Chapter 16
Bennett knocks against my doorframe, leaning against the side with a casual stance as he waits for me to acknowledge him. I glance away from my phone, devouring his naked torso. He's wearing those low-riding sweats again. He knows how it affects me when he wears those. He has to know.
I swallow hard, feeling my lower half sizzle to life.
"What's up?" I ask, forcing my voice to remain level.
"Coach canceled practice tonight," he informs me, lifting his hand and studying his cuticles. "We have the night free."
My eyes continue to lap up the taut muscles along his stomach. An over-abundance of saliva slides along my tongue, the desire to lick him – to taste him - affecting me on a primal level. Bennett slides his fingers down the center of his stomach, toying with waistband of his boxers and looking me over with a smirk.
"That is...unless you have other plans?"
I frown, unsure of what he means.
A warm hands clasps around my elbow, pulling my attention away from the seductive man standing at my door. I tear my gaze away from him and glance beside me. Roland is in bed with me, his warm gaze temporarily freezing my train of thought.
"Roland?" I whisper in disbelief.
His masculine fingers stroke the length of my arm, his knuckles brushing against my skin. A stream of goosebumps jump to attention at his touch. He licks his lips, and my eyes become focused on his swollen, bottom lip. My mouth waters to have another taste of it and finish where we left off before.
"Don't forget about me now, Trey."
Bennett's voice pulls me from the dream version of Roland. He's walks into my bedroom and comes to stand just a foot away from my bed.
"Bennett..." I whisper his name.
"That's right," he smirks and his voice takes on a cocky, seductive edge. "Can't get me out of your head, can you?"
Roland's hand moves from my arm and to my chest, sliding down my torso until grazing over my stomach. His fingers hesitate near the edge of my waistband. I keep my eyes on Bennett as Roland's fingertips slide under my boxers.
Bennett's emerald gaze becomes fixated on the action. He leans over, supporting his weight on his hands as he begins crawling up the end of the bed. Roland presses a soft kiss against the side of my mouth, urging my attention back to him.
His deep, brown eyes study me with desire. They're eyes I've seen for years – eyes I've come to know. Come to trust. How is it possible that I am only now truly seeing them for the first time? Roland grins softly, closing the distance between us and capturing my lips with his.
His kiss is gentle and soft, his lips moving against mine with enough pressure to stir my groin to life. His tongue slips into my mouth and our kiss deepens. When an unexpected groan slips past my lips, Roland takes it as a sign of encouragement and begins stroking me beneath my boxers.
I hate to admit I want more, but I do. My hips buck reflexively into the palm of his hand. He attempts to move closer to me, to slide his leg overtop of me, but it doesn't happen. Our kiss is broken. Bennett glowers at Roland before sliding further up my body. His seductive gaze pins me in place, and he licks his lips with hunger.
"Alright," Bennett mutters darkly. "My turn."
He dips his head down, aggressively kissing me in a way so different than Roland. He hovers over me, his muscles taut and unrelenting. He doesn't lay on top of me, though. Instead he leaves enough space between the two of us for Roland's hand to continue stroking me up and down.
My head spins with stimulation. My enemy is kissing me and my best friend is jacking me off. What the hell is going on? Bennett breaks our kiss, moving his hungry lips across my jaw and down my neck. The second his lips leave mine, Roland is turning my face towards him a second later. The taste of Bennett is still tingling on my mouth when Roland captures my lips with his for the second time.
Bennett slides his tongue up the length of my neck. He hovers near my earlobe, his hot breath moving over me in waves.
"You've had a taste of both of us," he whispers, soft enough so only I can hear him. "So tell me, Trey. Which one of us do you want to fuck?"
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I wake up panting, my boner painfully pressing into the mattress. The neon light of my alarm clock reads 4:17 a.m. and I force myself into a sitting position. I run my hands through my hair, trying to control my breathing. My dreams are getting worse. If it wasn't bad enough having Bennett star in a sex dream, now Roland has joined him.
What the hell?
I lean my head against the backboard, forcing deep breaths through my nose until my growing 'issue' begins to taper. I check my phone, almost expecting to have a text or a missed call from Roland. But there's nothing. I don't blame him for not contacting me, though. My response to his confession and our moment of intimacy wasn't exactly enough to win me a Grammy.
