Page 30 of Pretty Poison
Wake up? Baby?Who the fuck—
Asher!
Rocky jerked awake and became aware of two things simultaneously: during the night, he’d draped his body over Asher’s, and the raging inferno he’d dreamt was actually his husband’s body heat. Then his other senses stirred, such as his cell phone ringing in the living room, the musky scent of sweaty men stuck together, and Asher’s morning wood pressed against him.
“I can only take so much, Ford,” Asher said, his voice rough with sleep and raw with need.
“Sorry,” Rocky said, not bothering to lift his head off Asher’s chest. “I’m going.”
Asher wrapped both arms around Rocky and held him tighter. “You don’t really want to go.” Asher kissed his temple and stroked his hand down Rocky’s spine. “I don’t want you to go either.”
Panic should’ve flooded through Rocky’s nervous system, restricting his lungs and making it hard for him to breathe. Alarm wasn’t one of the many emotions surging through him, though. The fatigue weighing down his limbs didn’t require an exploratory committee. Lust coiled in his belly, responding to Asher’s arousal. What worried him the most was the contentment he felt deep down in his soul. Rocky broke free of Asher’s hold and rolled off him to lie on his back. He stared at the ceiling as his phone finally sent the caller to his voice mail.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Asher asked.
Itcould mean so many things, none of which he wanted to discuss with Asher. Not before coffee, not during coffee, and not even afterward. So he shook his head and kept his gaze locked on the ceiling as he said, “No.” He wanted to quantify his response by adding that he hadn’t changed his mind about the divorce, but his lips remained immobile.
They lay there—inches away but miles apart—until the awkwardness became too much for either of them to bear. Asher threw back the covers and climbed out of bed. Rocky closed his eyes because he knew what would come next. The familiar sounds of Asher stretching out his stiffness taunted Rocky, making it nearly impossible to ignore the masculine beauty on display. If he turned his head, he’d be able to watch the play of muscles under Asher’s skin. His husband worked out a lot to keep his body in top shape, but the job’s physical demands still took their toll.
Rocky rolled onto his side, facing away from Asher, and burrowed deeper into the sheets. The activity stirred up the intoxicating mixture of scents that made up his husband’s shampoo and bodywash. Vanilla, patchouli, and leather. The combination sounded pretentious, but it was incredible. If heaven were real, Rocky was confident it would smell just like Asher.
His husband cleared his throat, and Rocky cracked one eye open. Big mistake because it put him almost eye level with the erection straining against Asher’s briefs. Christ, how he missed the days he could ride that beautiful cock until he didn’t have a care left in the world.
“Eyes up here before I get the wrong idea, Ford.”
It was on the tip of Rocky’s tongue to tease Asher, but he squelched his instincts to peer up at his husband. “Yes?”
The corners of Asher’s lips twitched like he wanted to smile, but he fought it off. “Are you going to be okay?”
The question was like taking a sucker punch to the gut, knocking the breath out of him. Of course, Asher wanted to know if he was okay. He’d heard Rocky crying out in his sleep and was forced to coddle him back to dreamland.
And what would he do if Rocky said no? Call off sick to work, then get back into bed? Would he hold Rocky until the pain went away? Fuck, he was tempted to say no just to see what Asher would do.
“Ford?” Asher asked, pressing him for an answer.
He could give a flippant answer to appease the concern in Asher’s eyes, or he could be honest. “I’m getting there.” And he was, just not as quickly as he would have liked.
Asher held his gaze for a few seconds, searching for God only knew what. He must’ve been pleased with whatever he saw, or didn’t see, because Asher nodded. “Do you mind if I shower first? Dandridge will swing by to pick me up in a bit, and I want a chance to eat before he arrives. I can’t survive on twigs and berries like he does.”
“Of course,” Rocky replied. “I can start breakfast for you.”
“Please don’t,” Asher said.
“Fine.” Rocky closed his eyes once more, pulling the covers up to his chin and preparing to linger a little longer in a bed that smelled like Asher. His husband chuckled when he left Rocky’s room. He’d just started to doze off when his phone rang again.
“Damn it,” he grumbled as he slid from beneath the covers.
Rocky zombie shuffled into the living room and answered his cell without checking the caller ID.
“You owe me twenty bucks,” his nana said into the phone.
“What for?” Rocky adored Beatrice Jacobs with every fiber of his being, but it was too early in the morning to deal with Queen Bea’s shenanigans.
He didn’t doubt a bet had occurred because the two of them frequently wagered on the silliest things. Nana usually won, and Rocky loved the gleeful look in her eyes whenever he settled their score. Just because he didn’t remember the conversation didn’t mean it hadn’t happened. His nana’s mind was a steel trap while Rocky’s acted more like a traveling circus lately, bouncing from town to town and never lingering in one place too long. He’d read it was one of the brain’s coping mechanisms, but knowing it was common didn’t make him feel any better.
“Could you give me a hint?” he asked.
“Nurse Ratchet is gone. I said she wouldn’t last a month, but you gave her six.”