Page 13 of Defensive Zone (Chicago Thunder #3)

Chapter Twelve

Carter

Zach was released from the hospital five days later. They operated on his wrist, and since he’s been home, he’s been struggling with migraines. The kind of migraines that have wiped him out for three days so far. I’ve tried to leave him alone so he can get some sleep, only waking him when it was time to take his medication and to make him drink some water to avoid dehydration, but other than that, he’s been asleep.

I’ve taken it upon myself to sleep in his bed every night too, or sometimes I simply lie there with him. Running my fingers through his hair and watching him rest.

And maybe it makes me a creeper, but I love having the chance to really look at him. To really appreciate the handsome lines of his face. His sharp jaw that’s now lined with several days’ growth. It’s thick and dark, and I was pleasantly surprised at how soft it was when I ran my fingers over it. His long, dark lashes cast half-moon shadows under his eyes.

And his lips? Damn, how have I never noticed how kissable they are? Soft and pink but framed by his beard, making me imagine how it would feel to kiss him. To feel them graze my skin. His bottom lip is slightly bigger than the top, and my mind’s wandered on how he would react if I sucked on it.

The thought made me hard as a rock, then I felt like an asshole for getting a boner over my best friend, especially when he’s fast asleep and injured.

The last few days have given me a lot of time to think, and for the first time in my life, I’m a little scared. Not scared about being with Zach in a romantic sense—or being with a man in general for the first time—but whether he will reject the idea.

Yeah, he told me he’s in love with me, but if given the chance, would he want to see where things could go with us?

It’s not like we’ll need to go through the whole getting to know each other phase, but we would be learning to navigate an area that was previously grayed out.

And then there’s sex.

I’ve loved the times I’ve been pegged by the women I’ve dated, but I know I can’t compare that to having sex with a man. There were also the times I’ve watched porn with two guys and a chick. I often thought it was hot if the guys touched each other, but I put it down to being horny, and now I’m wondering… How could I have been so oblivious all this time?

He doesn’t remember the conversation we had when I first arrived here in Chicago. He doesn’t remember when I arrived either, but it’s like his confession has given me a lightbulb moment, placing all the pieces that have felt scattered for so long together, but I also don’t want to get too ahead of myself.

When it’s time for his meds and mandatory glass of water, I peek my head through the door, and I’m surprised to see him sitting up against the headboard. His hair has come out of his bun—a bun that I managed to do haphazardly while he was delirious—and the dark strands are sticking up all over the place.

“Hey,” I say quietly and step inside.

The room is dark due to his blackout curtains, but there’s a small, colored night-light that he’s switched on, offering a warm glow that’s not as harsh as his bedside lamp. I’m unable to tear my eyes away from the soft shadows it casts onto his bare chest.

“Hey.” He smiles, rubbing his face. “What time is it?”

“Just after two in the afternoon.” I round his bed and place the tablets into his good hand. He throws them into his mouth before I hand over a glass of water. He finishes it in a few easy gulps and passes the empty glass back. “How’s your head feeling?”

“Okay, I think? Or at least it’s okay for now.”

“That’s good, hopefully it’ll stay that way. It’ll be good if you can have a few hours out of bed.” I walk around to the other side of the bed and climb on to sit next to him. He shuffles down and rests his head against my shoulder, and I instantly wrap my arm around him, kissing the top of his head.

“Dude, you need a shower.” I grimace.

He snickers. “I know. I smell so bad.”

“Why don’t you take one while your head isn’t hurting? It might help.”

“I don’t know if I can stand up for that long without getting dizzy.”

“I’ll help?”

He tilts his head up to face me. “Really?”

“Yeah, of course I will.” I flick his nipple. “I’ll do anything for you, you know that.”

I jolt when he pinches the soft skin above my hip.

“Fucker,” I curse, causing him to laugh. “Okay, come on. Let’s get you in the shower.”

I stand up and move back to his side of the bed. We take it slow and steady, making sure he doesn’t rush standing up and risk giving himself another headache. He pushes up with his good hand, but once he’s on his feet, he sways slightly. I instantly reach out to grip his biceps, holding him steady as a wave of dizziness takes over.

“I’m fine,” he says, but I ignore him and wrap my arm around his waist for support as we head into his en suite bathroom.

He sits down on the closed toilet seat, and I reach inside the shower, flicking on the water to warm up. Shit, he’s going to need something to sit on. I’m a strong guy, but I’m not sure I’ll be able to help him wash if I have to prop up his two hundred and fifty-pound weight.

“Wait here,” I say, pointing my finger at him. “Don’t move.”

“Don’t worry, I won’t be going anywhere fast.” He closes his eyes, his head tipping back to rest against the tiled wall behind him.

I chuckle, glad he still has some sense of humor, and go into the kitchen to find something for him to sit on. All his chairs and stools are fabric, so they won’t work. Peering my head around the door to his game room, I spot a small, plastic stool that has some books stacked on top. That should do the trick.

Moving the books to his gaming desk, I pick up the stool and carry it back into the bathroom. His eyes open at the sound of me reentering, and those dark brows furrow in confusion when he notices the stool in my hands.

“What are you doing with that?”

“You’re gonna sit on it in the shower.”

“But I’ll ruin it.”

“Then I’ll buy you a new one,” I argue.

I place it inside the shower, then take off all my clothes until I’m only in my boxer briefs before stepping into the shower to find the right position for the stool. Once I’ve got it in the right spot, I grab the towel off the hook, pat myself dry, and walk over to him. “Right, up you go.”

