Wood (A True Lover's Story #2) - A.E. Via Page 0,65

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.

“Not really. Only with video games.”

“So that was Summer, huh?”

Trent smiled down at Wood, and before he knew it, he’d driven his fingers into the soft, silvery strands of hair, unable to resist the touch any longer.

Wood rolled onto his back and gazed up at him through red eyes. “I like it when you do that.”

“It’s nice when you don’t have a ton of gel in it.”

Wood’s throaty laugh was music to his ears. “I don’t use gel. It’s styling mousse.”

“Oh, I see. Us regular guys use a two-in-one shampoo and hope the hair looks all right when it air-dries.”

“Yeah.” Wood sighed tiredly. “Your hair is perfect.”

Trent bit his bottom lip. Somehow the tone had shifted from casual to intimate. He stroked Wood’s head, tenderly scratching at his scalp as they both dozed on and off. Every now and then he’d catch Wood watching him through dreamy eyes, and a slow smile would spread across his face before he drifted again.

Next time Trent woke, it was still pitch-dark outside and the television had timed off. Three hours had passed, and Trent was still reclined as much as he could on the couch with Wood resting peacefully against his stomach. He didn’t want to move. He wouldn’t mind staying in that position all night, but he needed to take another muscle relaxer. Trent lay there for a moment staring up at