“Where are you trying to go?” Trent asked him. “Maybe you should lie down and drink some more.”
“I will.”
“Good.” Trent tried to turn, but Wood stopped him.
“I need to go to the bathroom.”
Trent’s cheeks flushed, and a pretty blush color worked its way down his chest. “Okay.”
Wood didn’t know if Trent was relieved or disappointed when he told him he didn’t need for him to come in the bathroom and help. He’d argued that it might not be safe for him to shower alone, and Wood couldn’t stop the curve of one side of his mouth. He slowly removed Trent’s hands from around his waist and kissed his knuckles.
“I can handle it,” he promised and closed himself inside, keeping it unlocked like he agreed. He could tell Trent didn’t want to leave him alone, but Wood had suffered enough humiliation. He needed to do this part by himself.
Wood took a long, hot shower, not thinking Trent would care about breaking their ten-minute rule. Hell, it’d taken him at least that long to go from the toilet over into the tub. His body was still achy, but he felt more sluggish and tired than he did physical pain now. Wood brushed his teeth three times, then rinsed with the mouthwash as flashbacks of him getting sick all over himself made him want to vomit again. He scrubbed his face clean, but there was no amount of soap that would wash away the embarrassment. He wrapped a towel around his waist and shut off the light. When he opened the door, his heart stuttered to see Trent standing there waiting.
“Hey.” Trent chewed on his lip. “You need my help?”
Wood shook his head, and Trent began to back away when he reached out and caught his bicep. “You don’t have to jump up every time you hear me. I’m all right,” Wood tried to reassure him, but Trent looked as if he was insulting him.
“I was actually heading towards my room when you opened the door, so…”
“Mmhmm,” Wood hummed, letting Trent know he didn’t believe him, and he smiled when he rolled those soft, brown eyes.
“I heated up some more soup. You should probably try to eat now.”
“Thanks. I’ll be out in a second,” Wood answered, but neither of them moved. Trent’s eyes were on his wet chest, his gaze hungry and his nostrils flaring. Wood liked that the closer they stood, the farther Trent had to tilt his head back to hold their eye contact. He stood there panting against Wood’s damp skin, making it extremely difficult for him not to beg Trent to take him to bed and make him forget everything messed up in this world.
Chapter Thirty
Trent
Trent sat in the living room playing his video game while he gave Wood as much time as he needed in his bedroom. He didn’t want to hover, and Wood seemed to be moving around a little better. When he heard him coming down the hall, Trent didn’t jump up and rush to his side this time; he let Wood trudge into the kitchen and sit down at the table where he’d already heated up a large bowl of chicken-and-wild-rice soup for him. Trent was damn near holding his breath until he heard the spoon clanging the bottom of the bowl.
“What’s this? I don’t drink these,” Wood rumbled, his voice sounding stronger. “They taste disgusting, and they’re full of sugar.”
“Seriously.” Trent closed his eyes and smiled in relief. He liked grumpy, complaining Wood. “Just drink it. Gatorade will give you the electrolytes you lost.”
“Thanks, doc,” Wood mumbled.
Trent ignored the few “ewws” and “ughs” that came from the dining room and continued with his game. He was still pretty beat, and his body ached from the hours spent on the hard floor. When Wood got up and left the kitchen, Trent was tempted to chase behind him and ask him what he was doing? Where he was going? How he was feeling? What the hell happened the other night? And finally… was he really leaving Virginia Beach? All that angry talk was just the liquor. Had to be. Besides, Wood couldn’t just run away—he was on parole. It would take weeks, maybe even months, to get approved for a jurisdiction transfer.
“Are you still playing, or are you fucking daydreaming? Shoot them! I’m getting my ass kicked!” Summer yelled through his gaming headset.
“Oh shit, sorry,” he said and refocused on their mission.
“What are you doing! Come on!”
Trent rolled his eyes as his thumbs beat the hell out of his controller in an attempt to get away from the ambush. “Will you calm down, I got this.”
After they were free and clear, he and Summer proceeded to play. He kept his voice down, despite her outrageous shrills anytime he messed up, not sure if Wood had decided to lie back down after his dinner. He’d been focused on the hunt in his game when Wood came around the corner with his comforter wrapped around him as if he was freezing. Trent couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped when Wood slogged over and dropped down on the couch and stretched out, placing his head in Trent’s lap.
“Have you turned into a forty-six-year-old baby on me?”
“Shut up, brat. I’m cold and you have good body heat.” Wood snagged the throw pillow, shoved it under his head, and snuggled in closer to Trent’s stomach.
He was grateful Wood put the pillow where he did because he didn’t want to accidentally give him an ear canal probe. Trent was already feeling his cock swell, and he spread his legs a bit wider to give his balls some room to throb. Wood smelled so damn good, like the scent he was used to. Trent inhaled deeply, which was a mistake, because the more his senses became flooded with Wood, the more incoherent he became. Wood had turned toward him, his solid, heavy body pressing wonderfully against his thighs.
“Trent! Pay attention!” Summer barked.
“Summer, I gotta go,” Trent breathed, having forgotten he was online.
“What? You’re bailing in the middle of a mission? Ugh, you loser.” He could hear Summer scrambling with her headset. “Leave the troops to me, then. I’ll save them all myself.”
Trent ignored her and took off his headset and tossed it on the table. He signed off Call of Duty and turned the cable on, not caring what channel it was set to.
“She sounds insane,” Wood mumbled, his hot breath seeping through the thin material of his shirt.
“Not really. Only with video games.”
“So that was Summer, huh?”
Trent smiled down at Wood, and before he knew it, he’d driven his fingers into the soft, silvery strands of hair, unable to resist the touch any longer.
Wood rolled onto his back and gazed up at him through red eyes. “I like it when you do that.”
“It’s nice when you don’t have a ton of gel in it.”
Wood’s throaty laugh was music to his ears. “I don’t use gel. It’s styling mousse.”
“Oh, I see. Us regular guys use a two-in-one shampoo and hope the hair looks all right when it air-dries.”
“Yeah.” Wood sighed tiredly. “Your hair is perfect.”
Trent bit his bottom lip. Somehow the tone had shifted from casual to intimate. He stroked Wood’s head, tenderly scratching at his scalp as they both dozed on and off. Every now and then he’d catch Wood watching him through dreamy eyes, and a slow smile would spread across his face before he drifted again.