When my body has relaxed enough, I slide out of bed and pad downstairs for a glass of water. Just before I hit the landing, however, I hear voices streaming from the kitchen. I squint towards the living room. All the rest of the guys are gone. Most of the controllers are strewn across the couch, and empty beer cans litter the floor.
Only the overhead light of the kitchen is on, and I use it's shadow to stay hidden as I get closer and closer. When I reach the doorway I realize it's Weston and Bennett. I should really just turn around and go back upstairs. The last time I stood by a kitchen doorway, I ended up losing my apartment and my best friend.
"...can't believe he told him," Weston mutters.
There's a beat of silence and a beer can scrapes against the table surface.
"And you're sure he didn't know?" Weston asks.
Bennett snorts. "Not a chance. When he was telling me about it, he looked like he was ready to shit his pants."
My eyes narrow to slits in the darkness, scowling at Bennett despite the fact that he has no idea I'm here. While Weston laughs, I adjust my positioning, angling my body in the shadows enough to see the both of them while still staying hidden.
Bennett's hair is pulled back into a loose bun. A few, stray strands fall around his face, displaying his masculine features with gentle ease. He's shirtless. My eyes drop of their own accord to soak up the view. Even sitting the man doesn't seem to have an ounce of fat on him. A pair of mesh gym shorts barely hang on his hips, and I close my eyes for a brief second to calm down my racing thoughts. Seeing him like this stirs up a few unwanted thoughts....especially now that I'm awake.
"Do you think he's into men?" Weston asks, tapping his slender fingers across the wooden table.
Bennett hesitates, and I notice a flicker of indecision pass across his features. Does Weston not know about the kiss between us?
"No idea," Bennett finally mutters. "Don't fuckin' care, either."
Weston sighs, tilting his head to the side and giving his best friend a pleading look. Bennett stiffens, clenching his fist and staring down at the table. The two of them sit in silence, both of them seeming to have opposing sides to an issue I don't quite understand.
"I'll find out," Bennett says through clenched teeth.
Weston relaxes and his voice lowers to a whisper. "Thank you."
"Mmm."
"I'm sorry, Benny. I don't know what else to do. I just..."
"You can't move on if there's still a chance. I get it."
Bennett finishes his train of thought with a cold, even voice, sliding his tongue along his top row of teeth. He almost looks pained. Is talking about me that repulsive to him? Yea, well. Talking about him isn't a picnic either. The guy's a complete jackass, with no disregard to –
"And if he's into dick, then what?" Bennett asks after a minute of uncomfortable silence.
Weston shifts in his chair, clearly uncomfortable with the question. He swallows hard and glances at his thumbnail. When he doesn't respond, Bennett runs his hands through his hair, causing another few strands to fall out of place.
"Then I guess it's time to move on," Weston mumbles.
Bennett sighs at the answer. I notice his stomach flexing and his fists clench and unclench with frustration. The conversation seems to be winding down, and the last thing I want to do is get caught eavesdropping. My feet refuse to move, though. It's like I'm fixated on Bennett, hanging on his every word and movement.
"And where does that leave us?"
My eyes widen.
Whoa, whoa. Wait. Us?
As in...Weston and Bennett?
The breath leaves my lips and I stare at Bennett in bewilderment. Weston turns to look at his best friend, and it's apparently the silent cue Bennett needs to leave his chair. He walks over to Weston, hesitantly grabbing his hand from the table. Bennett brings it close to his face, brushing his lips against Weston's knuckles affectionately.
My heart hammers against my chest and heat rises to my cheeks. This can't....this can't be real. Jealousy stirs within me, an emotion that catches me off guard and leaves me feeling slightly queasy. Bennett leans down, placing a gentle, chaste kiss against the side of Weston's mouth. My jealousy swells.
I close my eyes and back away from the kitchen, away from the scene, away from everything. All this time I thought Bennett disliked me because he had a thing for Roland. Or perhaps he had a thing for me. But all along I was wrong.
He doesn't have feelings for me.
He's in love with Weston.
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A/N: Whoa, whoa, whoa! What?
Haha. Picture of how I envision Weston to look posted above. Thanks for reading, folks. Have a great Friday!