Chapter 19
Ihonestly didn’t think I’d be able to pull off a surprise visit to watch Truett bowl.
Not because I didn’t want to, but because I had no idea what to do with the alley.
Damien was tied up, and I already owed him more favors than I could comfortably keep track of.
Better to start working those off before I even think about asking for another.
In the end, I shut the alley down for the day. No parties booked, nothing major on the schedule—just the kind of slow, forgettable day that could easily slip away without any consequences. At least, that’s what I keep telling myself to justify it.
I’m glad I got to go, though, because seeing Truett in his element—all those years of dedicated practice—truly was remarkable to see.
My True isn’t just good. He’s a fucking star.
I suppose I should have known that already, considering his name is famous in the bowling world, but seeing him play, really play, is like watching a one-man show.
You can’t take your eyes off him. If his father can’t be proud of him for being that great, then he’s an asshole who doesn’t deserve his son.
The one thing I didn’t think through when driving—although I really should have—was sleeping arrangements for tonight.
The thought of making that long drive home when I just got here sounds like a cruel and unusual punishment.
I’d much rather sleep in my car. But the hotel key burning a hole in my pocket says I have other plans.
My stomach churns with pent-up nerves, and, let’s face it, horniness, as I drive to a hotel I’m certain is far fancier and more expensive than anywhere I’ve stayed in my life.
Tonight, there will be no distractions. No one to walk in on us once the lights go out and we sink between the sheets.
Part of me realizes I’m playing with fire, but I’m ready to be engulfed in the flames.
Set me ablaze, True.
My eyes lock onto the hotel ahead of me. It’s the type of hotel with its own security to bypass before you can even enter the resort area. I pull up to the barrier arm, rolling my window down for the bored-looking guard in the booth. He barely glances my way as he holds out his hand expectantly.
The fuck am I supposed to give him, a high-five? Clearly pissed I’m making him do his job, the security guard says, “Room key.”
“Right.” I dig into my jeans pocket and hand it over. He scrutinizes it as if I went through the trouble of producing a fake key to sneak into a bougie-ass hotel I clearly don’t look like I belong in.
“What name is the room under?” He clicks something on his tablet, probably pulling up guest reservations to make sure I’m not lying.
“Truett Thorne.” I pray the hotel is in fact under his name and not his parents’.
After a tense silence, I must have passed the guard’s test because he nods. “You know where to go?”
I could drive around and find it, but considering this hotel is massive, I could be here all evening trying to find Truett’s room. There’s no way in hell I’m missing out on uninterrupted alone time with him. “No,” I admit.
“Head straight out of here. When you get to the stop sign, turn right and then left. It’ll be in the main building toward the back. Have a good evening,” he finishes his directions, then snaps the plexiglass window shut. The barrier arm goes up, and I’m free to go.
I follow the guard’s direction, pulling up to the backside of the main building.
I wish I knew what Truett’s car looked like, so I’d know if I’m even in the right place.
But then again, Truett’s family has so many cars, it would be impossible to keep up with them all.
Trusting the guard won’t lead me astray, though, I park and grab the small bag I packed last-minute before jumping into the car this morning.
Finding Truett’s room is easier than I originally thought. It’s the first room number I see when I step off the elevator to the second floor. I slide the card through the scanner and wait for the green light before turning the handle and letting myself inside.
The door closes soundlessly behind me, blocking out all outside noise.
I’m still momentarily overwhelmed by the sheer opulence before me.
I assumed the room would be luxurious, but I underestimated just how much.
The golden glow of a grand crystal chandelier spills across the space, casting soft, flickering light onto the tufted satin comforter on the massive bed.
Freshly made, of course. It’s the kind of luxury I’ve only ever seen in movies.
My fingers trail absently over the back of a dark velvet armchair near the window, where heavy chocolate-brown drapes pool onto the floor.
A fur throw is draped over one arm, soft and inviting, as if someone just left it there.
The city beyond is a blur of lights through the sheer curtains, but I don’t appreciate the view for long.
My attention is drawn to the bed—large enough to swallow me and Truett whole—adorned with an array of plush pillows in deep bronze and champagne hues.
