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As had a lot of the furniture in his house. Fucking on that vintage sixties-era vanity in one of the spare rooms had definitely been a mistake. Those spindly legs hadn’t survived my very energetic ride on Holt’s dick, and the whole thing had come crashing down mid-fuck, slamming me onto Holt’s lap as we hit the floor. The noise he’d made… I still winced thinking about it. His poor balls had gotten a little squished, and he’d had to spend the rest of the night with a bag of frozen peas on them.
Luckily, he’d made a full recovery.
I was busy typing up the list of new signature cocktails when my phone vibrated on the desk. After quickly finishing my email and sending it off, I picked up my phone and smiled when I saw I had a text from Holt.
I have one more secret to tell you, Taylor.
I stared down at it in surprise, having expected it to just say that he was done and ready to leave. After a few uncertain seconds, I typed back, What is it?
Holt replied just moments later. Will you come to the private box?
My pulse leaped. I wasn’t sure whether to be nervous or excited, but I quickly shut off my computer and stood, grabbing my suit jacket from the back of the chair.
Sure, I sent back to Holt. On my way.
What could the secret be? Surely it wasn’t something more embarrassing than the Japanese-businessmen-seeing-his-butthole incident, or the time he threw his back out trying to suck his own dick. But then why hadn’t he told me the first night we’d met? We’d told each other everything that night.
I flicked off the lights in my office and closed the door after stepping out into the hall. Seb and Larkin would’ve gone home by now, so the corridors were quiet as I made my way to the private box. When I got there, the door was closed and Holt was nowhere in sight, so I cautiously knocked and opened it to peek inside.
“Hey,” I said when I saw Holt pacing in front of the big windows, the privacy glass opaque to hide the arena down below.
He looked nervous. He was fiddling with his shirt cuffs, which he always did when he was nervous. But he stopped and smiled at me—a slightly wavering grin that instantly made me want to ask if he was alright.
I edged into the room and closed the door behind me. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” Holt’s voice was raspy. He cleared his throat and walked over to cup my face, leaning in to kiss me.
“So what’s this secret?” I asked when we parted, half teasing and half nervous.
Holt swallowed, stepping back and taking my hand to lead me over to the windows. He didn’t say anything as he positioned me directly in front of the couch, then went over to the control panel on the wall to make the privacy glass transparent.
I wasn’t sure what to expect, and at first I couldn’t see anything out of place in the arena. It was mostly dark down there, just a single spotlight on over the wrestling ring, and I finally noticed something out of place on the pale mat.
I frowned and inched closer to peer down, and when my brain finally made sense of what I was seeing, my heart stopped beating for a moment.
Big, fat sunflower heads had been arranged on the mat to spell something out. An H, followed by a love heart, with a T underneath.
H hearts T
Holt…
My breath caught as my wide-eyed gaze shot to him. He smiled at me anxiously, fiddling with a button on his waistcoat.
“You…” My voice came out wobbly. I took a step closer to him, my gaze darting back down to the ring and my belly fluttering when I read it again. “This is your secret?”
He nodded, a delicate blush staining his cheeks a darker grey as his smile grew boyish. “It’s a newer one.”
“Holt…” My breath escaped me in a rush. Legs unsteady, I strode forward and crushed my mouth to his. “I love you too,” I mumbled between feverish kisses.
He sagged against me, arms creeping around my waist to tug me closer. When we eventually broke apart, he cleared his throat and gestured sheepishly at the arena.
“Wanted to do something a little extra to tell you.”
I laughed, pure joy bubbling in my chest. “It’s appropriately extra. Still romantic, but at least it’s not the wrestlers spelling it out with the letters painted on their asses.”
He froze, then huffed in exasperation. “Fuck, that would’ve been so much better. This is why I hired you as our marketing manager, babe.”
“So it wasn’t just to keep getting in my pants?” I teased.
“I do love getting in your pants,” he rasped, hands sliding down to squeeze my ass, then gave me an uncharacteristically shy smile. “But I love you even more.”
I melted, wrapping my arms around his neck and leaning in for another kiss.
“I love you, Holt Hector.” In a throaty murmur, I added, “I’ll iron my boxers for you when we get home from dinner.”
He grinned wickedly against my mouth. “You’re a little minx, Mr. Hough.”
