Page 22 of Pretty ’n Peak

Braille. That was what it was called. Mateo knew what it was, but he’d never seen anybody use it before.

“Could you hit Lobby, please?” Austin asked when they were inside.

“Sure.” He punched the button. Austin’s grip still tingled around his wrist, soothing and exciting all at once.

They walked silently together through the lobby, the brightly lit clusters of couches and greenery giving way to the majestic backdrop of the night sky through the glass that stretched up to the roof.

It was intimate. The two of them alone in the universe.

Mateo let his eyes trace over Austin one more time, taking in the way the harness wrapped around the muscles of his chest and back. It couldn’t hurt to peek, right?

Austin made such a contrast to Master Carlos. He was a touch shorter than Mateo, slender with a gentle softness to his belly and just the barest hint of extra flesh rounding above the waist of those tight leather pants. His voice was full, but softer than the exuberant man downstairs.

He wasn’t perfect, but that was almost better. If he were any more handsome, Mateo might not have been able to talk with him.

Instead, he was very real.

And he was undeniably dominant in a way that made Mateo want to shiver down to his toes.

Austin might not be his Dom, but he was still a Dom. And being pulled across the room made Mateo feel thrillingly submissive. This wasn’t how people usually walked together, one striding ahead while the other followed obediently behind.

Come to think of it, how did Austin know where they were going? Could he see a bit after all?

They came to a stop at the beverage station near the door. It held three carafes with water, coffee, and decaf. “Would you like something to drink?”

Right. Because as much as Mateo’s dirty thoughts were running away with him, they’d come up here to relax and talk.

And, truly, this was what he needed. More than a scene right now, he needed a moment of quiet.

Mateo looked over the selections. Since there wasn’t any beer, he actually wished there was tea. “I don’t think I should have any caffeine right now. I barely slept last night and…” His words were split with a yawn. “Sorry. I think I’m just running on adrenaline. I don’t think even decaf would do my stomach any favors right now.”

Austin’s warm hands engulfed his, a sensuous, soothing cage. “I’ve got you. Would you like a lemonade?”

Mateo checked the container on the end again. It was visibly labeled Water with a few lemon slices floating decoratively on top amid the ice cubes. Should he tell Austin that it was just lemon water? God, that could be so embarrassing for both of them.

“It’s what Sebastian makes for his boy, Neil,” Austin continued smoothly. “There are more lemons and some simple syrup in the fridge. I could make you some.”

Oh. That set off a whole flurry of different butterflies. Mateo shouldn’t have underestimated Austin, though figuring out how to respond to his… disability? vision impairment? added another layer to ways that he felt out of his depth. He didn’t want to be rude or mess things up.

But the idea of Austin making something for him, just like another Dom made for his boy… that sounded special.

He’d had plenty of guys buy him a beer—it was almost the same as asking if he was down to fuck, the first step in the negotiation of when and where and (usually) if he would top them.

He didn’t think his stomach needed lemons any more than it needed coffee, but he still liked the idea of it, of Austin making something just for him. This slender Dom, all clad in black leather and luscious skin, doing something so domestic and personal.

“It’s not too much trouble?”

Austin’s smile was brilliant, like Mateo had given the right answer. “Not too much trouble at all.” Those confident hands traced over his again, seemingly tied to every nerve ending in his body. A final caress brushed over the tips of his fingers like a kiss. Then Austin moved away, busying himself with the cups.

“Can you get out the lemons and syrup?”

That was easy enough to do. There was a mini-fridge beside the table, with clearly marked bottles of cream and simple syrup. A cubic container held the lemons. “Here.” He set them carefully on the table next to Austin.

It was fascinating watching him mix the drinks. He dipped his finger far over the rim of each glass, stopping the flow of water when it hit. He fumbled around the box of sliced lemons, not quite reaching it the first time. He sketched out the shape and located the spoon by touch, carefully rotating each wedge before he squeezed it. With the syrup, he hefted the bottle a few times first, apparently getting the weight of it and gauging the movement of the liquid inside before he squeezed a long, lazy spiral into the bottom of the glass.

So perhaps his vision was… present, but really blurry? Mateo had always thought of blindness as, well, like closing your eyes. Total blackness. Austin’s situation seemed more complicated than that, but that white cane still leaned against his naked and toned shoulder.

Austin swirled a wooden stirrer through each glass, then held one up. “See how it tastes.”