Pretty Boy (Perfect Boys #1) - K.M. Neuhold Page 0,31
here,” I admit, and Sterling cocks his head to one side, furrowing his brows with confusion. “Believe it or not, I don’t make a habit of picking up random, fascinating boys from every small town I blow through and bringing them home with me.”
His eyebrows unscrunch, and he laughs. “I should hope not; you’d have a house overrun with strays just like me.”
“You’re not a stray,” I insist, cupping his chin. “I meet most of my boys on kink apps or at the BDSM club just outside of town. I’m trying to take things slow with you so I don’t fuck this up,” I confess. “I’d love to have you in my room, in my bed, but I don’t want you to feel pressured.”
He stares at me, his eyes searching mine. Less than forty-eight hours ago I told him I wanted to be his Daddy and promised I’d take care of everything, and I’m already letting him down.
“You said that all of this was about trust and communication, right?” he asks.
“That’s right.”
“Okay, and I’m trustin’ you, so you should trust me too. If it’s too much or too fast, I’ll tell you.”
Relief rushes through me. I don’t think I was giving him enough credit. He might be new to having a Daddy, but I think he already understands the dynamic better than some people who’ve been in the lifestyle for ages. The trust goes both ways.
“In that case, come see our bedroom,” I correct, dropping my voice lower and delighting in the pink that creeps into his cheeks.
For the next half hour, I show him around the entire house, including how to run the jets for the jacuzzi in our bathroom and where the outdoor lights are in case he wants to use the pool. I’m about to show him down the last wing of the house where my office and library are, but I notice him starting to look tired, so I decide to leave those for later.
“Head back up to our room and take a shower. I’ll go out to the car and bring our things in. I’ll leave you to settle in a bit, but feel free to make yourself at home.”
Sterling
I feel like a horse in the kitchen. That’s what my gran always used to say about stuff that didn’t belong where it’d been put. I certainly don’t belong in Barrett’s fancy house with so many bathrooms I can’t figure a use for all of ‘em.
The wood floor creaks under my stocking feet as I make my way down the hall, holding my breath like I’m about to be caught somewhere I shouldn’t be. He didn’t say I had to stay in my room or anything. In fact, he said to make myself at home. That means he shouldn’t mind me exploring a bit, right? I nibble on my bottom lip, listening for any signs of him. My hair is still damp from my shower, and when I got out, I saw my bags sitting at the foot of his bed, looking just as out of place as I feel.
As I near the end of the one hall he didn’t show me earlier, I find a room with a door that’s slightly ajar. The rustling sound of paper comes through the crack, and I press myself closer to try to see what’s inside. The smell of books is unmistakable, along with the rich scent of leather. Through the small gap in the door, I’m able to see a bookshelf that extends from the floor all the way up to the high ceiling. I’ve never seen so many books in my life. I lean in a little closer to get a better look, and the door squeaks as it inches open.
I jump back and nearly trip over my own feet, catching myself on the doorframe before I can fall on my ass. The warm sound of Barrett’s laughter makes my skin heat from head to toe, and I look up to find him seated inside the room, in full view now that the door is wide open, grinning at me with amusement.
“I’d scratch ninja off your list of possible careers,” he suggests.
“Yeah,” I agree with an awkward laugh. Taking a step into the room, I realize it’s not one bookcase filled with books, it’s an entire room of them. There must be hundreds of books, maybe thousands. Has Barrett read all of these? That thought is almost more intimidating than all the money he’s got.