Page 38 of Stay A Little Longer
Chapter Eleven
For the second morning in a row, Trent woke up in an uncomfortable bed, on a lumpy mattress, with stiff, scratchy sheets. This time, he knew exactly where he was. This time his head was turned facing the man who had his arm thrown around Trent’s waist. This time there was no ringing phone to distract him, nothing to pull his attention away from the gorgeous man asleep next to him.
Dark hair mussed. Thick lashes spread across his cheeks. Lips soft and swollen. His brows were furrowed, a small line forming just above his nose. He looked more like himself with that furrow, with that serious look, even in sleep. Like he was worrying about something, which he probably was, because his man was a worrier.
Trent rolled himself slowly so as not to wake his bedmate. He shifted onto his shoulder, tucking a hand under his head to prop himself up on an elbow. Lance tightened his grip on Trent’s waist, trying to pull him closer, but didn’t otherwise stir.
And Trent smiled.
His man. His worrier. His. Lance was his. He’d said so. Agreed. Wanted Trent just as badly as Trent wanted him.
And whatever this was, it was happening fast and it was crazy and out of control but Trent couldn’t stop it. He didn’t want to stop it. His heart yearned for this man, for what he offered when he didn’t even know he was offering it. Comfort and acceptance, support and desire and… possibilities.
Jesus, he was falling in love with the guy. Falling hard. Fast. And the impact when he hit rock bottom was going to be devastating.
Even though his mind said he should let the man sleep, his hand rose of its own accord. He couldn’t help it. Whenever he was near Lance, he needed to be touching him. He brushed Lance’s hair back softly, slowly trailed his fingers across his temple and down his cheek.
Lance made a noise, a low little noise, and snuggled closer. And if Trent had any doubt, any doubt at all that his heart beat for this man, he was certain right then and there. He wanted Lance to be his, for real.
Trent slid closer to him and nuzzled his lips against Lance’s stubbled jaw. Lance made that noise again and Trent pressed even closer. He loved that sound, loved that Lance made it for him, loved the way that even in sleep Lance tipped his chin up to give Trent more access to his skin.
He should let him sleep. He really should. But his lips had made contact with that warm, sensitive skin that he was completely addicted to. He kissed his way down that sharp jawline that had captivated his attention from minute one and Lance shifted against him.
“Mmm, Trent?” His voice was gruff, rough from sleep, and sexy as hell saying Trent’s name.
His lips curled, “Hmm?”
“This isn’t a dream, right?”
Trent’s heart thumped and he nodded without removing his lips from Lance’s throat. So damn sweet. He didn’t even know how sweet he was and that only made him sweeter.
It felt like a dream. This whole thing did. Like he’d wished so long for someone like Lance that he couldn’t possibly be real. Someone strong but soft in all the right places. Someone smart and funny. Someone that matched him on the smartass scale and kept him on his toes. Someone that wanted, needed the same things he did in and out of bed. Someone that would stand beside him and try to protect him, defend him when the wolves came calling. Lance was the dream.
“Not a dream.” His own voice was gruff.
“Mmm.” Lance shifted again, “I was dreaming about you.”
“Yeah?” He nipped Lance’s jaw and pulled back enough to finally look at him, look him in the eyes. His dark, hooded eyes. Pupils dilated and thick lashes fanning out. He was biting his bottom lip between his teeth and Trent automatically went for his mouth dragging his own teeth along the plump swell until he freed it from the confines. “What were you dreaming?”
“I uh…” Lance tilted his head to the side, “I need to brush my teeth. Morning breath.”
“I don’t give a shit about morning breath.” Trent held tight when his man tried to shift away from him, “Kiss me.”
“Tren…”
“Kiss. Me.” He growled the order and felt Lance shiver even as he saw those dark lashes flutter.
Lance lifted up and complied instantly. His lips pressed against Trent’s softly. Sweetly. Closed lipped. And it took everything that Trent had not to laugh.
Instead he pushed harder, pressed harder, rolling Lance to his back and looming over him, using his tongue to tease Lance into responding. To taste the seam of his lips until he gasped in a breath and then Trent stole inside, licking and sucking until they both lost control and were grabbing at each other, grinding together, moaning into each other’s panting mouths.
Trent broke the wild kiss with a growl, “I want you so fucking bad.”
“Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” Lance chanted as if Trent might not hear him the first time.
“You sure? Be sure, Lance.” He met those mesmerizing dark eyes and held his gaze, wanting to be certain they were on the same page, “Because if I fuck you now, you’re mine.”
Lance licked his lips, “I’m already yours.”
