6
Lourde
All his shirts smelled woody with hints of vanilla, like Barrett. I slid the oversized t-shirt over my ass. Cloaked in his scent, I couldn’t stop thinking about Barrett. It took my mind off Hunter.
As soon as my head hit the pillow, I texted the girls, letting them know where I was in case they sent out a search party. I also made it crystal clear to keep my location a secret from Hunter. The last thing I needed was for him to come back with some bull-shit excuse that no, it wasn’t his dick in some wanna-be high society bimbo. After that, I turned my phone off. I needed to sleep off this nightmare.
Sliding into the high thread count sheets, I turned to my side, staring out the bay windows that framed the postcard view of the ocean. I remembered when Barrett bought the home in Montauk. Conner had mentioned it when they were both over for dinner a few years back. That kind of information Barrett wouldn’t just offer. He was so private. He bought the worst house on the best street. That was what Connor had said. He couldn’t understand why Barrett, with all this money, just didn’t tear it down, preferring to renovate it and piece it back together, brick by brick. From my brief walk-through of Barrett's home, I could see why. The place was character-filled and homey, a feeling you couldn’t just replicate if you tore it down.
I punched down another pillow again, trying to get comfortable. Like the last two times, I was having no luck with it. Okay, maybe it wasn’t the goddamn pillow that was the problem.
Hunter the third. A cheater. Barrett Black. Not built for love. What the hell was wrong with the men of today? And why did I choose them?
Actually, I hadn’t. My parents were setting me up with these men. I wasn’t doing much of the choosing at all. Maybe that was the problem. They were so hell-bent on me marrying the right man from the right family so I could just get sucked back down the totem pole of the Diamond women. Be in my place. Act a certain way. Blah Blah Blah.
“Fuck!” I yelled into my pillow. Nothing about my life was making me happy. I was twenty-three, not thirty-three. This ought to be the best time of my life, but it was far from that. My name carried certain responsibilities, and the expectations of my parents, or rather my mom, were weighing me down.
A knock at the door pulled me upright. I dragged my fingers through my hair as the door opened.
“Lourde? Is everything okay?”
Barrett appeared in the doorway. His hair was tousled and unruly. Had he not slept either?
“Yes. Sorry, I just can’t sleep.”
“Did you say fuck?”
Geez, did this guy have the hearing of an owl?
“No, I just yawned… loudly,” I added, so he didn’t think I was a loon.
“Okay, well, I’ll let you—” he grasped the door handle.
“Actually, there is something.”
He stepped in, his bare chest catching the moonlight. Curves of muscles ran down his long torso to his blue sweats that hung low, showing his delicious V. His body molded like a statue, rippled and cut. I rolled my lips together. Thank fuck it was dark. Sitting up, I urged him to sit on the edge of my bed. But he didn’t move out of the doorway.
“I won’t bite,” I said, my frustration with men growing.
Slowly, he walked toward the bed, sitting on the edge. In the gray light, his features came into view. His five o’clock shadow dotted his square jaw and his smooth tanned skin looked like he’d spent the winter in the Bahamas instead of in Manhattan.
I leaned back, pulling my knees up. Barrett’s shirt barely covered my thighs, but I didn’t care. Maybe like Hunter’s drunk friend said, perhaps I should color outside the lines. Heck, the flutter at the pit of my stomach when Barrett’s gaze settled on my thighs was new and addictive.
“What is it, Lourde?”
His gaze crept higher up my thigh. Did he find me attractive? My skin warmed at the thought that maybe this wasn't as one-sided as I thought.
“Five years ago when I made my debut, do you remember that night?”
“Of course, you were with Josh.”
I widened my eyes. “You remember his name?”
“Of course. I always remember a name.” He blinked. “What about it?”
“You dropped me home that night.”
“That’s right.” He held my gaze, and my breathing quickened. The air in the room changed. After all this time, I needed to know the truth, and suddenly this need to know overtook me. I was fed up with being the perfect daughter, the perfect sister, and the perfect girlfriend. It was now or never. I wanted to break perfection, starting now.
I sucked in a heady breath. “Did you want to kiss me?”
“Lourde.” He raked his hand through his hair.
“I just want to know, Barrett.”
He stood up quickly, moving to the foot of the bed. “I shouldn’t be here. If your brother found out…”
“You don’t strike me as the type to worry about what other people think.”
“You don’t know what kind of man I am.” He stared down at me. His fiery stare trailed my body from my legs up to the curve of my breasts, where he hovered. Fuck. My body tensed. Fear laced my throat. My heart pounded. I didn’t care what man he was. I wanted him to do filthy things to me. Filthy things that a girl like me shouldn’t be interested in doing with my brother’s best friend.
“What k… kind of man are you?” I stuttered out. My lungs emptied of air and made me feel dizzy.
“Sleep, Lourde.”
He gave me one last stare before disappearing.
I slammed my head back into the pillow and pressed my hands to my cheeks.
What the hell was that? And why am I so turned on right now?
Barrett isn’t dangerous. Is he? He’d always been quiet and mysterious, but never…
My lungs filled back up with the air, needing to quell my lightheadedness. I pulled the covers back over my bare legs. But I wasn’t cold. My skin heated from head to toe, lit by his stare and his insatiable hooded eyes. There was no way in hell I’d sleep after that.
No fucking way.
I needed to know more.