Lag (The boys of RDA #2)(59)

He takes the bag to the small kitchen bar and sits at one of the stools. I go back to sorting boxes, but this time I stack them in piles according to those Trey can touch and those I must keep him far away from.

“What’s your computer password?” he calls from the other side of the open living space.

“Stevens1.”

“Really?” his question makes me raise my head.

“Yeah”

“If I can guess as much, so can probably every Internet hacker out there.”

I walk to the space on the counter and stand next to him leaning a hip on the side to watch what he does as he types in the password and starts messing with my settings.

“Yeah, Mr. Smarty Pants, what’s your password?”

“P34jst87.” He stops typing to give me a “so there” look.

“What? It’s random letters and numbers. How do you even remember it?”

His fingers go back to the keys. “I just told you. Therefore, I remember it.”

“Is this your inner nerd coming out?”

He laughs. “No, my nerd is when I argue who shot first — Greedo or Solo.” He hits the keys a few more times and then closes the screen. "Solo. Don’t believe anything the Special Edition tells you.”

I stare at him, but he doesn’t explain himself. “There you’re all set. Did you find more boxes for me to help with?”





CHAPTER THIRTY


I walk out from the bedroom collapsing the last cardboard box. “You know the good thing about my current vagabond lifestyle?”

Trey turns around on the couch. “Huh, let me think.” His eyes travel up and down and make me feel exposed even in the jeans and t-shirt I changed into this morning. “Hobo food is easy to make?”

I toss the flattened box like a Frisbee toward the pile by the kitchen bar and surprisingly it hits the mark even if it lands on the side rather than right on top. “No,” I point to the small pile of unpacked boxes, “easy unpacking.” The couch sits a foot or so from the wall even though there isn’t space for that kind of layout in the small apartment. I stop on the back side of it and lean closer to Trey. “I’m hungry.”

“Hmm, me too.” He leans closer and one hand cups my cheek drawing me closer to him until our lips press together. He pulls away enough to bite my bottom lip and I moan at the contact. I’m seconds away from crawling over the back of the couch when he pulls away and I steal a breath.

Trey leans back to his regular position. “You worked hard today. What can I order to feed you?”

His mention of more takeout makes my nose scrunch up in disgust. “I am so tired of eating from bags.” I walk around the sofa and sit to Trey’s side. My feet go up, but then I realize there is no coffee table for me to prop them up on. Looks like I have to buy some furniture after all. “Let’s cook here.”

“We can do that. There’s a store down the street. We’ll go pick you up some basics.”

My brain and I are still in debate over what color the new coffee table should be when the silence registers and I look in Trey’s direction. His eyes are a little wider and darker than normal.

“What?” I question.

One side of his lips raise slightly higher turning it into a grin. A smug grin. Trey is up to no good.

“This reminds me of a time when we were sitting on a couch together.” When I stare at him with a blank expression, he gives more clues. “Except we were at my house and you were on my lap.”

My face heats before he finishes his sentence.

“There’s one small difference this time.” He leans closer.

To keep the same distance between us, I push my upper body back. “Yeah, what’s that?”

“This time your boss won’t call and interrupt before all the fun gets started.” He reaches a hand out but lays it on the back of the couch rather than touching me like I'd anticipated. “Now where were we before? I believe you were on my lap and I was working to get your shirt off.”

His pointer finger does a come hither movement. All those pesky concerns I had about food no longer matter when I spot a different kind of hunger in Trey’s eyes. I bring my legs up underneath me on the couch and inch toward Trey never taking my eyes from his. When I reach his side, he purses his lips. I brace both arms on either side of him and grip the back of the fluffy couch. One leg goes over both of his to sit on his other side and I hover over him, close, but not touching.

“Like this?” I ask.

Both his hands come to either side of my hips and he pulls me down until I’m straddling him. “No. It was more like this.”

His hands move up my body and I try to ignore the shivers his slow caress creates. When he reaches my shoulders, he pulls me closer and his mouth lands on my collarbone. The kisses he places there start small, but then he increases to weak bites and my body begins to shudder with each one.

I’m lost in the moment, but when Trey stands up I grab on to his neck as quickly as possible. “Trey!” My legs wrap around his waist and he's now eye level with my chest.

He leans his head back enough to answer my cry. “Change of plans.” Then he starts to nibble on the area between my breasts.

My body tenses more each time his lips make contact over my shirt. When we reach the hallway, my back is flattened against the wall. With our new position, the top of his head hits my chin. I try to line us up again, but when he looks up he has to take a step back. I whimper as my body leaves the wall.