They’re the gray sweatpants equivalent of Hamptons attire, hugging Barrett’s muscular thighs and perfectly highlighting the bulge between his legs without being indecent. I already know what he’s packing. I’ve seen it in action and yet I’m shocked to see it pressed up against the fabric of his pants.

You’d think after seeing him masturbate in the shower, a simple zipping of his pants wouldn’t feel so intimate. But those fingers pressing the button through the hole at the top of his pants is practically porn.

He reaches for the shirt on the bed, a button-down with a striped green and blue pattern that makes his eyes that much more intense. I busy myself with placing items in my clutch but out of the corner of my eye, I watch every single motion as he buttons his shirt.

I’m attempting to put on the delicate chain necklace my parents gave me but my shaky hands make the precision I need to hold the tiny clasp open impossible. Barrett moves in behind me, wordlessly taking the chain’s ends from my fumbling fingers and connecting it. He lays it gently against my skin, his fingertips grazing the base of my neck, sending a shiver down my spine.

“Thank you.” I smile at him in the mirror.

He nods, those intense hazel eyes boring into mine, telling me everything and nothing at once, before turning toward the door.

I’m not much of a wine drinker but it’s clear from the tension between Barrett and me, I’m going to start today.

17. Barrett

CHAPTER 17

Barrett

Chloe’s wearing tight white jeans and a flirty little tank top that opens in the back. It makes the silk camisole she wore to dinner last week look like a parka. It hugs her breasts in front, giving me an ample view of her cleavage and causing the crotch of my pants to tighten—again.

We’re seated at the winery with a tasting flight, but Chloe doesn’t appear to be tasting her wine as much as slinging it back.

The hostess brings us a charcuterie board and I’m happy to see Chloe inhaling that as well. At least she’s not drinking on an empty stomach.

“What do you think of the Chardonnay?”

“Which one was the Chardonnay?” she asks.

“The one in your glass.”

“Oh. It’s nice.” She bites her lip. “I’m not much of a wine drinker.”

“Really? I think you’ve got it down.” I informed her that she doesn’t have to finish every tasting, that’s what the buckets are for, to pour out anything you don’t want to finish, but Chloe thought that was wasteful and has been drinking every drop that is put in front of her.

“I’m not much of a drinker at all. Didn’t party much in high school or college. I read a lot of books, though.”