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“Trey,” I said not making an attempt to mask my irritation, “this is not about you imposing conditions in order for me to stay inmyown home in the town whereI live. This is about me having what I can afford to provide for myself, without depending on you or anyone else. I may have been born of trash, but I do have some pride and I'd appreciate your respect.” I turned to leave, feeling angry and insulted. I hadn’t reached the landing to the stairs, when Trey was there, pulling me around to face his angry eyes.
“Listen to me,” he hissed, wagging his forefinger at my startled face, “do you understand what you’ve done to me? Do you know how much you’ve driven me to distraction?” He was livid, but not so much at me as he seemed to be at himself.
“I can’t get the picture of you, or the feel of you, or the smell of you out of my head. This is not a now-and-then thing, Tylar, this is a daily thing. I worry about you. Do you understand that?” His blue eyes blazed as he awaited my response, his hand heavy on my shoulder.
“Do you?” he repeated, angrily.
I nodded, afraid to speak. His nearness electrified me. He didn’t realize that he did those same things to me. My lips wanted him to kiss me, my heart wanted him to love me, and my hormones, well they were all about him spanking me at the moment.
He relaxed his grip. His eyes softened. A tear rolled down my cheek. His thumb was right there to brush it away. He tilted my chin upward to meet his lips. They were soft, warm, and gentle as they caressed my own. I circled my arms around his strong neck, pressing myself to him. He held me tightly against him, stroking my hair gently.
“Our flight's at 9 p.m. tonight,” he said, glancing at his watch. "Come on I think we've time for a short nap," he said, giving me a sexy grin, as he pulled me by the hand upstairs behind him.
CHAPTER 37
Trey and I flew first-class from Louisville to the Tri-Cities Regional Airport. Our flight was delayed in departing out of Louisville. I was tired from the last couple of days and fell asleep almost as soon as we took off. I knew Trey had planned on working from his laptop on the plane, but having me sprawled across his lap for the majority of the flight interfered with those plans.
I was glad Trey had arranged for a limo to take us to his the manor. Trey and I climbed in as the driver stowed our luggage. I resumed my nap in the limo, curled up against Trey.
“Why do I think that you'll keep me up all night as much as you’ve slept this evening?” he commented.
“Are you complaining?” I asked, winking at him.
“Not at all, Ms. Preston,” he quipped.
I placed my hand possessively on his crotch, gently massaging his junk, feeling his erection grow beneath my touch. I looked up and a naughty smile played on his lips. He did nothing to stop me but unfortunately, we were pulling up to the manor right about then.
“Well you've managed to delay my entrance to the house with your shenanigans, Tylar," he complained, moving my hand from his crotch. Trey adjusted himself as best he could. The driver carried our bags up to the front porch, as Thatcher opened the door.
“Ms. Preston, Mr. Sinclair, welcome back,” Thatcher greeted us warmly at the door.
“Hi Thatcher,” I replied smiling. Trey followed with our bags conveniently shielding him, greeting Thatcher with a nod. He asked Thatcher to take both of our bags to his suite as he helped me off with my coat. I'd chosen a dark brown and powder blue plaid wool skirt, with a powder blue oversized crew neck sweater, tan tights, and dark brown leather boots. I'd french braided my hair, a look Trey called "very demure."
Thatcher said Trey's parents were in the family room at the back of the manor. I was nervous, my mouth was dry, and I felt so out of place. Trey took my hand and led me to the family room, where his parents were watching TV.
As we entered, Trey’s father, a distinguished, handsome gentleman who looked much younger than 70, stood up to welcome us.
“Trey!” he exclaimed, putting his arms around his youngest son, patting his back a couple of times.
“Dad,” Trey replied happily, “I’d like you to meet Tylar Preston. Tylar, this is my father, Clive Sinclair.” I extended my hand to shake the elder Sinclair’s hand. He brushed it aside gently, and stepped forward, embracing me in a hug.
“Tylar I'm so glad to finally meet you,” he said with his exquisite British accent. “I hope you’re making an honest man out of my boy.”
I blushed.
“Mom,” Trey continued, leading me to his mother, “this is Tylar. Tylar, my mother, Susan Sinclair.”
“Tylar,” she said, putting her arms around me and squeezing me into a hug, “I’m tickled to death to meet you.” Her southern accent was as pronounced as her husband’s British accent. “Please sit down here next to me hon, and tell me how your trip was.”
I loved Trey’s mother immediately and she immediately put me at ease. We chatted about everything from the weather to the past summer and the competitions. Both of his parents were impressed with my results in the competitions with Derringer. They were aware that my season had been cut short when Charlie assaulted me. They apologized over and over again about that. I'd hoped Trey didn’t share everything with them, but as owners of the property, I’m sure that they were not spared any facts.
Susan filled us in on plans for the following day. Their long-time friends, Mr. and Mrs. Andrews, along with their son Landon, would be joining us for Thanksgiving dinner. I noticed Trey shifted nervously on the sofa next to me when his mother mentioned this.
Susan also let me know that Becky had called just before we arrived because Gina had not been able to reach me. I forgot that I got a new phone number with my new cell phone. Trey must not have programmed anyone’s number into my phone except for his. That didn’t surprise me. Apparently, Gina and Ian were coming in tomorrow morning to have Thanksgiving with Becky. I was so excited that I'd get some time with Gina during this trip. The Sinclair’s dinner was to start at 4 p.m.
It was close to midnight when Trey took my hand, bidding his parents good night. I felt sort of embarrassed, wondering if they even knew that Trey and I'd be sharing his suite. I felt exhausted as Trey led me upstairs to his now-familiar suite. I unpacked my bag, hanging things in his massive closet.
We showered together, not lingering because of our fatigue, a first for us. I put a short ivory satin nightgown on with matching panties. I used Trey’s blow dryer and brush to style my freshly washed hair. Trey was already in bed as I snuggled in beside him, his face illuminated by the flat screen television he'd turned on to watch CNN Money. My hormones were kicking into overdrive after the refreshing shower.
