I was glad to see he had a king-sized bed, to suit his height, I guess, which would also suit my size. Most of the room was tidy, but the covers were twisted and askew off one side, the pillows disarranged. Looked like he’d been having a restless night.
No kidding, since he’s up at almost one in the morning.
Brooklyn tugged at the comforter and picked a pillow up off the floor. “I could change the sheets.”
I don’t mind if they smell like your skin. Not something I could say, but I hobbled to the bed and eased myself down to sit on the side. Brooklyn came and looked me over. “You want your leg raised?”
“If you’ll lie down beside me, yes.” I scooted around and grabbed my pants leg in my fist for leverage, but Brooklyn was there faster, holding my ankle in his hands, helping me raise my foot onto the bed. There was nothing sexual about his touch, but his hands on my skin made my heart race. I patted the bed beside me. “Come lie down.”
“Turn on your side and I’ll put a pillow under your knee.”
I wasn’t stupid enough to turn down some comfort, especially since my dick had gone soft with the walk from kitchen to bedroom. I rolled obediently onto my left side, and he got me settled before walking around the bed and getting in beside me.
Brooklyn stretched out, pushed up on his right elbow, and looked at me. “How are you doing?”
“Peachy,” I lied, because movement was still bad, but even as I said it the worst of the ache backed off a bit. “Meds will be kicking in soon.” I reached out to trace the line of his arm from his wrist up over his lean biceps to the curve of his shoulder. “You want to tell me what made you turn the bed into a disaster zone?”
“Not now. Not at all sexy.” He reached out in his turn to touch the tattoo sleeve on my forearm. “Why don’t you tell me what this means.”
Someday I’d give him the details, maybe. Sometime that wasn’t the first night I had Brooklyn’s fingers dancing on my skin. “Places I’ve been, things I’ve done. It was all separate bits and then when I hit Gaynor Beach and decided I was staying, I found an artist to turn the sections into true sleeves with the Celtic knotwork to tie it all together.”
“Must’ve taken a while.”
I shivered as he traced the loops of the knots above my wrist. “Yeah, it did.”
“I like it. The detail suits you.”
I wasn’t sure how he meant that. I was a pretty simple guy. But my leg had settled down some, and when Brooklyn raised his attention from my tattooed arm to my face, I leaned forward and kissed him.
He met my lips, then scooted closer and wrapped his arms around me. His warm, bare chest pressed against mine through my T-shirt. He took my mouth, fast and hard, and I liked letting him set the pace. I was a big guy and I sometimes worried I was overwhelming the man I was with, but not now. Brooklyn took control and I was happy to accept his kiss and his tongue, the clutch of his arms around my shoulders, the tug of his hand in my hair.
He groaned into my mouth and I echoed him. My dick charged back onboard, rising hard and eager, mashed up against Brooklyn’s thigh. I arched my back, thrusting against his leg and he grunted. “Yeah, that’s good.”
I wrenched my mouth free to say, “I want you naked.”
“You too.” He rolled away from me to tug off his sleep pants, and I paused, hand on the hem of my T-shirt, to watch. His cock sprang free from his waistband, long and slender and uncut, a little curved, the head ruddy and already rising from the foreskin.
My mouth watered, thinking about tasting him.
He slid the pants down his thighs and off over his feet and paused, looking my way. He had runner’s legs with long lean muscles, and a flat, tight ass with those dimples that begged for a kiss. What little hair he had dusted between his nipples down to a thin treasure trail, neatly trimmed pubes, and a little more fur on his thighs. Nothing like my ginger pelt.
Brooklyn eyed me as he folded his pants and draped them over the foot of the bed. “You waiting for an engraved invitation?”
“Just enjoying the show.” I felt my cheeks heat, because sexual innuendo, or whatever that had been, was not my comfort zone. I added, “You’re hot as hell,” because compliments I could do.
“Thanks.” He sat against the headboard and ran a hand down his chest to thumb the head of his cock. A little slick already glazed his fingertip. The groan that left my lips when he sucked his finger clean made him smile. “Come on. Your turn.”
I was comfy lying there, so I tried stripping off my T-shirt without sitting up. I got tangled in the second sleeve, but Brooklyn reached over and got me free.
He laughed as he tossed the shirt down the bed. “Your hair’s a mess.”
I blew some long strands out of my face and tried to pat the rest into behaving. “I have hair ties in my room.”
“No, I like it. My wild ginger.” He kissed my temple and then my nose.
“Lips,” I suggested.
“Let’s get your pants off first. No—” He pushed down on my shoulder, holding me in place as I tried to sit up. “I’ll do the work.”
