“No,” he caught my hand. “Stay here.”
Guess I wasn’t the only one who didn’t want to let him out of my sight tonight.
I palmed the first aid kit and rummaged around, finding one last cold pack. I held it up like it was a trophy before rolling it around between my hands and bursting open whatever it was inside that made it cold.
Once it was applied to the black-and-blue part of his side, I left the bed again to change out of my jeans and into a pair of gym shorts.
I wasn’t shy about it either. In fact, I felt his eyes when I fished around for shorts, so I tossed them on the bed and began unbuckling my jeans, almost like I was giving him a show.
Okay, not almost. I was.
I wanted to tempt him. I wanted to torture him a little. Make him see what he was trying to give up.
My thumbs hooked into the waistband, and I pushed down the material. I had to give it an extra tug to get them past my junk, which was still rock hard from him straddling my hips.
Even across the room, I felt the smolder in his gaze. His eyes locked on the most evident part of my desire and held.
Anyone who said cocks didn’t have a mind of their own were liars. Sure, most of the time, they only thought about sex and pleasure, but never as much as when the person who won their loyalty was within reach.
Yeah, loyalty.
My dick was a loyal fellow.
No, you may not call him Lassie.
I was positive, even after tonight, tomorrow my body would only respond to Trent. It was only him I would want.
Realizing that was overwhelming. It was jarring.
In the beginning, it was confusing.
Confusion came from conflict. From not knowing what you wanted. From being unable to admit what you wanted.
I might not have been ready to tell my father about the person my heart chose to claim. I might not have even been ready to tell anyone outside this house, but it didn’t make what I was feeling any less true.
Any less real.
I wasn’t confused anymore because I knew.
Trent was absolute.
Hell, my dick was at attention and my boxers looked like a tent as it pointed to him. The jeans hit the floor when I let go, and I glanced at the shorts on the end of the bed.
Just tonight.
Isn’t that what we said?
I wanted so badly to ditch the boxers and slip beneath the sheets completely naked, but I didn’t. It wasn’t because I thought Trent wouldn’t like it (he was a guy; of course he would like it), but because he was hurting and now wasn’t the time for messing around.
Even if all he was determined to give us was one more night.
I reached for the shorts, suddenly feeling incredibly grumpy.
“Can you hit the light? My fucking head hurts,” Trent remarked.
I dropped the clothes and crossed to the light switch. The room went into shadows but wasn’t completely dark because the lamp on my side of the bed was still on. I reached for it, too.
“Leave that one.” He stopped me.
I frowned. “You still got a couple hours before I can give you more pain reliever. Maybe the dark—”
“I want to see you,” he said in a rushed, quiet tone.
I didn’t acknowledge the admission with words, but everything inside me quaked. I’d been with lots of women in my life. Getting one in bed was never a problem for me. I drove fast, had dimples and blue eyes… Plus, I was good in bed.
I wasn’t being arrogant. Okay, maybe I was.
Even so, it was the truth.
So obviously, I’d had some good sex. My body understood what pleasure felt like.
But never before had I ever felt such a physical reaction to a person. No woman ever made my insides dip and tumble. No woman ever made my fingers shake and my breathing unsteady.
And it wasn’t just when we were in bed.
All it took was the sound of his voice. A look. A single gesture.
Trent possessed some kind of ability to turn me inside out with the greatest of ease.
That’s how I felt just then. Turned inside out. Shaken, not stirred. All because he wanted to look at me.
It was borderline insane.
But it was the best goddamned feeling I’d ever known.
“Careful.” I spoke quietly and gripped the blankets to peel them down the bed. His legs were over them, and I had to slide them from beneath his body. When his hips thrust upward making room for the blankets to move, my sight zeroed in on the rock-solid bulge beneath his tight red boxer briefs.
The way the fabric molded to his shaft, I could see the slightly larger head on the tip, and it made my mouth run dry.
I cleared my throat and forced my eyes away, back up to his face. He wasn’t watching me, but trying to disguise a grimace as he settled back against the mattress. A few curse words dropped into the air between us. I jetted forward and slid my arm and some of my shoulder beneath him. Almost instantly, he relaxed against me, allowing me to support all his considerable weight.
It was a weight I would bear willingly.
I’d bear it forever if he let me.