“Feel better?” Wood murmured against Trent’s wet hair. Damn, he loved how he smelled fresh out the shower. He felt even better, tucked tightly against his chest, allowing Wood to care for him. Another layer uncovered.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Trent practically moaned. He’d been holding on to Wood’s biceps, his blunt fingertips digging into his flesh the deeper Wood’s massage got. “It… it feels really good.”
Wood eased his hands away, needing to put some distance between them or else he might not be able to control himself much longer. Trent turned and walked in front of him, and Wood noticed he had a considerable limp and was favoring his left side as if the pain was traveling down his right leg. He went to the refrigerator and bent over to get his orange juice and ended up grunting loudly, his hand snapping around to the center of his back.
Wood darted across the kitchen and gripped Trent around his hips. “Easy. Let me help you.”
Trent turned around with a tight but mischievous smirk on his plump lips. “You sure you’re just trying to help me? Because it feels like you got something else in mind.”
Wood kept one arm braced around Trent’s waist, but he allowed his other hand to roam as he did last night… and Trent didn’t stop him. He knew he’d have to feed little bits of his lifestyle to Trent at a time, since he was sure he’d only dated women, not wanting to scare him away from this side of himself. So, he smoothed his hand under Trent’s tank top and up his flat stomach to the neat patch of hair in the center of his chest. He could feel Trent’s heart beating at a rapid cadence that matched his own. Wood didn’t stop until his palm was over Trent’s throat, and he hummed happily at the way his large Adam’s apple bobbed dramatically against the restriction.
“Do you really think it’s wise to provoke a man that’s been in prison for seventeen years?” Wood growled as his dick threatened to burst through his pajama bottoms.
“I-I guess not.” Trent swallowed again.
“Then I suggest you and your hurt back go in the living room and lie down for a while and stop playing dangerously,” Wood advised.
Trent turned around, his gaze dropping momentarily before they rose to Wood’s eyes. He saw the craving, but he also saw indecision in Trent’s heated expression. And Wood didn’t do curiosity. He’d know when Trent was ready for him. But damn, he hoped it was soon.
“I’m hungry. I can’t take my muscle relaxers on an empty stomach.”
“I’ll fix you something. Go lie down,” Wood ordered.
Trent’s brown eyes flashed with something akin to excitement before he nodded once… then obeyed. Wood thought he’d need another minute alone in his room, but he was able to get his erection down enough to make Trent his famous gooey-cheese spinach-and-mushroom omelet. Hopefully he still knew how.
Trent
Trent couldn’t believe his back chose to act up now of all times. He must’ve rolled into an awkward position after his amazing release last night because now his lower muscles were spasming like hell. He felt like an idiot for talking all that shit about Wood being old, and here he was, hobbled over and looking in need of a cane. Trent clenched his teeth when he eased down onto the cushions, his back suddenly feeling as if it were on fire. Fuck! He needed his pills badly.
“Just give me a bowl of cereal, Wood, so I can take these.” Trent grimaced. He had to hurry and get this under control; he was already feeling numbness in his hip.
“It’ll only be a minute. I’m making eggs,” Wood called from the kitchen.
“All right.”
Trent turned on the television and flipped the stations until he came to the highlights for today’s college football game. Wood came in ten minutes later with a checkered dish towel slung over his shoulder and carrying two plates of steaming eggs. Trent couldn’t help but admire the sexiness in Wood’s physique. He had on loose, gray lounge pants and a workout T-shirt with the gaping holes on the side so Trent could still see the beautiful designs that decorated all that fineness. He smiled even as he struggled to sit up straighter. This man was truly something else. Wood set the plate down on the coffee table, and Trent’s excitement came to a screeching halt.
“What’s this?”
“My specialty.” Wood beamed proudly.
“Oh yeah?” Trent laughed nervously. He loved eggs but eggs a certain way.
Wood went into the kitchen again, and Trent picked up his fork and stabbed at the plump omelet. He wasn’t a fan. What the fuck is in here?
He heard the refrigerator door open, then Wood asked, “You want orange juice, or milk, or…”
“Orange juice… the biggest cup we got in there,” Trent hurried to say. He set his plate in his lap so he didn’t have to bend over the table to eat. “What’d you say was in here?”
“It’s a cheesy spinach mushroom omelet.” Wood winked. “Bishop told me you love eggs. And that you put extra cheese on everything.”
Trent exhaled silently. Did he now? Damn. Had Wood been asking about the things he liked from his best friend so he could cook for him?
“And I’m glad you do like those because I really only have a few dishes I can make, and this is one; you had the other last night.” Wood sat in the recliner and immediately began eating his breakfast. When he brought the fork to his mouth, a long string of yellow cheese clung to his omelet. “Mmmm. Now that’s heaven.”
“Where’d you get spinach and mushrooms?” Trent frowned, still terrified.
“From the store yesterday when I bought the spaghetti ingredients.” Wood nodded at his untouched plate. “Go on and eat before it cools. The cheese has to be gooey.”
“Oh well, I was gonna—”
“I used to make this for my mother when she wasn’t feeling good…” Wood’s slight smile fell, and he glanced away from Trent as if what he’d just remembered didn’t rouse happy memories. Were his folks dead? “She’d be so happy to see me in the kitchen. She always loved it when I made these for just me and her.”
Trent didn’t want to probe, and Wood didn’t offer up anything more as he sat there staring down at his plate as if he were caught in some nostalgic trance. Trent didn’t like the way Wood’s pained expression made him feel inside. Maybe Wood had lost his mother while he was in prison. He’d heard that was one of the worst things for an inmate to go through.
Not knowing what else to do, Trent picked up his fork and took a big bite of the eggs and moaned loudly, drawing Wood’s attention. “Mmm. I see why she loved these.” Trent nodded, pointing at the cheese dangling from his bottom lip. He quickly chased his mouthful with a huge gulp of juice, then went in again. “Wow. The cheese is literally melting in my mouth.” Although Trent’s stomach felt as if it was going to rebel any minute, Wood was watching him now with shimmering eyes and a pleased smile.
Trent would take this punishment for Wood. Hell, the bathroom was only a few feet away.
Chapter Eighteen
Wood
Trent took two muscle relaxers after he ate and ended up having to go lie down. Around four o’clock, Wood called Bishop and canceled their dinner plans for tonight since Trent was knocked out and he wasn’t really in the mood to entertain. In a nutshell… he was fucking horny and frustrated. Wood stayed in his room with his door open just in case Trent needed his help and lazily sketched in his notepad. He hadn’t felt any real inspiration in years, and he was getting nervous that he never would. If he couldn’t get into a reputable shop and perform his art again, then he’d survived all those damn years in that cage for nothing.