#Rev (GearShark #2)(20)

“I know.” His eyes searched mine like he was looking for anything maybe I wasn’t saying.

“This isn’t going to be easy, Drew.” I warned him again. I don’t know why I felt the continued need to caution him about what being with me might cost.

His hand tightened around mine. “Like I said, the only thing I’m truly scared of is anything you won’t be around for.”

“I’ll always be here for you.” I promised.

“You and me against the world?” he asked, his tone lightening again.

I smiled. “I like our odds.”

“And for the record.” He began as he covered my package with his hand. “That was literally the best sex of my life. Good luck keeping me off you now.”

Warmth spread through my limbs. It felt a lot like genuine happiness.

So when the voice in the back of my head began to whisper about all the things Drew and I had yet to face, I ignored it.

The sun wouldn’t come up until tomorrow.





Drew

Morning came too fast. If I could have, I would’ve stayed in bed half the day. It was no secret I wasn’t a morning person, but getting to wake up with T beside me made it even worse.

For the first time since our first weekend together, he didn’t have to sneak out. I got to feel his body close by even as the sun’s rays began peeking through the blinds.

Because of his injuries, I resisted the urge to wrap myself around him, and I knew he was used to doing the same. Instead, I settled for pushing along his side as tight as I dared so we were pressed together as much as possible without me jarring his body.

“Downstairs in thirty!” Romeo called through the bedroom door as he lightly pounded on the wood.

The only reason I heard was because it seriously disturbed my comfortable state.

When no one answered, Romeo knocked again.

“Okay,” Trent called out, sleep thick in his tone.

Romeo stopped knocking and moved off down the hall. I groaned pathetically and rolled so I could face T. I kept my eyes closed, wanting to hold on to as much of the morning as I could before our family meeting so rudely interrupted.

Trent’s laugh was deep as his palm settled over my jaw and rubbed at my stubble.

He wasn’t kidding when he said he liked it. I’d never been one to keep the scruff very long, usually shaving for work, but not anymore. Anything tempted him to touch me was going to stay.

“I like not sneaking out at the crack of dawn,” he murmured, still rubbing across my jaw.

“I like waking up to you,” I told him, still reveling in his touch.

His lips replaced his hand. Softly they fluttered over my cheek and at the corner of my mouth. When he started to pull back, I grabbed his neck and kept him there, slipping my tongue into his mouth and kissing him deeply.

“Better than coffee.” My voice was gruff when I let go.

“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.