“Something tells me you’re still gonna need it,” he mused, pushing back some hair that had fallen over my forehead. He touched me like I was cherished. Like he loved me so deeply I could feel it in his fingertips with every caress.
“I love you,” I whispered, wanting him to know I felt the same.
“Thank you.”
I smiled. Thanking someone when they said I love you wasn’t likely a normal reply. In fact, I had it on pretty damn good authority if I said that to a woman, she’d probably try to corndog me.
Corndog = the official term for when a woman knees (or kicks) a dude in his goods.
T wasn’t a woman. Thank God for that. And his response was perfect. He didn’t take me for granted—us for granted. He was grateful for the way I felt, and he wanted me to know how much it meant that I’d handed over my heart.
He might have hesitated in taking it at first, but not for very long and not because he didn’t want it. Trent was thankful I didn’t give up even when he told me to.
“Think they’ll notice if we don’t go downstairs?” I asked, hopeful.
He made a rude sound. “Hells yes, they’ll notice. Then they’ll all be crowding in here, staring at us in bed together.”
“Well, that’s an unpleasant image,” I muttered.
He grinned, and I was glad my eyes were finally open to see it.
“You can put off rolling out of bed for a few more minutes. I’m gonna take a shower.” He started to push up off the mattress, and his mouth pulled into a taunt line.
All sleepiness vanished. I bolted up, and my eyes narrowed when I noted his stiff and slow movements.
“Fuck,” I growled. “Hang on, frat boy.”
Of course he didn’t listen. I had to scramble to get up before him. I spider climbed over the bed and got out on his side. Once I was on my feet, he was in a sitting position with his legs thrown over the side.
I slid my shoulder beneath his arm and stood, bringing him with me. “All the soreness has set in, huh?” I asked, trying to temper my anger.
He made a gruff sound. “I’m just stiff. I’ll be fine once I move around a bit.”
I stepped back and looked him over. Forget tempering the anger. Just looking at him pissed me off all over again.
Not only had all his soreness set in, but so had all the bruises.
His eye was still puffy and swollen (though not swollen shut anymore); the skin around it was dark and mottled. His lip was cut and red, the corner of it still fat, and the cut on his ear was still fresh and raw-looking. I knew beneath the giant Band-Aid I’d put on his head, the gash there would probably still be raw and now bruised as well.
Since we were still naked, I was able to see the full damage to his chest and upper body. The bruise from where he was kicked in the shoulder was dark against his smooth skin and was a real contradiction to the muscles cording his body.
It was so goddamned unfair. If they hadn’t jumped him, he would have wiped the floor with their asses.
His ribs—ha, his ribs. They were black and blue. Puffy in the center and clearly tender to the slightest of movement. He didn’t seem to be having any trouble breathing, and I hadn’t yet heard a cough.
That was good, I guessed.
There were also a few marks I hadn’t noticed the night before, like the red dotted rash across the back of one arm. It looked like road burn from being pinned down on the driveway and beaten.
Basically, he looked like shit.
Sure, most of the wounds were superficial and he’d be fine in a week or less. But those ribs and the gash in his head would be there longer.
And every second they were, it would only feed my anger and thirst for revenge.
Yes. I was a grown-ass man. I had a college education, a career, and another career on the horizon.
It didn’t matter who you were. There were some things in a person’s life—a man’s life—that were off-limits.
Trent was one of those things. I wasn’t above revenge. Sometimes payback was inevitable.
“Can I borrow some clothes?” he asked, either not realizing how deadly I felt or pretending not to notice. “Mine are kinda ruined.”
The idea of him in my clothes was enough of a distraction, and my temperature gauge went from boiling to hot.
“I prefer you naked.” I stepped closer.
“Well, I can walk around in the buff all day if you want.”
I made a face and showed my teeth. “No one sees you naked but me.”
His lips tilted up into a half smirk, half smile. “Well then, Forrester,” he drawled, “I’m gonna need some clothes.”
He totally liked my possessive streak.
I stepped away to pull out some things, my favorite T-shirt and a pair of loose sweats that were slightly too big on me so they’d probably fit him perfectly.
Then I pulled out a pair of black Calvin Kleins.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna let me wear those designer boxers?”
I returned his expression. “You like my designer taste in drawers, do you?”
“You wore those that night in the hotel, when we went to meet with Gamble,” Trent recalled. The heat of his stare pierced me. “Do you know how long it took me to fall asleep that night?” His voice dropped as he stepped forward.
“Probably the same amount of time it took me.” I matched his tone. We stared into each other’s eyes, almost measuring one another, desire and electricity crackling through the room.
I cleared my throat and lifted the boxers between us, dangling them off my fingertip. “What do you say, frat boy? Wanna put your package in the same place mine usually goes?”
He snatched the underwear off my finger and fisted them in a tight grip. At the same time, one arm snaked around me and jerked me into his body. I tried to pull back, afraid of touching his middle, but he wouldn’t let go.
“I’m gonna walk around with a stiff dick all day now because every time I shift and these fucking boxers touch my cock, I’m gonna know they did the same to yours.”
I reached between us and cupped him gently. “Sounds like exquisite torture to me.”
