Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 107960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 107960 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 540(@200wpm)___ 432(@250wpm)___ 360(@300wpm)
“We won’t be bowling long, maybe a couple games. Bishop’s too good, it’s no fun playing with him anyway.” Trent sucked his teeth.
“It’s not supposed to be about winning or losing, brat. You’re supposed to be having some good-natured bonding time,” Wood said, having a difficult time keeping a straight face as he did. He took a new cloth out of the wrap and dredged it in the warm water he’d filled in the sink at his station. He added a few drops of green antibacterial soap to the liquid as he checked the healing tattoo for any excessive scabbing or infection.
“Well, someone needs to fuckin’ tell Mike and Bishop it’s just a good-natured game. Those two are insane. I just end up eating nachos and drinking beer while they pretend like they’re competing in the goddamn National Bowling League,” Trent grumbled, unable to hide his smile.
Wood knew Trent was glad he no longer avoided developing a closer relationship with Mike and Bishop and instead accepted the three of them for what they were… a family.
Trent bit his bottom lip, his gaze raking over Wood’s chest that was partly visible under his button-up. He raised his hand and reached inside, brushing his knuckles along the hair over his right pec, his calloused fingers grazing his nipple.
“Stop it,” Wood growled with little heat. He continued to wash Trent’s chest, trying to pay attention to his task. This wasn’t a service he provided all his clients, of course; this one was special. Everyone else was responsible for their own aftercare when they left the shop unless they noticed a warning sign.
“I want you to fuck me on the counter tonight,” Trent whispered as he stared down his body at his tattoo that glistened gorgeously when it was wet. “Hard.”
As usual when Trent was there, Wood battled to obey the rules, and not steal erotic moments behind his curtain. But his partner had him acting as if he was ten years younger than he was. He released a low moan, his dick pulsing in his jeans. “Watch your mouth.”
“Make me.” Trent smirked naughtily, trying to undo Wood’s shirt to the third button.
“Wood. I know which one I want,” Mike blurted, rudely yanking Wood’s divider to the side, effectively ruining their mood. “I like the Japanese lettering with this cherry blossom field. That’s bad as fuck, man.”
Wood turned and glared, but Mike’s eyes were glued to a page of one of Wood’s portfolios he kept in front of the shop for customers to browse. Even after all this time, his landscapes would forever be in demand. “I’ll take a look in a second. Let me finish.”
“Trent can wash his own goddamn chest. This ain’t a happy endings parlor, bighead,” Mike said loud enough to draw some of the other artists’ attention.
The tips of Trent’s ears turned a deep burgundy as the group made a few jokes, but Wood simply laughed it off, knowing it was only shop talk. Wood noticed Mike was acting more and more like a father-in-law when he came around. Annoying as hell.
He met Trent’s affectionate gaze as he gently rubbed a thin layer of Provon on his warm skin. Together their eyes drifted down to the dark green cholla cactus on Trent’s muscled pec with the brilliant violet blooms of flowers bursting from its many joints. It wasn’t the actual lone cactus—though amazing—and its precise detail of razor-sharp spines, but it was the lush green forest that surrounded it, as if protecting it, that was Wood’s favorite part. Trees that looked as bold and splendid as evergreens were splayed across his boyfriend’s creamy skin, depicting their relationship in the best way he knew how. And the second the needle had touched Trent’s skin, he didn’t flinch, his eyes full of trust as he’d watched Wood do what he was meant to do.
Wood had finished his job and was giving Trent a peck goodbye when he heard a loud bang at the front of the shop and his name being hollered. Shoot! He recognized that voice. His legs were moving without thinking, and before he could make it to the front of the house, Rayne slammed into his chest, his arms clamping around him like an octopus. His heart was beating so fast and hard Wood immediately picked up on his fear and secured him to his side as he scanned the shop window for whatever hounds were on Rayne’s ass.
“Wood,” Rayne gasped, his nails digging into his arms. “I wasn’t sure I’d find you.”
“Calm down. Calm down,” Wood said, all eyes on him as he ushered Rayne toward his station.
Trent
“Wood. I swear to god this guy better be some fuckin’ kin to you,” Trent said harshly, standing next to Mike, who had his hand gripped firmly on his shoulder.
“He’s a good friend of mine that I met at the halfway house,” Wood assured him, and Trent believed him. “Only a friend.”