#Rev (GearShark #2)(21)
Since we were still naked, I was able to see the full damage to his chest and upper body. The bruise from where he was kicked in the shoulder was dark against his smooth skin and was a real contradiction to the muscles cording his body.
It was so goddamned unfair. If they hadn’t jumped him, he would have wiped the floor with their asses.
His ribs—ha, his ribs. They were black and blue. Puffy in the center and clearly tender to the slightest of movement. He didn’t seem to be having any trouble breathing, and I hadn’t yet heard a cough.
That was good, I guessed.
There were also a few marks I hadn’t noticed the night before, like the red dotted rash across the back of one arm. It looked like road burn from being pinned down on the driveway and beaten.
Basically, he looked like shit.
Sure, most of the wounds were superficial and he’d be fine in a week or less. But those ribs and the gash in his head would be there longer.
And every second they were, it would only feed my anger and thirst for revenge.
Yes. I was a grown-ass man. I had a college education, a career, and another career on the horizon.
It didn’t matter who you were. There were some things in a person’s life—a man’s life—that were off-limits.
Trent was one of those things. I wasn’t above revenge. Sometimes payback was inevitable.
“Can I borrow some clothes?” he asked, either not realizing how deadly I felt or pretending not to notice. “Mine are kinda ruined.”
The idea of him in my clothes was enough of a distraction, and my temperature gauge went from boiling to hot.
“I prefer you naked.” I stepped closer.
“Well, I can walk around in the buff all day if you want.”
I made a face and showed my teeth. “No one sees you naked but me.”
His lips tilted up into a half smirk, half smile. “Well then, Forrester,” he drawled, “I’m gonna need some clothes.”
He totally liked my possessive streak.
I stepped away to pull out some things, my favorite T-shirt and a pair of loose sweats that were slightly too big on me so they’d probably fit him perfectly.
Then I pulled out a pair of black Calvin Kleins.
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re gonna let me wear those designer boxers?”
I returned his expression. “You like my designer taste in drawers, do you?”
“You wore those that night in the hotel, when we went to meet with Gamble,” Trent recalled. The heat of his stare pierced me. “Do you know how long it took me to fall asleep that night?” His voice dropped as he stepped forward.
“Probably the same amount of time it took me.” I matched his tone. We stared into each other’s eyes, almost measuring one another, desire and electricity crackling through the room.
I cleared my throat and lifted the boxers between us, dangling them off my fingertip. “What do you say, frat boy? Wanna put your package in the same place mine usually goes?”
He snatched the underwear off my finger and fisted them in a tight grip. At the same time, one arm snaked around me and jerked me into his body. I tried to pull back, afraid of touching his middle, but he wouldn’t let go.
“I’m gonna walk around with a stiff dick all day now because every time I shift and these f*cking boxers touch my cock, I’m gonna know they did the same to yours.”
I reached between us and cupped him gently. “Sounds like exquisite torture to me.”
He lowered his head and claimed my mouth. He kissed me soft and slow, like right there between us, our cocks weren’t stirring and our hearts weren’t hammering.
He pulled back. “Thanks for the clothes, Forrester.”
I caught his wrist. “Wait.” I didn’t want him moving around too much. “You should sit down.”
He rolled his eyes. “I’m taking a shower.”
I felt my lips thin.
He sighed. “I know you wiped up my cuts and shit, but I need to clean up. I need to wash my hair. Besides, the warm water will be good for my stiffness.”
“Fine.” I relented. “The Band-Aid on your head needs changed anyway.”
“You inviting yourself into my shower?” His eyebrows lifted.
I was now. I nodded, grave. “You might need help.”
He chuckled. “C’mon, then.”
I rushed around to get some clothes for myself and then flung a towel laying on my dresser at T. Once it was around his waist, I opened the door and peered out into the empty hallway. Gesturing with my head, I stepped out, holding my clothes as a shield for my junk.
The second we were shut in the bathroom, Trent gave me a look.
“What?” I asked, reaching behind the curtain to turn on the spray.
“I needed a towel to walk down the hall, but you just strutted right along naked as the day you were born?”
“Pretty much.” I shrugged and yanked the towel from around him.
“Asshole,” he said fondly.
The shower wasn’t as eventful as we both wanted it to be. We were under a time clock for the family meeting, and T really did look rough and I honestly didn’t want him moving around too much.
If last night hadn’t been so f*cking awesome, I’d have felt bad about it.
But it was awesome. I wasn’t lying when I said it was the best sex I’d had in my entire life. It wasn’t just physical (though that part was bomb), it was the emotional connection between us as well. In that moment, we were tethered body and soul.