Trent tapped him on his back when he walked past. “I’m going in the living room to play my game.”
Wood stood up and grabbed Trent by his bicep before he could get anywhere. “Hey,” he said softly, looking Trent up and down hungrily, “aren’t you forgetting something?”
Trent lowered his gaze and allowed Wood to pull him back toward him. His voice was husky when he asked, “What’s that?”
“It’s your turn to clean the kitchen.” Wood popped Trent on his ass and left him standing there panting with a frown on his face. “I cooked, so you got the dishes. Get mad at yourself—it’s your own rule.”
Chapter Sixteen
Trent
By the time Trent finished his chores and got the rest of the spaghetti put away, he found Wood already sitting in the living room with a sketch pad in his lap and a cup of colored pencils beside him, eating a box of those disgusting Hot Tamales. Trent sat on the couch with a fresh beer and turned on his PlayStation. Maybe if Summer was online they could play teams. He wasn’t even ten minutes into his game before he had to mess with Wood.
“How can you sit there and eat that nasty-ass candy, like some sixteen-year-old at an IT movie?” Trent chuckled at his own joke.
Wood wadded up a piece of paper and hit him in the center of his chest with it. “How can you sit there for hours and play that silly game, like some adolescent virgin with no social life?”
Trent grabbed a magazine off the table and tossed it at Wood’s legs. “Asshole.” It was sad that two out of those three things were true. “Just to let you know… these video consoles are state-of-the-art computers, with games that challenges strategy skills and quick decision-making. What would you recommend I play, Wood? Scrabble… Pokeno? Let me think what Milton Bradley’s first board game was.”
Trent was pelted with more crumpled balls of paper. “You’re gonna pick up this mess you’re making too.” Trent glanced in Wood’s direction after he fell silent and noticed him staring at him before he dropped his eyes and sketched on the paper with his black pencil. “What are you drawing?”
“You.”
Trent snapped his head up in surprise, unsure of what to say except, “Let me see.”
“No.”
“And you call me annoying.” Trent huffed.
“Aren’t we supposed to be getting to know each other?”
“We are.”
“Then shouldn’t we be having conversation?” Wood asked and popped some more candy in his mouth.
“Here.” Trent picked up his other controller and tossed it in Wood’s lap. “Let’s bond.”
Wood laughed. “What am I supposed to do with this? Throw it back at you… only harder?”
“Press the X and join in.” Trent kept thumbing at his controller as his guy got ambushed while he was distracted with Wood. “Now look what you did. You got me killed.”
“Trent, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. I haven’t moved, so if you died, then it was meant to be,” Wood said dryly. “It’s nine… turn that damn thing off and flip to the news.”
Trent looked at Wood as if he had two heads. “News?”
“Don’t you wanna know what’s going on in the world?”
“I’m doing my best not to.” Trent grinned. “I like this bubble I’m in right here.” With you.
Wood closed his notebook and tossed it on the coffee table, then got up and sat down way to close too him on the couch. And right on cue, Trent’s body responded to Wood’s powdery, masculine scent that seemed to never fade. He was still holding the controller tightly in his hands though the game had timed out and was over. This was the first time his body had such a responsive reaction to someone else, male or female.
“Trent,” Wood said, making him flinch when his breath ghosted across his cheek.
“Hmm,” he answered absently.
“The remote, please?”
Trent glanced around, confused. “Huh?”
“I want to change the television from this blue screen. Can I have the clicker, please?”
Remote, remote, where’s the damn remote?
Wood nudged him against his shoulder, then pressed a solid hand in the center of his chest and pushed until Trent was in a reclining position. His breath hitched when Wood leaned his upper body across his lap and snagged the remote off the end table. Damn, he was heavy and firm, and Trent found that he liked that… no, he loved it. He was breathing hard as he snatched one of the flimsy throw pillows from beside him and thrust it in his lap. He was sure that Wood noticed his predicament, but he didn’t say anything as he began flipping through the local channels.
Trent pretended to be interested in the boring news while he willed his erection to go down long enough for him to get up and retreat. He needed a release so badly, and if he didn’t get it, he couldn’t be held responsible for his actions. Did Wood have to sit so close that their thighs and shoulders were touching? Trent had one hand clutching the pillow and the other at his side, digging into the seat. He leaned his head back against the cushion and turned his face away, needing to breathe in something other than Wood’s scent. Fuck, he was hard and throbbing… maybe he should… Damnit. I’m acting like I’m the one of us that’s fresh out of prison.