He lowered his head and claimed my mouth. He kissed me soft and slow, like right there between us, our cocks weren’t stirring and our hearts weren’t hammering.
He pulled back. “Thanks for the clothes, Forrester.”
I caught his wrist. “Wait.” I didn’t want him moving around too much. “You should sit down.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m taking a shower.”
I felt my lips thin.
He sighed. “I know you wiped up my cuts and shit, but I need to clean up. I need to wash my hair. Besides, the warm water will be good for my stiffness.”
“Fine.” I relented. “The Band-Aid on your head needs changed anyway.”
“You inviting yourself into my shower?” His eyebrows lifted.
I was now. I nodded, grave. “You might need help.”
He chuckled. “C’mon, then.”
I rushed around to get some clothes for myself and then flung a towel laying on my dresser at T. Once it was around his waist, I opened the door and peered out into the empty hallway. Gesturing with my head, I stepped out, holding my clothes as a shield for my junk.
The second we were shut in the bathroom, Trent gave me a look.
“What?” I asked, reaching behind the curtain to turn on the spray.
“I needed a towel to walk down the hall, but you just strutted right along naked as the day you were born?”
“Pretty much.” I shrugged and yanked the towel from around him.
“Asshole,” he said fondly.
The shower wasn’t as eventful as we both wanted it to be. We were under a time clock for the family meeting, and T really did look rough and I honestly didn’t want him moving around too much.
If last night hadn’t been so fucking awesome, I’d have felt bad about it.
But it was awesome. I wasn’t lying when I said it was th
e best sex I’d had in my entire life. It wasn’t just physical (though that part was bomb), it was the emotional connection between us as well. In that moment, we were tethered body and soul.
Once we were both clean (some parts cleaner than others *wags eyebrows*), I shut off the water and, to his frustration, helped towel-dry him.
“I’m not a damn invalid,” he griped.
“Here, put on my underwear.” I thrust the black boxers at him.
Once we were both dry and wearing boxers, I pushed the hair off his face and made him sit so I could re-bandage his forehead.
I sort of wished he’d gotten stitches. It probably would have healed faster.
“Hey,” he rasped, grabbing my wrist and pulling it down. When my eyes met his, he said, “It’s fine.”
I didn’t say anything, just finished applying some more antibacterial cream and another butterfly. Since he wasn’t leaving this house today, I didn’t bother with another large bandage over it, figuring the air would be better.
I dabbed a little more cream on various other scrapes and cuts. Then we both got dressed.
I was right. Seeing him in my shirt—my favorite shirt—was going to drive me crazy all day. The boxers might be his sweet torture, but watching his shoulders ripple beneath my shirt was mine.
The strength in his body was quite the turn-on.
“Yo!” Braeden called up from downstairs. “Get your gay asses down here!”
“Go ahead.” I opened the door and motioned for T to go first. “I’m gonna grab the pain reliever out of the bedroom and bring it down.”
He was still moving slow, but not as slow as when he first got up.
He was just stepping off the stairs when I jogged down. Without any thought at all, I hooked an arm around his waist and offered some support, moving toward the living room. He didn’t lean on me, but he did grab the back of my shirt and bunch it in his hand.
In the living room, four sets of eyes turned on both of us. My feet stalled a little when I realized they were watching us… It was the first time we’d touched each other as more than friends in front of anyone.
And no, there was nothing even seductive about it. It was more me trying to help him move, but it was still more than we usually did. The second I reacted to being watched, Trent took it to heart. He let go of the back of my shirt and smoothed it out, cleared his throat, and stepped away.
Part of me was relieved, and that made the rest of me feel ashamed.
Ashamed because I didn’t want to feel apprehensive about being open about how I felt about him in front of others.
“Don’t be shy on our account,” Romeo drawled from the couch. Rimmel was right beside him with her one-eyed black cat Murphy on her lap.
Damn. So much for hoping no one but Trent noticed my reaction.
I glanced around for my sister. She was smiling up at me from the floor where she and Nova were sitting on a big, fluffy blanket. The baby had a toy in her mouth and drool all over her hand. She was adorable.
Ivy gave me an encouraging smile. I reached for Trent’s hand, linking them together. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. “It’s okay,” he whispered.
“So is this,” I insisted, tightening the hold I had on his fingers and stepping forward, drawing him along with me. Maybe he understood better than I did what just happened. Hell, he seemed to accept it.
I didn’t.
I wasn’t going to do that to him.
To me.
Loving him was nothing to be ashamed of. I wouldn’t put him in a neat little box I only opened when I thought no one was looking. He deserved more.
Braeden got up off the couch where he was lounging and slid into a nearby chair. Everyone already had mugs of coffee in their hands, and I knew Rome wanted to get down to family business, but I needed my damn caffeine.
Coffee was like gas to my car. I simply didn’t start without it.
“I’m gonna grab some coffee,” I told everyone when Trent was on the couch.
In the kitchen, I hurried to grab the brew and a bottle of water. I dumped a few pills into the palm of my hand and abandoned the bottle to the counter.
