Rebel without a Claus: A Winter Holiday MM Tentacle Romance by L Eveland

Author:L Eveland [Eveland, L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grim Cat Press
Published: 2023-12-24T16:00:00+00:00

Rebel promptly fell asleep after, but I stayed awake, cataloguing his features and listening to him breathe. The moment almost didn’t feel real. The dull ache in my ass was the only proof that it was. I couldn’t believe I’d fallen into bed with the Rebel Rhail, especially since a few hours ago, I was convinced he hated me. Maybe he still did. Sex with him had been anything but affectionate, but maybe that was just how he was.

Why did he sleep with me? I wondered and gently stroked a tentacle over his chest, admiring the coarse hair there. Did it mean anything? Or was it just an act of desperation?

He stirred slightly, lips forming incoherent words that I wanted to taste. Instead, I just watched him, admiring him in silence like I’d been doing for years, except this was different. The longing pull I’d always felt toward him had been replaced by a churning, stirring fear that he’d wake up and this would all disappear. What if he refused to acknowledge what’d happened? Or worse, what if he regretted it?

He winced when I drew my tentacle over his injured shoulder and his eyes fluttered open, unfocused.

“Sorry,” I murmured and settled against the pillows, hoping he’d go back to sleep.

But Rebel couldn’t ever do what was best for him. He had to do the hardest thing. He turned over onto his stomach and stared at me. I stared back at him, unsure of where we stood or what I should say. His expression was unreadable, and his scent was too buried beneath sex and sweat to read.

“How’s your shoulder?” I cringed inwardly. The guy fucked you half to death and all you can say is, how’s your shoulder?

“Hurts,” he murmured, still staring at me.

“I think I might have some Tylenol if you want it.”

For a minute, I thought he might refuse me out of sheer stubbornness, but he gave a subtle nod. I threw back the covers and rushed into the bathroom where I’d put all my toiletries, hastily searching through my travel kit. There were only two left, so I hoped the pain didn’t linger too long. I emptied the bottle, filled a glass with some milk from the fridge, and brought him both.

When I returned to the room, I was disappointed to find Rebel had pulled on his boxers. He was squatting next to the darkened fireplace, trying to coax a small flame to life.

Rebel glanced up at me and then at the milk. “Could’ve just brought water.”

“You shouldn’t take these on an empty stomach.” I placed the milk and the pills on the bedside table, suddenly feeling awkwardly vulnerable since he’d gotten dressed and I hadn’t.

The fire suddenly flared to life, surprising Rebel enough that he grunted and fell back, landing on his hands. He hissed as he put too much weight on his arm. With a sigh, I went to help him up and back to bed.

“I’m fine,” he groused as I deposited the medicine in one hand and held out the glass of milk.

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