He turns back and offers her a few of the carrots, and she gently lips them off his hand. His expression is soft and I can clearly see how much regard he has for her. Love even. Oh to be looked at like that by someone so handsome. Lucky horse.
“You can stroke her if you want,” he says softly. Having come so far I might as well, since she doesn’t look like she’s about to eat me. I reach out and touch her nose. It’s like warm velvet and not at all what I was expecting.
“Oh, she’s so soft,” I exclaim in a loud whisper, and he chuckles. Chispa blows out a loud breath and I withdraw my hand quickly, tucking it against myself.
“Let her smell you,” he says and I shoot him a look. He must be kidding, right? But his face is impassive, so I slowly hold out my hand below her nose, and she huffs a soft breath over me that almost tickles. He places some of the carrots onto my hand and she gently mouths them from me. I feel emboldened to stroke down her neck, smoothing down her red-brown, almost ginger hair.
“What does her name mean?”
“Chispa? It means spark.”
“It suits her,” I say and he laughs again.
“Why doesn’t she have a mane?” I ask, touching the short bristles on the top of her neck.
“We clip the mane of polo ponies, it’s called hogging. It stops the reins, mallets, and other equipment from getting tangled up in it.”
I nod; it makes sense even if it makes them look a little odd.
“I’d better give some carrots to the others before they get jealous,” he says, and I press myself against the wall again to exit her stall. I hover in the central walkway while he distributes the rest of the carrots.
“Well, thank you for letting me meet your horses, but I’d better get to bed,” I say when he comes over. It’s nearly midnight and I have to be up early to start making breakfast.
“I was thinking,” he says, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “My horse got her reward, how about I reward you for making them for her?”
A hookup? Is he offering me a hookup? I stare at him for a few seconds but his smile looks genuine.
“Um, there are rules about, you know... staff and guests,” I sputter. “We’re not allowed to, um, mix.”
He takes a step closer. He’s a few inches taller than me and I have to tip my head back a little to look at him.
“No one will ever know, Simon.”
I swallow, my mouth suddenly dry. He said my name in that goddamn sexy accent. I can’t possibly refuse him.
“What do you say?” His voice is rich and dark, and I just nod my answer to him.
CHAPTER TWO
ANDRÉS
We walk back to the hotel in silence. We have an agreement, so there’s nothing much left to say. In a way, I miss his questions and his bright voice. I don’t know why I propositioned him, except of course that he’s as cute as hell. But I’ve met plenty of cute guys and haven’t tried to hook up with them. Maybe it was his willingness to sort out the carrots for me, or the way he checked out my arse. It could be his azure eyes—I’ve always been a sucker for blue-eyed boys—or the way he met Chispa. I could tell he was nervous but he did it anyway. His reaction to her was adorable. I could tell she liked him, and she’s a good judge of character.
I quickly shut the door to my suite behind us. I’m true to my word; I’ll make sure no one knows he was here. I see Simon’s eyes widen and he lets out a low whistle as he takes in the opulence of the suite. I’m used to it, so I hadn’t considered his reaction. It’s not what I would or even could choose for myself these days, but as I’m not paying I’m not going to complainabout how someone else spends their money. And Gabriel Barclay-Sinclair has a lot of money. I dim the lights before taking off my coat, then I pull off my boots and walk over to the dresser where I grab some lube and a condom and put them somewhere handy. Once I’ve put on some music—one of my classical playlists—and the sounds of Mendelssohn start to fill the room, I pull my sweater off. I realise Simon hasn’t moved since he walked into the room. I hope he hasn’t changed his mind, because since I voiced my offer, my cock has been aching to be squeezed between some sweet cheeks, and I bet his are very tasty.
“You’re a bit overdressed,” I say, walking to him while unbuttoning my shirt. l let it slide off my shoulders and onto the floor.
“Oh, yeah, right.” His eyes catch sight of my bare chest and he licks his lips. I catch his jaw in my hand, cupping it gently.
“I’m not averse to a fully dressed quickie if the situation demands it, but right now I want you naked.” His eyes darken to a deep sapphire and I feel him tremble slightly. His reaction to me has my dick almost bursting out of my jeans. I look into those eyes and at his full, wet lips. I want to kiss him but I don’t. It’s one of my rules with hookups—no kissing. It’s far too intimate. Instead I wipe my thumb across his lips, and they feel as soft as they look. His breath hitches and the ache in my groin worsens.
“Do you need any help?” I ask quietly, reminding him that he’s still wearing his coat.
“Oh god, sorry,” he says and steps backwards, breaking contact and starting to shrug off his clothes. “I’m not usually so um... so slow.”
“So you would’ve preferred the quickie out there in the barn, in the cold?” I quip, as I peel off my jeans and boxer shorts.
“I still would’ve said yes,” he replies, seemingly over his initial awe of the place as the last of his clothes land on the floor. His body is lean, with narrow hips—one with a curious tattoo—and a delightful treasure trail leading to his dick. A little shorter than mine, but thicker.
