#Rev (GearShark #2)(63)

I knew he told me not to apologize. I knew he said I didn’t have to be responsible for what my father said to him. I said it anyway. “I’m sorry about what he said to you.”

Trent threaded our fingers together and lifted my knuckles to his lips. After a few minutes, he said, “It’s easier to blame me than you.”

“There shouldn’t be any blame at all,” I said. “Why does it feel like such a crime, such a hurdle to love you?”

“I don’t know, Forrester,” he murmured, kissing the backs of my fingers again. “I’m not sure I ever will.”

“I’m gonna go clean up,” I said, choosing to change the subject.

He released my hand. “I’ll be there in a sec. I’m gonna order some room service.”

The rest of the night, we watched TV, ate room service, and made out. We kept the conversation light and didn’t talk about my parents anymore. It was a good end to a shitty day, at least until it was intruded upon.

Trent’s phone went off with some frat business, and he spent some time on the line dealing with whatever Omega’s newest drama was.

It reminded me of the four men there I hated and vowed to get revenge on.

The football game was set for next week, but I wasn’t sure that was going to be enough payback. I thought about all the ways T protected me and how much abuse, physically and verbally, he’d taken because of our relationship.

Maybe because I’d witnessed the verbal abuse firsthand today, I lay in bed beside him that night and couldn’t sleep.

I plotted instead.

And I came up with a plan.

So while Trent was sleeping soundly, I crept out of bed and grabbed the room key. Now was as good a time as any to put my plan in play.





Trent

Game day.

Have a little fun at some *’s expense day.

The pressure Omega was raining down to find the guys who jumped me was getting real. They put out word far and wide on campus and made it clear there would be serious retribution for whoever dared mess with the fraternity.

And the Wolves?

They were applying their own pressure because one of their own was jumped.

So not only were the four guys in Omega feeling the pressure and hearing the smack talk inside the house, but outside, too.

Just call me Trent, king of the head game.

They were squirming, almost jumpy. After today’s charity game, they would likely be hurting. After that?

I was thinking it might be time to let the house in on what they didn’t know.

As much as I liked to play with my prey, it was getting old. Seemed like there was a hell of a lot more important things to deal with.

Since arriving back home from the meetings with Gamble and the suck-fest with Drew’s parents, he’d been a little quiet. I figured he had a right to it. I mean, his parents literally threw him out of his childhood home.

A couple times, I’d woken in the middle of the night to find him missing. When I’d crept through the house, I’d found him downstairs on the couch with a laptop. Both times, he’d told me he couldn’t sleep and didn’t want to wake me with the light of the computer.

He hadn’t withdrawn from me. The very air between us still burned with friendship and intimacy, but still, I worried about him.

Last night, he stayed at the frat with me. We fell into a pattern of alternating whose place we stayed at. The obvious best choice was our house, where we didn’t have to sneak around, but I was still president of Omega for a few more weeks, and my presence around here needed to be known. For many reasons, including keeping an eye on Con and keeping him on the verge of pissing his pants all the time.

I was wearing Drew’s boxers (well, technically, they were mine now), and he was wearing a pair of mine (which were his now), and his body was pressed up tight against mine. He fit against me like a glove, or the perfect pair of football pads. I’d grown so used to sleeping with him beside me, the one night a few days ago we slept apart, I’d barely slept at all.

I was so surly the next day from lack of sleep and agitation from not getting to cop a morning feel, I’d nearly ratted out all four dickheads in this house and then stepped back to watch the house react.

I didn’t, though. I reined it in and thought about today.

But I did whisper some sweet nothings in Con’s ear all through breakfast.

Sweet nothings = veiled threats

After that night, I told Drew there was no way in hell we were sleeping apart again. My bossiness earned me a blowjob. That got rid of my shit mood real fast.

The football game was set to take place at the indoor field where the Wolves practiced and sometimes held scrimmages. It was smaller than the actual outdoor field, so it was never used for actual college games. We could have used it today, but we scheduled it under the dome just in case there happened to be some weather.

Since it didn’t start until later in the morning, I planned on spending some quality quiet time in bed with my guy.

You know what they say about best laid plans?

Me either.

Anyway, half the house was woken up when someone started acting like the doorbell was a freaking piano and pressing on it like he was Mozart.

I sat up in bed, Drew’s arm still draped over my waist and him still totally asleep (I swear the dude could sleep through a freaking alien invasion) and listened for a moment, trying to make sense of what the hell was happening.