Page 63 of Bone Deep
I glance down at my hog bouncing around in these tiny shorts and snort under my breath. Yeah, this is either genius or incredibly dumb.
When I reach his building, I push through the doors and head straight for the elevator, waving to Spence’s concierge, George, as I wait. He’s a fan, much to Spence’s disdain.
Once in the elevator, my pulse ticks higher with every floor that passes. By the time the doors slide open, I’m fully in my head. I step up to his door, look down at myself, and adjust my cock. Just a little fluffing.
Half a minute passes after I knock. Nothing. I wait a few more seconds, then knock again. I raise my fist to knock again, but stop when I hear Spence. “Coming. Calm down.” His voice is rough. Grumpy. My confidence falters immediately.
Great. Perfect timing, Ryan.
I swallow, suddenly hyper-aware of exactly what I’m wearing—or not wearing—as the lock clicks.
The door swings open, and…
Jesus.
Spencer looks like absolute hell. His hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a single strand of his out of place. Dark circles drag under his eyes. His nose is red, his skin is pale, and he’s wrapped in a blanket.
“What do you want, Ryan?” he rasps.
I blink, thrown.
Then I take him in again, slower this time. “Wow,” I say. “Okay. Well, it’s our workout day. I came to get you, but clearly that’s not happening.” I tilt my head. “Are you okay?”
He coughs and fixes me with a glare. “Do I look okay?”
“No.” I grimace. “You look like shit.”
“Gee, thanks.” He turns on his heel, shuffling toward the couch. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he mutters. “I’m sick, ass-hat.”
I step inside, shutting the door behind me. “How was I supposed to know you were sick? You could’ve texted me.” I’m sure I sound irritated, but jeez, he could have told me he wasn’t feeling well. I would have taken care of him.
“I’ve been sleeping,” he shoots back, dropping onto the couch with a thud.
“That sucks.” I sigh, the irritation dissolving just as quickly as it came. “I’m sorry. When did it start?”
He shifts, glaring up at me through half-lidded eyes. “Last night. Probably picked it up at that dumb event. Those things are giant petri dishes.” He squints at me. “This is all your fault.”
“Hey.” I point at him. “You would’ve been there regardless. Don’t pin this on me.” I shake my head. “I’m sorry you’re sick, but you’re the one being an asshole.”
He exhales, long and tired, then rubs his fingertips in circles over his temples. “I know. I’m sorry,” he mutters. “I’m just cranky. I’m the worst when I’m sick.”
I raise a brow. “Only when you’re sick?” That earns me a laugh, which immediately turns into a coughing fit.
“Don’t—” cough “—make me laugh, jerk.”
I can’t help smiling. “Alright, alright.” I glance around, taking in the battlefield of cold and flu medicine on the coffee table. “What do you need? I see you’ve already raided a pharmacy.”
Then, as if summoned, Fucker trots out from the hallway. Spence groans softly. “Shit. I haven’t fed him today. Would you mind?”
I grin, bending down as the cat approaches. “You want me to feed your pussy?”
“Jesus—” he starts, laughing into another cough, stringing together what sounds like at least three different swear words at once.
I bend down and scoop the cat up. “Hey F-Bomb. Is your daddy trying to starve you?” When I straighten, Spence has gone quiet, and he’s staring. Not at my face…
Lower.
Heat creeps up the back of my neck. Right. My brilliant commando plan. I shift slightly, clearing my throat. “Okay,” I say, aiming for casual and landing somewhere closer to squeaky.“I’m going to feed this little guy. How about you? Have you eaten?”
