The Beauty of Us (Fusion #4)

“Who the fuck is that?” Landon demands.

“It’s Trevor,” I reply in frustration. “Stop interrupting.”

“Why are you with Landon?” Trevor asks.

“Because he’s driving us to my house,” I reply. “Don’t worry, Landon and I haven’t ever had sex. Yet.”

Cami snorts in the backseat and Landon glares at me, but I just think it’s hilarious.

“He’s taking you to your house?” Trevor asks.

“Yep.”

“Oh God, I might have to throw up,” Cami says.

“Sorry, I gotta go.” I hang up the phone and turn in my seat to look at Cami. “You should have ridden up here! I told you that you get motion sick in the back.”

“It’s pretty back here,” she says, and holds her stomach. “But I don’t feel so good.”

“Hold on, baby,” Landon says, watching her in the rearview mirror. “We’re almost there, and then you can get in the front.”

“Okay.”

Just a few minutes later, we pull into my driveway.

And Trevor is waiting for us.

“Wow, he got here fast,” I say with a frown. “Wait, did I invite him over?”

“Who is this guy?” Landon asks.

“The TV guy,” Cami reminds him just as Trevor reaches my door, opens it, and reaches in to pull me out.

“Hi,” I say with a grin, but when I look up into his face, he just looks . . . mad. “What did I do?”

“You tell me,” he says. Landon has circled the car and comes to stand with us.

“Landon, this is Trevor.” I introduce them. “I’ve known Landon for a long time.”

Something’s wrong. Trevor is tense, his jaw tight, his hands clenched.

And he’s not touching me at all.

I don’t like that.

“Landon,” Cami says as she gets out of the backseat. “Let’s go. You promised me drunk sex, remember?”

“Cami?” Trevor says, surprised. “You’re with Cami?”

“Of course,” I say. “I was with all of the girls. Landon is taking us home.”

“I get to have sex with him,” Cami says with a smile as Landon wraps her in his arms. “Because I married him.”

Landon whispers something to Cami and she nods. “She’s fine. Trevor’s nice.”

“Okay.” Landon pats me on the shoulder. “Call if you need anything.”

“Go get your drunk sex,” I say, and wave them off. Trevor walks me to my door.

“I didn’t realize he was Cami’s husband,” Trevor says.

“Well, you should use your super Jedi mind tricks to figure it out, big boy.” I snort-laugh as I unlock the door. “It’s pretty fun that you like all the geeky stuff.”

“It is?”

“Yeah.” I nod and turn to him. “Are you going to kiss me good night again?”

His lips twitch as he watches me with those amazing green eyes and I lean into him.

And then the porch begins to spin.

“Whoa.”

“Easy there, drunk girl.” He lifts me effortlessly into his arms and carries me inside. “Where’s your bedroom?”

I point to the back of the house and lay my head on his shoulder. “You smell good.”

He kisses my head, and I feel so safe. So pampered. I can’t remember the last time a guy picked me up.

I don’t know if I’ve ever dated a guy strong enough to pick me up and carry me.

That’s kind of sad.

I’ve dated pussies.

I smirk and press my face to his neck.

“What’s so funny?”

“I shouldn’t tell you. I’m drunk.”

“Maybe you should tell me while you’re drunk.”

I lean back so I can look at his face, blinking slowly. “I don’t know what to do about you. And I love it that you’re strong enough to carry me.”

“I guess I should continue to hit the gym, then, huh?”

I grin and tuck my face back into his neck and breathe him in. He sits on my bed, still cradling me close.

Being held is fucking amazing.

“Spinning,” I whisper.

“Can you stay awake long enough for me to change your clothes?”

“Mm.”

And then I’m out, immediately dreaming about a naked Trevor, stripping me out of my clothes and kissing me. Holding me.

Loving me.



I stretch under my soft sheets and frown. I feel fucking horrible.

Ugh.

I’m never drinking again.

I used to be able to drink all night and work all day, no hangover in sight. But now that I’m thirty, well, that’s a thing of the distant past.

I brush my hair off my face and realize that I’m wearing a T-shirt that doesn’t belong to me.

I don’t wear anything to bed.

Why am I wearing something in bed?

I sit straight up and look down. Nope, not my shirt.

Fuck me.

I grab my phone and call Cami. She answers, but I can tell I woke her.

I don’t fucking care.

“What did you let me do?” I ask with a loud whisper.

“Huh?”

I hear rustling in my kitchen.

“I think someone is in my house,” I say, my heart rate up and panic starting to set in. “Who the fuck is in my house, Cami? How could you let me bring someone home? I mean, we didn’t have sex because I’m not sore. If we did have sex, he has the tiniest dick in the history of dicks, and if I had sex with that, I’ll never admit it. You can’t tell anyone.”

“Jesus, stop rambling,” she says just as my bedroom door opens and I drop the phone with a scream, then stare at Trevor.

A shirtless, rumpled, sleepy Trevor who’s holding a serving tray.

I have a serving tray?

“Riley?” Cami is calling through the phone. I pick it up, my eyes still clinging to his.

“Sorry. It’s Trevor. Go back to sleep.”

I hang up and pull the covers up to my chin as Trevor sets the tray on the nightstand and sits next to me, tucking my hair behind my ear.

“Good morning,” he says with a sexy smile. My eyes keep drifting down to his smooth skin and sculpted muscles.

“Morning,” I reply with a whisper. “I had no idea you looked like that under your clothes.”

He smirks and my eyes find his again.

“I had no idea you had that ink under your clothes,” he replies, and I feel my eyes go wide. “We’ll have to talk about that sometime.”

“How did you see my ink? Did we—”

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “I don’t have the smallest dick in the history of dicks.”

“Oh, good.”

He laughs and holds a glass of something gross in front of me.

“No thanks.”

“Drink it,” he insists. “It’ll help with the hangover.”

“I’m not hungover.”

He takes my chin in his fingers and raises my gaze to his. “No lying. Ever. Tell me what I don’t want to hear, but don’t lie to me.”

“Okay, I don’t want that shit, I want coffee.”

He nods toward the tray.

“I brought some of that too, but drink this first. It really does help.”

“How did I get this T-shirt on?” I ask as I take the glass and eye it dubiously. It’s green. And there are chunks in it. I take a sip and scowl.

“Drink it fast,” he says with a grin.

“You’re enjoying this.”

“Immensely.”

I gulp half the glass down, then shove it back at him. “Enough. Hand over the coffee.”

“Good girl,” he says, and passes me a steaming cup of coffee, black.

Just the way I like it.

“I put my shirt on you last night. I don’t know where you keep your things, and you couldn’t sleep in your clothes.”