I sink into the warm water and let it soothe my tired muscles. It’s been a day.

I pop in my earbuds, turn on some relaxing music on my phone, and let my mind wander. The goal is to zone out, meditate, become one with this tub, but instead my brain automatically draws up the image of Barrett on the tennis court. It must be my head injury that has me recalling every detail. Sweat-soaked shirt clinging to his muscular frame. Forearm muscles bunching with every swing. And my favorite, those long fingers of his gripping his racquet handle.

The thought of Barrett has caused an ache between my thighs. If I’m being honest, it’s been there since I saw him standing outside the racquet club.

I bite my lip and trace a finger along the surface of the water, fighting the urge to give into temptation. When I close my eyes again, he’s there. Standing outside the pro shop door, those tantalizing fingers sliding over his jaw.

The water ripples as I move a hand between my legs.

After the busy day, I thought I’d be up for relaxation, but in the end dirty thoughts of Barrett win out.

11. Barrett

CHAPTER 11

Barrett

I glance at the clock again. It’s nearly eight o’clock. Fifteen minutes past when I told Chloe to meet me for dinner.

I’ve showered, dressed and heated up the meal Dimitri left for this evening. With an unexpected guest, the portions were light so I threw together a spinach, strawberry and walnut salad from the refrigerator. I’ve watched the clock on the kitchen counter tick off the minutes, my frustration growing with every minute that goes by.

I don’t wait on people, especially in my own home.

I push back my chair and head for the stairs. With each step, my irritation is building.

It doesn’t matter that forty minutes ago I was in the shower with my dick in my hand thinking about Chloe’s perfect ass and full lips. Any calm I felt from that release has left my body and now I can feel every muscle start to ratchet down tight again.

Outside Chloe’s door, I knock.

It’s quiet, and there’s no response.

This time, I bang on it. Still nothing. I push the door open to find an empty room. Chloe’s suitcase is still at the foot of the bed, her bags of books sitting on the sofa untouched. No evidence that she’s attempted to unpack.

That’s when I hear a sound. It’s faint. I move to put my ear to the bathroom door.

The door is solid, not giving me any feedback, but I swear I hear it again.