#Junkie (GearShark #1)(24)

I slammed the door in her face before she could open her mouth. For good measure, I threw the lock.

“What the f*ck was that?” Drew asked, befuddled.

“That girl was a total ho,” I snapped.

His eyes widened. “It’s not like I was going to hump her right here in the middle of the room.”

I laughed, a bitter sound. “I’m sure she’d have let you.”

“Trent,” Drew said. The word was a cross between awe and confusion.

I cursed beneath my breath. I was acting crazy. No. Jealous. I was acting jealous.

Because I was.

“I’m going to bed. If you want to hook up with her, go ahead.”

His hand caught my elbow when I tried to walk away. “I don’t want to hook up with her.”

Something in his voice made me look up. His fingers were cooler than my skin, and it felt like relief. “I’m not up for you hooking up with anyone tonight,” I admitted with a whisper.

Our eyes met and held. For long moments, we just watched each other. I swear I measured my breath with his.

Minutes later, he released my arm. I felt oddly empty without his touch.

I didn’t look at him again or say another word. I hightailed it for the bedroom like the chicken I was.

“I’m not up for hooking up with anyone tonight either.” His quiet words caught up to me.

I stopped in my tracks.

I liked those words. I liked them so goddamn much.

I didn’t turn back, though I wanted to.

I was scared.

“Goodnight, T,” Drew said a few minutes later.

I didn’t remember walking into the bedroom or pulling back the covers or getting into bed. I just remembered suddenly coming back to reality once I was there.

The faint sounds of Drew moving around in the next room made my skin prickle. I rolled over and put a pillow over my head to block the sound.

I didn’t need to hear him.

I knew he was there.





Drew

The disruptive sound of a banging door cut into my sleep. Still heavy lidded, I cracked one eye open, mustering all the alarm I could, not even awake enough to be startled.

“Sorry.” Trent winced, walking farther into the room. “Tried to catch it before it could slam.”

I rubbed a hand over my sleepy face, trying to wake up even just a fraction.

“What time is it?” I asked, propping myself up on one elbow to look at my cell.

“Seven,” he replied.

I groaned and dropped the phone back where it was. I wasn’t much of a morning person, even though I had to get up early every day for work.

It was the weekend. Shouldn’t a man be allowed to sleep in on a Saturday?

Not when he had meetings with men who had enough money to sponsor a racecar.

“Coffee.” Trent’s voice was close by, but he spoke low and amused. He clearly saw my resistance to having to get up.

A tall cup with a black lid appeared on the table in front of me. Right beside it, he set a plate piled with eggs, bacon, and an English muffin drenched in butter. My stomach rumbled appreciatively.

It was a traitor. So willing to get up this early just for some bacon.

His warm, muffled laugh brushed over me. It only made me want to burrow farther into the blankets. He stepped back, toward the table on the other side of the room, and suddenly I felt more awake.

“Here,” I said, my voice less sleepy now. I swung my feet over the side of the couch and sat up, pulling the blankets around my waist to make room for him to sit.

His plate, which was almost identical to mine (almost = less butter + more fruit), joined mine on the tabletop along with the same kind of coffee cup.

I flipped on the TV and pulled up the news so I could watch the weather report—get the conditions I might be driving in today.

The cushion on the sofa was one large, long one and it dipped a little when he sat. I was still reclined lazily against the back, staring at the moving screen on the TV, still waiting to fully wake up.

“Coffee.” The cup appeared right in front of my face. Trent was leaning close, holding it out like a beacon. He smelled like soap, the kind the hotel stocked. It was some fancy shit, and it actually was a good scent.

But it didn’t smell exactly as I recalled from my shower last night. It was slightly different, slightly more familiar. I realized it wasn’t the soap I was noticing, but Trent’s natural scent.

I glanced over, taking in his fully awake, clean-shaven face and washed hair. His hazel eyes bore flecks of gold that seemed brighter this morning, and his full lips looked slightly shiny, like they were wet.

I wondered if they would taste like coffee if I leaned forward and—

I jerked upright.

What. The. Fuck?

“Whoa.” He pulled my cup back a little and frowned. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I hurried to say. “I’m fine.” I took the coffee, carefully avoiding his fingers, and put it up to my lips. The first sip was always the best. Always the most rewarding.

This coffee was made exactly the way I liked it. Heavy on the cream, lighter on the sugar. I knew exactly how Trent drank his brew, too. Less cream and less sugar, which gave it a slightly stronger flavor.

“We still have an hour or so if you want to catch a few more minutes of sleep.” He sounded concerned.