It just wasn’t quite the truth.
Chapter Five
Nate woke up at five because he always woke up at five. Just because he was spending the week with one of the hottest men he’d ever met, that didn’t mean his body clock wasn’t still a dick.
Truth be told, though, he found he didn’t mind being awake. They’d both passed out last night, with Cooper holding him tight enough that Nate’s back had been slick with sweat despite the air-con blasting, but Nate had been so wiped out that after a few desultory shoves that had no effect, he’d fallen asleep in spite of the heat and closeness.
At some time during the night, they must have moved apart, because the doona had been thrown on the floor and Cooper was now sprawled on his back, an arm above his head and one knee crooked to the side. Since he was still fast asleep, Nate propped himself up on one elbow and took the opportunity to ogle him shamelessly.
He hadn’t had the chance before, because it seemed like every time they got naked they were both already desperate. Which. Nate liked sex. Loved it, even. But something about Cooper made himcraveit, in a way that was both foreign and thrilling.
Shit. Maybe he had a werewolf kink.
He grinned to himself. Perhaps that meant he could do the SCP again next year, or even, once his time with Cooper was done, put himself back in the selection pool and find another wolf for the rest of the month.
His stomach lurched without warning, and a sour taste flooded his mouth. He wrinkled his nose, wondering if he’d eaten a bad prawn, before dismissing the idea—he would have been a lot sicker a lot faster if that were the case.
He trailed a fingertip over Cooper’s firm chest, drawing trails in the dark hair sprinkled with silver, and something about the motion, combined with the heat of Cooper’s skin, soothed him and made the bad taste in his mouth dissipate.
Cooper was drop-dead gorgeous. His skin was flawless—becausewerewolvesdidn’t get scars when they fell off their bike and split their knees open in Year Three—and he was the perfect ratio of height to muscle. Nate wondered if he worked out, before remembering that werewolves didn’thaveto work out. The same genes that gave them the ability to control their shift could be employed to tweak their everyday appearance, which was why all werewolves were hotter than fuck.
Nate was the slightest bit jealous, if he were honest—he would have given anything at thirteen to be able to manipulate his teeth into a straight line instead of wearing braces for a year.
Coop had nice teeth. He hadgreatteeth.
He had great…everything.
Nate stroked Cooper’s skin, sliding his hand down towards his stomach and coming to rest on Cooper’s abs.
“Morning.” Cooper’s voice was rough with sleep, the added rasp making it even more intoxicating. His eyelids were half open, and he gave Nate a sleepy smile before he stretched, his muscles bunching under Nate’s hand. “You checking out the goods, baby?”
Nate gave a half-shrug. “Busted. But in my defence, you’re hot as fuck.”
Cooper let out a laugh. He half-rolled so he was facing Nate and reached out and ran a hand through his messy hair. “You’re a hell of a pretty sight to wake up to yourself.”
Just then, Cooper’s phone pinged and he rolled away and grabbed it, giving Nate a great view of his solid thighs and perfect, toned arse. Nate itched with the need to grab it.
Before he had a chance though, Cooper turned back holding his phone and looking far too pleased with himself.
“Good news?” Nate asked, settling himself back against the headboard.
“Just confirmation of today’s plans,” Cooper said, still grinning like the cat that got the cream.
“I didn’t know we had plans?”
“We do now.” Cooper paused in the act of standing, a crease furrowing his brow. “You own boardies, right? Never mind. If you don’t, we can pick a pair up.”
“No, I have a pair.” Nate got out of bed as well, curious now. “Why do I need boardies? Are we going to the beach?” He could get behind spending the day eyeing off Cooper in a Speedo.
“Yeah, baby. I thought we’d spend the day at Rottnest.”
Nate was sure his own broad smile mirrored Cooper’s. “Oh, fuck yeah! I haven’t been to Rotto since Year Seven School Camp. We had to leave early because we all got food poisoning—which, let me tell you, twenty puking kids doesnotmake for a fun ferry ride.”
Cooper laughed. “That sounds bloody awful.”
“It was. I think it’s why I haven’t gone back since. Teenage vomit ferry trauma is a hell of a thing to overcome.”
“Lucky we’re not taking the ferry, then. We’re flying.”
