light switch. It’s feminine and orderly and very pretty. “Elizabeth’s room,” he says. “Spotless. She’s like me.”
I’m mesmerized by the glass chandelier. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Let’s continue.”
I follow him to the next room. He cringes as he opens the door, and when he turns on the light, I see why. The space is a mess; clothing, books, candy wrappers, haphazardly thrown about. “I can’t stand to look at it,” he tells me. “Which is why I keep the door closed.”
“I gather he takes after his mother,” I tease.
He shrugs, looking quite defeated.
We’re both smiling as we head on to a spacious bathroom, complete with soaker tub, two vanities and spacious shower.
“This is the kids’ washroom,” he explains. “Thankfully, I have someone come in every week to clean. It’s spotless now, but just wait until next week when they’re here.”
“I get you.”
He then shows me the guest room. It’s beautiful, done in shades of grey and light blue. The bed covers are luxurious, and there’s a fun sea life theme. Black and white photos of marine animals line the walls, and a glass sculpture of a sea turtle sits atop the dark dresser.
“Wow,” I say.
“I’m kind of obsessed with all things sea life,” he admits.
I smile. “I think it’s cute.”
I then follow him to a bright open concept room, and am awed by the space. Floor-to-ceiling windows line the walls. A sitting area with a large mounted flat television makes up one corner. And in the other is a bar topped by contemporary flowing lighted spheres and skirted with leather bar stools.
At the center of it all are a blue felted pool table, a fooseball game, and a ping pong table.
“Wow,” I blurt out. “The kids must love this.”
“Funny enough, they’re usually on the sofa on their phones.”
I shake my head. “Pity.”
I walk around the pool table , sliding the tip of my fingers along the edge, and I’m suddenly taken back to my younger days, when Donovan and I used to go out and play with our friends. It seems like a lifetime ago now.
“Up for a game?” he asks.
I smile. “Uh… I don’t know. I’m not that good.”
“I’m nothing to write home about either,” he jokes.
“Well, I suppose…” I really, really want to.
He reaches in one of the table pockets and grabs a ball. “Let’s have a go.”
I bite my lip. “Yeah… let’s.” I can’t wait to see him play. I bet he’s sexy as hell.
I help him retrieve the balls, and he shoots me a playful smile as he racks them up. “You want to break?”
I shake my head. “No, you go ahead.”
As he leans down and takes the standard stance, I study his shoulders and the curves of his back. I suddenly itch to rip off his shirt, and see what he’s hiding under there. He’s definitely sculpted.
He breaks the rack with force, sending two balls down, one of each thankfully. He smiles at me, and I realize my mouth is still open. I shut it quickly.
Thankfully, he doesn’t have a good shot to shoot at. He attempts a difficult combination shot and fails. He shrugs and smiles. “Your turn. Please take it easy on me.”
I laugh. “Of course I will. I wouldn’t want to beat the boss, would I?”
He’s left me an easy shot on a stripe. It goes down, and he grins widely. He’s happy for me. I miss my next shot. It’s been forever since I played, and I’ve never been that great. Donovan, on the other hand, was amazing at billiards. I suppose he just had the brain for it.
“You’re not holding your cue properly,” Weston tells me. “Here…” He settles himself just behind me, and adjusts my arm just so. “Your elbow needs to be straighter, a nice square. Don’t choke up so much on the cue.” My brain is whirling, struggling to take it all in. All I can think about is how he’s so close against me, my ass practically pressed against his crotch, and he smells so damn amazing.
“Try that shot again,” he urges as he repositions the object ball and the cue ball. “Give it a go.”
I do, my heart beating a mile a minute. And I get it in. I’m on top of the world. And so is he. “See how easy that was. Now do it again.”
The next shot isn’t so easy, and I miss it.
He shrugs and bends down to shoot. He misses too. “It seems we’re both hopeless.”