Trey’s head goes back to the clouds. “Yeah, a company he didn’t want. He hasn’t always seen it as a favor.”
His comment catches me off guard. “Huh?”
“Finn never wanted the big company. He planned to finish school. I took those opportunities away from him. It’s why my number one priority is making sure his life remains as uncomplicated as possible. I have to prove we can do this and do it well. I can't fuck it up.”
“Sounds like a lot of pressure. Without you he wouldn’t have the money he has now.” I slip a little of my extra knowledge.
Trey’s head turns to mine again. The small smile from one upturned lip is proof he probably expected me to research him and he’s not upset about it.
“Besides the outrageously priced baseball suite and his ability to spoil his girlfriend with junk she never asks for, Finn doesn’t care for the money. He hates the publicity. I took his nice quiet life and put him on the front page of every tech blog. It almost cost him his current girlfriend as well.” He sits up in one fluid movement, clearly agitated by our talk. “We’ve agreed I can grow the company as much as I want just as long as Finn doesn't have to wear a suit.”
His body leans over mine, but he props himself up on his elbows so only the lower portion of our legs touch. Maybe his sitting up move wasn’t out of agitation after all. I grin up at him and wrap my arms around his neck. A quick tug from my hands and his mouth is on mine. He tortures me with his lips and tongue, allowing me air every few presses. His fingers from one hand caress my exposed skin, down my arm to my hip and back up again while his other arm keeps him propped up and away from me. Our upper bodies aren’t touching, but I lower a hand from his neck to his chest and grab the material of his shirt. His heart pounds strongly against my palm, affirmation I’m not alone in this moment.
I take in a breath as his lips move from my mouth to my ear and he begins to trail them down my neck. Each small kiss causes little shivers of pleasure to goosebump my skin.
I’m about to move my hand under his shirt when a throat clears loudly beside us. I jump and my forehead hits Trey’s chin when he isn’t quick enough. The waiter who took our order stands over us with a large black tray balanced on one hand.
“Your lunch is ready, sir.” His head tilts to the tray and even though his lip curls up in a short smile, he doesn’t laugh or comment on our compromising position.
“Right, thanks.” Trey answers him but doesn’t move from his position over my body.
I push on him with the hand still on his chest. “Um, Trey.”
He rests his forehead on mine. “I need a minute.” He moves his hips. They don’t touch me, but it’s enough to fill me in on the situation contained in his thin swim trunks.
I meet the waiter’s eyes and shrug a shoulder. When he raises an eyebrow in return, I cover my mouth with a hand, but my body shakes with laughter.
“Well, if you laugh at him.” Trey’s slow movements take him away from me and he sits crossed legged on the towel waving his hand for the waiter to hand him a plate quickly.
“Nothing like a little PDA to work up an appetite, right?” he asks the waiter before the unflustered hotel staff member shakes his head and turns back to the restaurant with a promise — or a warning — that he’d return in thirty minutes to collect our plates.