Holding out my hands to steady him, he grabs hold of one arm, hoisting himself up. His eyes go a bit weird as he has another dizzy spell, then he seems to come to.

“What about my cast? I can’t get it wet.”

“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve had some time on my hands while you’ve been in dreamland because I went down an internet rabbit hole and found a waterproof cast cover.” I jerk my chin to where the cover is sitting on the counter.

“Of course you did.” He huffs a laugh, then holds on to my shoulder as I slip the plastic sleeve on his arm.

We take slow, steady steps toward the shower, and once we’re at the door, I realize he’s still got his pajama pants on. “Shit. Okay, put your hand on the wall for a sec. I gotta take off your pants.”

“You could at least buy me a drink first.”

I laugh, shaking my head. “Quit fooling around and get naked, Reid.”

Placing his good hand on my shoulder for balance, I hook my fingers into the waistband of his plaid sleep pants and pull them down. I crouch, trying not to let my eyes linger on his soft cock hanging heavy between his thighs.

Has he ever touched himself while thinking about me? Was I on his mind while he fucked someone else?

My cock jerks in my boxers, and I curse internally. Now is not the time to be getting hard.

Carefully lifting each foot so he doesn’t lose his balance, I toss his pants to the side before glancing up, meeting his gaze. He’s looking down at me under hooded eyes.

The angle provides an incredible view of his physique. Thick, muscular thighs covered in colorful tattoos and dark hair. His abs so defined, I’m tempted to trace the grooves with my fingertips to see if they are as deep as they look.

“Carter?”

My head snaps up at the sound of his voice. Shit. I completely got lost in my head.

“Ready?” I ask, standing up.

Guiding him into the shower, I motion for him to take a seat on the stool and adjust the showerhead to get the right angle. Squirting some shampoo in my hand, I wash his hair first, scrubbing at his scalp. He hums, leaning into my touch as I give it a second wash. After, I take the shower gel and lather it up in my palms and begin moving my hands over his shoulders and back in circular motions.

He hums again, dipping his head so his dark hair creates a curtain around his face as it dampens.

“Tell me if you get dizzy, okay? I know sometimes the heat can make you lightheaded.”

He doesn’t answer, but he nods softly.

I move around to his front, gliding my hands over his sculpted chest, over his biceps, and under his arms. When I reach his stomach, I kneel between his parted legs, squirting more shower gel into my hands. My boxers are soaked right through. There’s no doubt he can see the outline of my half-hard cock, but when I look up at his face, his eyes are closed. He looks exhausted. Like the last few days have really taken their toll on him.

I run my hands along his thighs, admiring the colorful tattoos lining his strong legs as they peek through the bubbles.

“Can I have some body wash?” he asks quietly, his voice barely audible over the spray of the shower.

“Yeah.”

I pick up the bottle from where I tossed it on the shower floor and pour some into his hand. I’m unable to do anything but sit back on my haunches and watch as he washes between his legs, his fingers and palm coasting over his soft cock and balls and as far back as he can reach.

My cheeks heat. Showering together is strangely… intimate, but in a tender way. I’m glad I’m the one helping him. Being here for him through all of this because the thought of someone else doing it makes me insanely jealous.

I’ve been a terrible friend over the years. Completely oblivious to his feelings and my own, really, but I’m going to make it right.

I would do anything for Zach Reid, but I haven’t realized why until recently.

I’ve been in love with him all this time. I just wasn’t ready to acknowledge it.

Reaching up, I comb my fingers through his hair, tucking the wet strands behind his ears, his shuddering breath coasting over the inside of my wrists. He chews on his bottom lip, watching me so intently with those icy blue eyes. The need to kiss him is visceral. Every fiber of my being wants to lean up and take his mouth with mine. To let him know that this is us.

It will always be us .

“Carter…”

It’s those two whispered syllables falling from his lips that make me move.

With my hands resting on his knees, I lean up and press my lips to his. They’re soft and wet, and kissing him is even better than I imagined it to be. A couple of seconds go by where he doesn’t move, but then he lifts his left hand and cups the side of my face before sinking into the kiss.

There’s nothing frantic about it. It’s tender, slow. Like we’re savoring the feel of our mouths fitting together so fucking perfectly.

I tentatively swipe my tongue across the seam of his lips, not wanting to be pushy and go faster than what he’s comfortable with, but I’m desperate to taste him.

A low whimper escapes me as he welcomes my tongue, and my cock throbs when his tongue meets mine. My body is tingling like a live wire, only intensifying with the gentle scrape of his beard against my skin, sending shivers from my head all the way down to my toes.

I’m kissing my best friend.

Should I be freaking out over this? I’ve never kissed a man before, and I’m aware I’m having some kind of monumental sexual awakening moment while my tongue is in my best friend’s mouth, but all I keep thinking is… How can a kiss feel so right?

All of my previous relationships seem so miniscule now, because nothing, nothing , could compare to how fucking perfect this is.

How perfect Zach is.

We lose ourselves in each other, tasting and exploring each other’s mouths. When the water begins to cool, he slowly pulls away just a fraction. I open my eyes, and my heart swells in my chest at the blissed-out expression on his face. Knowing I put it there.

“What was that for?” he asks.

“I wanted to. It’s something we should’ve been doing all along.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows roughly. There’s apprehension in his eyes, which I understand. I know I’m going to have some explaining to do. But I’ll show him that, if he wants this, I’m all in.

“Really?”

I nod, then a full-body shiver rakes through me as the water turns cold.

“Wanna get out of here and do some more of that on the couch?”