#Rev (GearShark #2)(11)

“My blood is on your shirt,” Trent rasped, pulling back from the drink.

“I know.”

“Kiss me.” The request seemed to rip right out of him. You know that place I mentioned he never let anyone see?

With deliberate care, I capped the water and slowly set it aside. When I turned back, he was watching me, hunger and nervousness in his gaze.

It was a painful thing to want someone so much but to constantly deny yourself. It was even more so to let yourself believe the person you wanted so badly returned the desire.

I leaned forward, bracing my arm on the mattress on the other side of his waist, caging him in without touching him.

The back of his head hit the headboard, and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat. The tip of my tongue wet my lips so they would slide right over his.

They did.

Oh, they did.

Trent held himself still; he didn’t kiss me back. If I didn’t know him, I might have taken that the wrong way, but I did know him.

I took his stillness right to my heart. It pierced like a clear piece of glass slicing right into that tender spot on the bottom of your foot.

He was taking something in that moment. Something just for him. Something he really wanted.

I was flattered. I was overwhelmed.

It was the first thing I’d ever seen him take.

Yeah, maybe it was just a kiss. But it wasn’t. It was so so much more.

I poured everything into that kiss. Everything into my lips as I rubbed them softly over his. The one side was puffy, and I took a little care there, licking over it with my tongue, making sure it was good and slick so he didn’t feel any kind of pain.

Between kisses, I would lift my head just a fraction of an inch and tilt my head a different way. The change in direction enhanced the kiss; it made certain I touched every last centimeter of his mouth.

He reveled in it. His body, which he’d held with stiffness and pain up until now, went boneless against the mattress. Small sounds I don’t think he even heard vibrated the deep part of his throat.

I sensed rather than saw his hands fist into the sheets at his sides with restraint, as if it took everything in him just to take and not give back.

But, oh, he was giving. He was giving me so much by just reacting. If I hadn’t already fallen in love with him, I would have right at that moment.

In fact, I think I fell a little harder.

It was a heady thing to be so incredibly wanted. To be the balm to a wounded soul, the answer to someone’s prayer.

“Forrester.” My name ripped from his lips when I sat back and shook out my trembling arms.

“Frat boy,” I answered, and a second of panic almost ruined the moment pressing in around us. I wasn’t supposed to call him that anymore.

Sure, he said he didn’t like it, but we both knew that was a lie. He loved it when I called him that. It was a term of endearment, something only I ever got away with. But now, to him, it was a slur. A connection to the men who jumped him.

I felt my eyes widen. His own cleared; a little of the passion glazing over his body cleared.

“It was—” An accident.

“No.” He stopped me and brushed the pad of his thumb across my lower lip. “You can call me that. You can call me whatever the hell you want, and I’ll always answer.”

“If it reminds you…” I began, and he shook his head.

“It reminds me of who I am to you. Only you.”

“Only me,” I echoed and went back for more of his lips.

This time, he kissed me back, his palms sliding over my jaw and holding. I smiled a little inside when he rubbed at the stubble and groaned.

The next thing I knew, he was holding my head and dragging his teeth down my jaw and kissing across my neck. I tossed my head back to give him better access as he sucked at the skin and made me moan.

The sound seemed to snap him out of his trance. His body stiffened and pulled back. My eyes sprang open, disappointed at the absence of his lips.

“Shit,” he swore and pushed my head back so he could stare at my neck. He grunted. “No mark.”

“That’s disappointing.”

Trent frowned. “I’m not gonna mark you where everyone will see.”

“Right. ‘Cause you don’t want people to know you love me.” My voice was bitter, and I pulled away from him.

“I don’t want you to be punished for this.” His voice begged me to understand.

My heart refused.

I shoved off the bed and paced the room. How easy it was to forget tomorrow. How easy it was to live in denial.

How easy it was for reality to come back and rip everything away.

Frustrated, I swung around. “I wanted that mark,” I said angry. “I wanted something of you. Something I could look at…” My voice trailed away, and I shook my head.

“Something what?” Trent pushed.

I turned away.

“Something of me that would be here when I leave?” The pain in his voice was as real as the stuff building in my chest.

“Maybe,” I whispered but didn’t turn around.

“Come here, Forrester.” The commanding tone in the words was almost undeniable.

I looked over my shoulder at him. I didn’t see the bruises and the Band-Aids. I didn’t see his scraped knuckles or the smear of red beneath his lip (guess I kissed him a little too hard).