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Wood stepped inside the bathroom and wrapped his arms around him from behind. He placed his lips against his decorated shoulder and murmured, “It wasn’t that hard. I’ve been drawing flowers since I was able to hold a crayon.”
“No, I mean, how did you do this without me knowing?” Trent asked as he traced the red petals of the camellias.
“You were sleeping really good, and the markers I have are felt-tip for painting.” Wood pushed his erection against Trent’s ass, watching him closely in the mirror. “You know by now that my stroke is gentle.”
Trent smirked. “That I do.”
“So you like it?”
Trent stared at his shoulder that looked so much like the beautiful garden across Wood’s back. He turned around and clasped his hands around Wood’s neck and pulled him down to his mouth. “I love it. It’s beautiful. Why camellias?”
Wood touched his mouth gently with his warm lips. “You know the flower?”
“Of course I do. You keep forgetting I’m a landscaper also. But I don’t really know what they mean, just what shrubbery they look good with in a yard.” Trent was hoping that Wood had chosen these flowers for a more intimate reason.
Wood cupped the back of his neck and intensified their connection. Trent stepped forward, pushing them against the door and molding the front of his body to Wood’s thick chest. If he thought things were going to be weird between them after last night, he was delightfully wrong. Things weren’t strange, but they were different, everything was more amplified. Trent’s senses felt as if they’d been shot with an enhancement booster. His skin rippled everywhere he was touched, and his shoulder ignited when Wood faintly traced over the design with his fingertips. Wood’s powdery musk flooded his nostrils with each inhale, and Trent gasped to catch his breath.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve felt such a powerful urge to put my art on someone, Trent. I chose that flower—” Wood sucked on Trent’s tongue. “—and the color red for a specific reason.”
He didn’t know. Trent didn’t try to keep in the sounds that involuntarily escaped as Wood dropped his big hands to his ass and squeezed. He felt good, and he was hoping Wood might be up for another round. It was Saturday, and they had nowhere to be and nothing to do but each other.
“It’s because of the desire and passion I feel when I’m around you.” Wood groaned, rocking into him. “It’s one of my favorite flowers, Trent, and I haven’t wanted to put them on any man in a very long time.”
“Hersch,” Trent sighed, throwing his head back as Wood licked at the numerous bite marks that were left on his throat.
“I never liked anyone saying my first name, Trent,” Wood said softly, his brow creasing slightly as he stared at him with something close to wonder.
Trent shook his head. “I um. I didn’t even realize I’d said it.”
Wood dove down and covered his mouth with his, his tongue luring Trent into another daze. Damn the man knew how to kiss. Trent hung on, wanting to go for another ride.
“You ready for more so soon?” Wood asked, sliding a couple of fingers against his hole.
He was sensitive, not sore, and yes, he was ready. Wood pushed the front of his lounge pants down and fisted their firm cocks. They both moaned and grunted against each other, sounding like a horrible bass duet, but unable to be quiet.
Wood had to bend his knees to put them at the perfect height to get them off together. Trent thrust his hips forward while holding on to the back of Wood’s neck. He clenched his ass as the start of his orgasm came on quickly.
“You must be trying to get me hooked on this.” Wood panted against his temple.
Trent opened his mouth to say yes, that he wanted Wood addicted to nothing but him, when a loud banging at the front door brought it all to a screeching halt. Wood growled as he slowly stopped his stroking. The pounding got harder and faster until Trent thought the person would break the damn door down.
“Why the hell does this place turn into Grand Central Station whenever I get my hands on you?” Wood asked, yanking his pants up.
“Beats the hell outta me.” Trent sighed. “You got on more clothes then I do. You go kill whoever’s knocking on the door like that, and I’ll get dressed.”
“Don’t put on too many clothes,” Wood said on his way down the hall. “They’re coming right back off.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Wood
The knocking started again, and Wood hurried and unlocked the door and jerked it open as a blast of cold air hit him in the center of his chest.
“It’s about damn time,” Mike fussed and barged past Wood carrying a large, red toolbox in his hand. “I know it’s Saturday and all, but sleeping after two is just plain laziness.”
