#Junkie (GearShark #1)(81)

“It wouldn’t be the big deal you’re thinking it would be.” She went on.

Okay. This woman needed a muzzle. She had no idea when to shut up. Clearly, this was why she was still single.

“What are you talking about?” Trent asked.

“Nothing,” I said. “Let’s go.”

“It could actually work to your advantage. It’s almost trendy these days. You’d get more press, and your career would probably benefit. We could spin—”

I silenced her with a slash of my hand in the air. “You said this was off the record.”

She inclined her head. “It is, but—”

“No but. You’re way off base here. If I even hear a whisper of this conversation in the media, I will sue you for defamation of character.”

“I didn’t mean to insult you.” Her eyes widened.

“I’m not insulted.” I protested. “I just don’t like it when people I don’t know make assumptions and try to tell me how to handle my career.”

“I’ve overstepped.” She fidgeted.

Trent, who had been listening to the exchange with quiet interest, gave me a look. “What the hell is going on?”

“I look forward to reading your article.” I lied.

“As soon as the draft is complete, I’ll email it to you.” She offered.

“Great. Thank you. Have a safe trip home.” I turned and walked away.

Trent appeared at my side a few seconds later, his long legs having no problem catching up to me. “What the f*ck happened?”

“You have the keys to the Mustang?”

He pulled them out of his pocket and held them up. “Drew.” Trent grabbed my arm.

I stopped walking and pulled back. “She asked me if we were in a relationship,” I said low and fast.

Shock flickered over his face. “Are you serious?”

“She wanted to break the story. She thinks me being gay will benefit my career.”

Trent laughed, but it was a hollow, empty sound. “How the hell did she figure it out?”

“I didn’t stare at her tits or take her in the back room for a quickie,” I replied, harsh. “So of course I’m gay.”

Trent rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and swore beneath his breath. “I’m sorry.” Regret laced his tone. “Wait.” He glanced up. “She hit on you?”

Amusement coursed through me. “Who’s the possessive one now?”

He looked sheepish. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”

“Fuck that,” I spat. “She was just nosing around for a story.”

“A lot of reporters are gonna do that.”

Frustration welled up inside me. So much frustration. I wished this were easier.

“You gotta go to class this afternoon?” I asked.

“Not if you don’t want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” I whispered.

There it was again. Sparks, currents of attraction between us. It was a force all its own, so tangible if I had a spoon, I could likely scoop it out of the air.

“C’mon,” T said, able to break free first. “Joey promised me a ride in her Skyline.”

“Sounds good.” My shoulders relaxed, and I smiled what felt like my first real smile in almost the entire day.

And that’s how I knew the love I felt for Trent was real. The kind people fought for. Because even the threat of a reporter “outing” us to everyone wasn’t enough to keep me from wanting to spend the rest of the day with him.

The three of us spent several hours tearing up the back roads in the Skyline and the Fastback. Joey’s car was a fine piece of car ass.

After that, we grabbed some food. I ate all of T’s fries. He ate my tomatoes.

We pulled into the driveway late in the afternoon. Trent’s Mustang was still sitting where we left it, and it looked like no one else was here.

“Looks like we got the place to ourselves for a while,” I said.

“It won’t be enough.”

We went straight up to my room, not even pausing to take off our shoes. Inside, Trent didn’t ask; he didn’t wait for a word from me. He didn’t hesitate.

The second the door latched, he was there. His big body pushed me up against the door, but he was gentle and deliberate. Strong arms slipped around me and his forearms took the weight of my body.

I ceased to breathe.

I ceased to think.

But I saw.

I saw the warm intent in his gold-flecked eyes. I saw the pain from desire left too long enflamed. I watched the way he came at me tenderly as the pain I’d just seen didn’t matter at all.

The contact of his lips was thorough; every inch of his mouth covered mine. We fused together like two halves of a whole, bonded by want, inspired by need.

He kissed me heavily, like we were both pulled under by a drug that muted everything around us. My chest felt tight, but it wasn’t from lack of air. It was too much emotion.

My entire torso burned with pressure, the kind that drove my tongue farther into his mouth and sent his lips even deeper upon mine. The pads of Trent’s fingers dug into the muscles in my back as he held me, our chests pressed together, and one of his thighs was between mine.

He lifted his lips long enough so we could both suck in one breath, tilted his head in the opposite direction, and assaulted my mouth again.