Wood (A True Lover's Story #2) - A.E. Via Page 0,23

of sausage by himself while Wood’s stomach was growling loud enough for him to hear. “A small amount, but don’t think I’m going to be your cook. If you don’t know how, then I suggest you watch a Food Network show or something.”

“I can cook.” Wood smiled down on him, and Trent narrowed his eyes so he didn’t get lost in the expression. “At least I think I still can, anyway. Some things you just never forget how to do no matter how long it’s been… am I right, Trent?”

Wood’s voice was loaded with suggestion, and Trent knew he should’ve called him on it… but for some reason… he didn’t. Trent poked at their dinner with his tongs when he realized he was still staring at Wood’s chest. He had silken straight, light gray—but mostly black—hairs lying slick across his broad pecs. The hair trailed down his muscled torso and into his loose pants that were riding so low Trent could see the edging of Wood’s dark pubic hairs. Trent felt his pulse skyrocket the lower his gaze went. There was just so much to see. Wood’s entire body, his arms, his stomach, his entire fucking chest was an array of bright blooming flowers and nature.

“You got any tattoos?” Wood asked, as he simply stood there and took the eye-fucking Trent knew he was giving him. But it was so hard for him not to stare. What had Wood expected him to do?

“No. I never understood people who get one or two tattoos and then feel they have to turn their entire body into a work of art.” Trent groaned, thinking that hadn’t come out right. His jab had sounded more like a compliment.

“Is that what you see when you look at me? A work of art?” Wood asked, his voice gliding deliciously over Trent’s body the same way the pellets of water were dripping down Wood’s throat.

“What’s to go with the sausage, or are we just eating straight meat like carnivores?” Wood glanced around. “No sides?”

Trent banged the tongs on the edge of the frying pan. “If you want a three-course meal, then fix it yourself.”

“Sure.” Wood licked his smooth lips. “Maybe I will. You want me to cook for you, Trent?”

“Whatever.” Trent turned away to hide his smile, trying to pull off the nonchalance he didn’t feel. Wood was clearly flirting, and so far Trent had yet to admit he liked it… or disliked it. And the more he showed out, the further his roommate amped it up. While Wood was busy looking at his phone, Trent decided to let his eyes roam because the fight not to was giving him another headache.

“That one was my first,” Wood said suddenly, and Trent flinched, feeling his face heat to an inferno. “It’s a lily that I kept adding to. As a tattoo it means you’ll have fortune on the job and good luck amongst friends.”

Trent’s gaze landed on Wood’s mouth, surprised he’d said something that poetic.

“It was beautiful and addicting that, like you said, I kept adding more and more.” Wood rubbed his big hand over his stomach, staring down at his own body. He pointed to the lily and began to trace the delicate-looking green-and-blue petals. “I added the amaryllis next because they are so close to the lily, then the azaleas continue down my pelvis and over my hip.” Wood’s voice was borderline melodious. His rich bass almost had Trent hypnotized. Wood was tugging one side of his pants lower, showing off those gorgeous flowers that Trent knew very well. He’d been landscaping since he was a teenager because he’d always appreciated the beauty that a flower could bring to almost anything.

Trent was damn near gnawing on his bottom lip as he waited for Wood to push his pants down just a smidge lower and he’d be able to see—

“Evening!” Bishop yelled as he came through the door without so much as a tap first.

Trent jerked violently and hurried to turn back to the stove. “Fuck,” he gritted out as he fanned the smoke and flipped his charred sausage.

“Uh-oh,” Wood mumbled for only him to hear. “Our dinner’s burning.”

Wood

Now that was the most fun Wood’d had in a while. Trent’s reaction to his outdated flirting was priceless. Not to mention it mended some of his shattered ego as Trent practically drooled over his chest.

“Trent, what are you burning in here?” Bishop asked, hanging his coat on the hook.

“Nothing,” Trent said, not bothering to make eye contact with