Page 30 of Remade

Leighton stretched out and yawned. “Now I’m glad I faked being asleep.”

“You didn’t do a great job,” I muttered.

“Good enough.” He reached up and kissed my jaw before he rolled out of the bed and stretched his arms above his head.

Definitely my hoodie, but what really caught my eye was the insane bruise that showed when the hoodie rode up. It was way worse than the faint ones across his cheek and jaw.

“What the fuck is that?” I pointed. It was nearly black. A purplish black. Blotchy and angry and taking up a big portion of his abdomen on the right side.

He dropped his arms again and winced. “Painful is what it is. They had to check me for internal bleeding.”

I felt how the corners of my eyes tightened. “And?” I pressed.

“And chill.” He smiled slyly and returned to me, and he leaned over and kissed me. “It’s just a nasty bruise. I took a punch at some point and didn’t even notice it.”

Adrenaline had that effect.

But I supposed I could relax. He was fine. And he was here, all sexy and adorable with his horrible taste in men.

I gripped his chin loosely and pecked him twice. “You should get some proper sleep.”

“I can do that right here in your arms,” he murmured. He grabbed my hand and brought it to his lower back, low enough that my fingers dipped under the waistband of his sweatpants.

I worked on autopilot and soon discovered my boy was going commando. Fucking hell, he had the sweetest little ass. The hell was he doing to me? Even though I’d always been an ass-man, this was absurd.

“I made the mistake of listening to Coach last night,” he said, nipping at my bottom lip. “He told me to take a couple hours to myself. Freshen up, eat, rest, whatever. And when I got back here, I found out some fucking nurse had helped you shower.”

Oh-ho! Leighton was feisty. This was bold coming from him.

I grinned into one more kiss, and then I gave his ass a solid squeeze and inched back to look him in the eye.

He was dead serious.

“Didn’t you see I was covered in caked blood and soot?” I chuckled, confused.

“Yeah, so? I could’ve helped you,” he mumbled stubbornly. “I can’t have you in porn-worthy situations with other women. Who knows what’ll send you back to the enemy.”

I cracked up but had to suppress most of it, ’cause fuck me sideways, the slightest tremble set my arm on fire.

I kept rubbing my hand all over his ass, partly because I couldn’t help myself, and partly because I wanted him to see the irony. I was damn near obsessed with him. Wasn’t that enough proof? Then again, we hadn’t discussed shit, and he only knew I had a string of failed relationships with women.

But seriously, how fucking soft could his ass be? All smooth. Perfect handfuls.

“First of all, you’re not my first journey into the world of bisexuality,” I told him. “I had a whole thing when I was a teenager. You’re just the one who fucked me up completely—to the point where I can’t stop gropin’ your tight little ass.”

His mouth twisted a little, as if he was fighting a smile. “I did notice it. That’s kinda gay.”

I chuckled and nudged him closer. Refamiliarizing myself with his ass would have to wait. “Second of all, your fake possessiveness is just cute. And a turn-on. I’m not gonna lie.”

“You think it’s fake?” He leaned in so our lips almost touched. “It’s not fake, Bo.”

Bo.

Must’ve been the first time I’d heard him use my first name.

I liked it a ridiculous amount. “Keep calling me that when we’re off the clock,” I murmured. “I wanna hear you moan it too.”

He raked his teeth across his bottom lip, eyes clouding with need. “Maybe when I help you in the shower next time.”

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