Page 221 of Tempting Venom
“Except when it’s you?”
He shrugs. “I just…struggle with it.”
“Why? If you enjoy it so much, why can’t you accept it?”
“It just brings up unwanted thoughts.”
“Like?”
“Nothing.” He clears his throat then stares at me from under his lashes. “I just don’t think I want to come out. Would you…hate that?”
“You don’t have to come out. Not many people like labels. I don’t.”
“I feel like you’re mad when I hide.”
“Fromme. I get mad when you hide from me, Preston.”
“I will…” He swallows hard. “I’ll try my best not to do that.”
“That’s all I’m asking.” I stand, and he watches me with that hungry look that makes me want to devour him. “Wash up. I’ll wait for you downstairs.”
“Hold on.” He grabs my hand and then, as if realizing he did it, lets me go hesitantly. “Can’t I just leave through the window or something?”
“She already saw you and wouldn’t like your disappearance.”
“Your mom holds a grudge, too?”
“Who do you think I take after?” I lean down and brush my lips against his forehead. “Don’t stress about it. She’s cool.”
His lips part, and his eyes shift to the color of a bright garden, and I have to turn around so I don’t jump back into that bed and never leave.
After I put on sweatpants and a shirt, I head to the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee and bagels tickles my nostrils as I slide behind Mom.
She’s still in her pale-pink scrubs, her hair tied in a neat bun, and the usual smell of antiseptic hits me when she gives me a side hug.
“You just sit down. I have everything prepared,” she says.
“I’ll make a quick omelet.”
“Oh, right. You need your protein, my hockey star.”
“So does Preston.”
She smiles at me as I grab eggs and some veggies from the fridge.
As I cut the tomatoes and spinach, Mom leans against the counter, cradling her huge coffee mug that has “Best Nurse Ever” written on it—a gift from her co-workers for her thirtieth birthday.
“You can just say what you’re thinking, Mom.” I let out a sigh as I crack the eggs. “No need to hold your smirk like that.”
“So thatwasPreston Armstrong!” she whisper-yells. “I thought I was seeing things.”
“You weren’t.”
She hits my shoulder with hers. “Look at you scoring the best-looking man in the league.”
“I thought you said that was me.”
“You know what I mean.”
