That explained Trent’s deliciously sweaty attire.
“And with a raging boner,” Braeden muttered.
I stiffened and looked down. I was still in Trent’s arms, legs around his waist. His body was definitely blocking myraging boner.There was no way anyone could see.
Braeden made a rude sound. “Don’t bother denying it. You’ve been humping him like a dog in heat since I came out here.”
Shocked, my eyes flew to Trent whose shoulders began vibrating with contained laughter. His glittering hazel eyes were oh so smug. Cheeks hot, I buried my face in the side of his neck with a groan.
“Don’t be embarrassed. We’re all dudes here.” Braeden just kept talking. “We’ll cover with the girls. And keep the kids occupied. Go get some of that man love.”
Braeden’s and Romeo’s laughter faded as they went back into the house, but I kept my face pressed into T. He must have been releasing some extra pheromones or something from that workout because he smelled hella good.
Chuckling, he stepped back, and I tightened my arms around him, making a sound of denial.
“I got you, Mask.” His voice was deep, low, and right beside my ear. Tingles fired across my scalp and pebbled the skin on my arms.
The front door slammed when he kicked it shut behind us, and instead of heading toward the dining room, he carried me up the stairs. His body shifted with every step, and his midsection rubbed teasingly against my still-hard cock.
I nibbled on his neck, practically vibrating with how bad I wanted him.
Another door closed, followed immediately by the sound of a lock.
Oh, fuck yes.
Moments later, I was being pulled away from his chest, my back meeting something solid. Startled, I glanced around, then back to T, surprised.
“Stand on the bar, baby.”
I didn’t know what it was about that word, but it hit different when he called me that. It turned me into some sort of simp.
So much so that I didn’t even question why he wanted me to step onto the inversion table, which was standing straight up. I stepped onto the small foot bar and leaned against the padded table. Trent bent immediately to engage the locks, closing the padded clamps around my ankles. Once those were secure, he stepped close, slipping his fingertips beneath the hem of my shirt.
“Lift.”
My arms rose on command, and he stripped off my shirt, throwing it over his shoulder. My tongue darted out, wetting my lips, when he reached for the button on my jeans, flicking it open in a second flat and then slowly dragging the zipper down.
He leaned in, lips hovering over mine, and my breath hitched. I swayed forward, but then he was gone, yanking both the jeans and boxers down to just below my knees.
I jolted in surprise, hands wrapping around the handles of the table as cool air brushed over my heated skin, cock jerking in response.
“Look at you,” Trent murmured, dragging his fingers from my knees all the way to the top of my thighs. “Why so needy, baby?”
My eyes swept over him. The maroon tank exposed his massive shoulders and the sides of his torso. The black shorts he wore molded to his thick thighs, not loose enough to hide the bulge he was rocking.
His skin was dewy with sweat, and I knew his hands would be calloused from lifting weights.
“Touch me already,” I spat.
Chuckling, he stepped forward.
“Lose the shirt,” I demanded, already breathless.
He tore it over his head, abs rippling with the movement. He had a good pump going on since he’d just been lifting, and the veins running down his arms had my teeth sinking into my lip.
The world tilted, feet coming out from under me, making all the air in my lungs whoosh out. Gripping the handles, I glanced down, seeing that Trent had tilted the table so I was lying flat on my back.
“What are you doing, frat boy?” I asked, looking up his bare upper body as he towered over me.