I’m not sure if I belong here. But then the thought passes quickly, because it’s silly. I’m a part of the bowling world too. I’m allowed to take up space, even if it’s as unfamiliar as this.
I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders. The air is perfumed with the faintest scent of amber and vanilla, an expensive fragrance that clings to the room like a whispered invitation to sink into its comfort.
But there’s also the woodsy pine smell that is distinctly Truett.
As if thinking his name summons him, the door opens. We lock eyes as he steps over the threshold, letting the door close behind him. It shuts out the rest of the world, leaving nothing but him and me.
Despite myself, nerves creep in. Why am I so fucking nervous? It’s Truett, for god’s sake. He’s had my dick in his mouth; there’s no need to be nervous.
“Ezra.” Truett breaks the silence lingering between us, his voice breathy and full of wonderment, as if he can’t quite believe I’m here. The smile he gives me nearly brings me to my knees. He crosses the space between us in three easy strides.
The weight of his body pushes me backwards until my back and ass hit the window.
He cups my face and kisses me with the ferocity of a man who has just been gifted everything he’s ever desired.
An involuntary moan leaves my lips as I kiss him back, matching his heat.
My arms snake around his hips, pulling him closer until I feel every damn inch of him against my body.
“You came,” he mumbles against my lips, only pulling back enough to look into my eyes. The intensity of the stare would normally have me looking away, but like a magnet, I’m drawn to Truett. Looking away from him is simply not an option.
“You’ve been showing up for me in a lot of ways, True. I wanted to be here for you. Though, I can’t say I did it for entirely noble reasons,” I admit.
“And what is your less noble reason then?” His thumb traces gentle circles along my cheek.
Fuck this man.
He’s going to be the death of me. Or my rebirth. Either way, I welcome it.
“I wanted to see my… you,” I finish lamely, nearly slipping up.
Truett and I don’t have a label, but he’s well past just being my friend.
Friends don’t suck dick like he did and let me lick my own cum out of his mouth.
Definitely not a friend thing to do. At least, I don’t go around swapping cum-filled kisses with my friends.
Like a true crime detective, Truett catches on immediately to my slip. His lips quirk up into a smirk, like he knows exactly what I’m going to say, and yet wants to hear it from my lips regardless. “Your what? What were you going to say, Ezra?”
I could lie and potentially avoid an awkward conversation that most definitely won’t lead to what I hope tonight leads to.
But lying has become such a major part of my life, and Truett is the one person I want to be truthful with.
If my intuition is right—and, god, I hope it is—he wants this just as much as I do.
Taking a deep breath, I try again. “I selfishly wanted to come here and see my boyfriend play.” There. It’s out, and it hangs in the air between us. I definitely want to sink into the floor, but I hold my head high, hoping to appear more confident than I feel.
His smile turns positively feral. “Boyfriend?” He says the word like he’s appreciating a fine wine, then licks his lips.
“Boyfriend.”
“Hmm.”
I frown. “That’s it? That’s all you have to say?” Disappointment colors my features. “For someone who has something to say about everything, you are certainly quiet about this. If you don’t want that, then just tell me. I’m not a—”
“Ezra,” he cuts me off, eyes shining with mirth.
“What?” I snap.
“You’re an idiot.” And then he kisses me again.
But this time it’s different. Hunger and longing tear through me. His kiss consumes me, igniting something deep inside, setting me on fire. Maybe I am an idiot because, no matter how hot I burn, I want more. More of him. More of this. More of everything he’s willing to give me.
My body isn’t the only one responding. Through our clothes, I feel the outline of his hard cock pressed against my thigh.
Without meaning to, I grind against him, creating friction between us and eliciting a moan from Truett that goes straight to my cock, sending shock waves of pleasure through my body.
If a single kiss pulls this much from me, I’ll lose myself completely when we finally end up in bed.
Because there’s no other way tonight can go.
I yearn for more than just a few stolen minutes away with him.
Who the hell knows when we will ever have this much alone time again with the USBC and our families constantly breathing down our backs?