Wood: A True Lover's Story

“Hey.” Trent chewed on his lip. “You need my help?”

Wood shook his head, and Trent began to back away when he reached out and caught his bicep. “You don’t have to jump up every time you hear me. I’m all right,” Wood tried to reassure him, but Trent looked as if he was insulting him.

“I was actually heading towards my room when you opened the door, so…”

“Mmhmm,” Wood hummed, letting Trent know he didn’t believe him, and he smiled when he rolled those soft, brown eyes.

“I heated up some more soup. You should probably try to eat now.”

“Thanks. I’ll be out in a second,” Wood answered, but neither of them moved. Trent’s eyes were on his wet chest, his gaze hungry and his nostrils flaring. Wood liked that the closer they stood, the farther Trent had to tilt his head back to hold their eye contact. He stood there panting against Wood’s damp skin, making it extremely difficult for him not to beg Trent to take him to bed and make him forget everything messed up in this world.

Chapter Thirty

Trent

Trent sat in the living room playing his video game while he gave Wood as much time as he needed in his bedroom. He didn’t want to hover, and Wood seemed to be moving around a little better. When he heard him coming down the hall, Trent didn’t jump up and rush to his side this time; he let Wood trudge into the kitchen and sit down at the table where he’d already heated up a large bowl of chicken-and-wild-rice soup for him. Trent was damn near holding his breath until he heard the spoon clanging the bottom of the bowl.

“What’s this? I don’t drink these,” Wood rumbled, his voice sounding stronger. “They taste disgusting, and they’re full of sugar.”

“Seriously.” Trent closed his eyes and smiled in relief. He liked grumpy, complaining Wood. “Just drink it. Gatorade will give you the electrolytes you lost.”

“Thanks, doc,” Wood mumbled.

Trent ignored the few “ewws” and “ughs” that came from the dining room and continued with his game. He was still pretty beat, and his body ached from the hours spent on the hard floor. When Wood got up and left the kitchen, Trent was tempted to chase behind him and ask him what he was doing? Where he was going? How he was feeling? What the hell happened the other night? And finally… was he really leaving Virginia Beach? All that angry talk was just the liquor. Had to be. Besides, Wood couldn’t just run away—he was on parole. It would take weeks, maybe even months, to get approved for a jurisdiction transfer.

“Are you still playing, or are you fucking daydreaming? Shoot them! I’m getting my ass kicked!” Summer yelled through his gaming headset.

“Oh shit, sorry,” he said and refocused on their mission.

“What are you doing! Come on!”

Trent rolled his eyes as his thumbs beat the hell out of his controller in an attempt to get away from the ambush. “Will you calm down, I got this.”

After they were free and clear, he and Summer proceeded to play. He kept his voice down, despite her outrageous shrills anytime he messed up, not sure if Wood had decided to lie back down after his dinner. He’d been focused on the hunt in his game when Wood came around the corner with his comforter wrapped around him as if he was freezing. Trent couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped when Wood slogged over and dropped down on the couch and stretched out, placing his head in Trent’s lap.

“Have you turned into a forty-six-year-old baby on me?”

“Shut up, brat. I’m cold and you have good body heat.” Wood snagged the throw pillow, shoved it under his head, and snuggled in closer to Trent’s stomach.

He was grateful Wood put the pillow where he did because he didn’t want to accidentally give him an ear canal probe. Trent was already feeling his cock swell, and he spread his legs a bit wider to give his balls some room to throb. Wood smelled so damn good, like the scent he was used to. Trent inhaled deeply, which was a mistake, because the more his senses became flooded with Wood, the more incoherent he became. Wood had turned toward him, his solid, heavy body pressing wonderfully against his thighs.

“Trent! Pay attention!” Summer barked.

“Summer, I gotta go,” Trent breathed, having forgotten he was online.

“What? You’re bailing in the middle of a mission? Ugh, you loser.” He could hear Summer scrambling with her headset. “Leave the troops to me, then. I’ll save them all myself.”

Trent ignored her and took off his headset and tossed it on the table. He signed off Call of Duty and turned the cable on, not caring what channel it was set to.

“She sounds insane,” Wood mumbled, his hot breath seeping through the thin material of his shirt.