Trevor's thumb lingered against Lucas's jaw, the weight of his words still hanging heavy in the room.
He set the book aside fully this time, letting it slide onto the nightstand with a soft thud. Then he reached up, caught Trevor's wrist still hovering near his face, and tugged.
Trevor's brows lifted at the sudden pull, caught off guard by the quickness of it. His balance shifted instinctively, the mattress dipping beneath his weight as he let himself be drawn closer.
Lucas didn't say a word. Mischief glimmered bright in those green eyes, a deliberate spark that cut through the storm-dark mood Trevor had wrapped around himself.
"Lucas…" Trevor began, his voice low, uncertain whether it was a warning or a plea.
But Lucas had already closed the distance, pulling him down until their foreheads brushed and Trevor could feel the warmth of his breath. "You think too much," Lucas murmured, fingers sliding to cup the side of Trevor's neck. "Stop."