In the living room, Braeden and Romeo were debating some football play, and I held the pills over the back of the sofa for T to take. Once they were in his mouth, I handed him the water and moved to sit down beside him.
We didn’t touch, but I sat close enough so the sides of our legs were pressed together. He set aside the water, and I sipped at my coffee.
Once I had a little in my system, I handed the mug to him.
He glanced between me and the mug. Then he took it and lifted it to his lips. I knew the second the brew hit his taste buds because his eyes came back to mine.
“This is how I drink it,” he said out of the side of his mouth.
I hid a smile. “I was too lazy to make two.”
I liked sharing my coffee with him. I liked eating off his plate. I liked anything that moved me just one centimeter closer to him.
“You two are like a damn Nicholas Sparks movie,” Braeden announced, and T choked on the coffee he was drinking. “Stop it. We got shit to deal with. People to payback.”
“You watch Nicholas Spark movies?” Romeo asked, blinking at Braeden.
Rimmel giggled.
“Maybe once,” Braeden muttered.
“And you think we’re the gay ones?” Trent goaded him.
I laughed. So did Romeo.
“Oh, for shit’s sake!” he declared. “Ivy was all hormonal. Have you ever told a pregnant woman no?”
Ivy grinned from her seat on the floor, and Nova laughed. Trent’s chuckle was rich and deep. I enjoyed the sound until he sucked in a breath and shifted.
I took the coffee from his hand and gently pressed my palm over his middle. I knew it wouldn’t help, but I couldn’t do nothing.
“I’ll get some ice.” Rimmel fussed and rushed into the kitchen.
Why didn’t I think of ice?
Seconds later, she came back with a bag of frozen peas (no one ever ate them, so they made for good ice packs) and an actual bag of ice wrapped in a towel. “Here,” she said, leaning over Trent to place the peas against his side.
It wasn’t lost on me that the second Rim leaned close enough to touch him, Braeden sat up quickly, ready to act.
I knew he was thinking of last night when Ivy tried to clean Trent up and I’d snapped at her for getting close. I still felt like shit about it, but it was a natural reaction. He was suffering, and I felt like a lion standing guard.
I caught B’s eye and shook my head slightly. “I’m cooled off.”
Braeden nodded and sat back, but his eyes remained sharp on his sister, like he wouldn’t leave anything to chance.
“Is that okay?” Rim asked him, holding the ice against his side. If she noticed the undercurrents between me and her brother, she didn’t acknowledge them. Instead, she was focused just on Trent. “Lower?”
Rimmel had an extremely caring and tender nature. It made her job running an animal shelter perfect for her.
Trent covered her hand with his and smiled. “Right here is good.”
Rimmel smiled and pulled her hand from beneath his and gently put the second pack of ice against his eye. “Hold this there.”
I took the coffee from him so he could do as she said. I would have laughed at him sitting there with ice all over and both hands holding it in different places. But his injuries weren’t funny.
Trent seemed like he didn’t want to put the ice on his face. I knew it probably made him feel like a wimp, but he didn’t argue. No one in this house argued with Rim.
Romeo would kick their ass.
Besides that, it was hard to defy such an innocent face who truly just wanted to help.
“Just hold it on there for fifteen to twenty minutes.” Rimmel drew back and stared down at him. “Sitting upright and icing it like this will draw out a lot more of the swelling. You’ll be more comfortable.”
&
nbsp; “Thanks, sis.” Trent nodded.
Everyone in the room reacted. Not really a physical reaction. Not even the kind of reaction most people would notice. But we were family; we noticed. We heard.
He called her sis. A three-letter word. No big deal.
Way big deal.
It was the first time—ever—Trent actually acknowledged the way he felt about our family out loud.
Yes, he called everyone in this house his family. Yes, he attended all the family meetings, and yes, he was one of us.
But…
He was the quiet one. The one who sometimes silently set himself apart.
A light bulb went on inside me. Around the mug, my fingers tightened.
He’d always done that because of me. The closer our family got, the more determined he’d been to draw a line, keeping himself just out of reach.
In case he had to walk away.
He confessed he fought his feelings for me a long, long time. He confessed he never thought I’d feel the same. All this time, the distance he allowed between us all… it was so he would hurt less when he had to walk away.
I rubbed a hand over my jaw, flabbergasted.
Last night had been hell.
Pure hell on Earth.
Now that the sun was up and we’d battled out the worst of it, I could look back on it with a little clarity.
Stars can’t shine without darkness.
He never would have been able to fully accept his place in this family if I we hadn’t gone through that fight—if I hadn’t fought for our relationship.
He was totally mine now.
He was all in.
Acknowledging Rimmel as his sister was proof.
Everyone was quiet, sort of still (except for the baby; she was drooling all over her toys). Rimmel sniffled and pushed at the wild mane of dark, tangled hair around her face.
Trent looked up at her, almost timid.
“You called me sis,” she whispered.
I read the self-consciousness in his body language. I practically heard him debating in his head. Obviously, he’d said it naturally, but once it came out, he realized all the shit I’d just sat here and understood.
“Is that okay?” he asked.
Rimmel made a choked sound and practically threw herself at him.
A few things happened at once.
#Rev (GearShark #2) Page 7
