Page 98 of Bone Deep
He narrows his eyes, considering, then just shrugs. “Yeah, sure. When do you want to go?”
A grin breaks across my face. “We should wait until Saturday, when you don’t have to be at the office. Does that work for you? It’s okay if you have other plans.”
Spence lets out a short laugh. “Saturday it is.”
Twenty-Nine
You’re a God
Spence
I blink awake, the world slow and thick around me, heavy with sleep. Something’s off—there’s a weight pressing into my chest. And it’s definitely not Fucker. For a second I think maybe I’m dreaming, but I look down and there’s a big arm thrown over me. Not just any arm, either. Muscular. Tanned. Scattered with tiny blond hairs.
I shift my eyes to the right. Ryan’s out cold, mouth slightly open, long lashes resting on his cheeks. He’s breathing soft and deep. I freeze, heart thudding, brain setting off every alarm bell my past trauma has set.
Shit. The line of my rule about sleepovers blurred the second I brought him home from the hospital. But this—this is the line being wiped out completely, and I don’t know how I feel about that.
I don’t doubt him anymore. Not about his sexuality, obviously. But he’s still a dangerous game. He could have anyone. If he retires from football—and I have a sneaking suspicion he’s actually thinking about it—he’ll have whole new worlds to explore. Once he’s out, it won’t be just me. It’ll be everyone else at his damn feet. To his fans…and any gay man with a pulse, he’s a god. And me? I’m not.
I’m also not strong enough to resist those dimples and that ass. I’ll keep fucking him as long as he’ll let me. But I’ve got to keep a lock on my heart. Still, I can’t help but stare at him all curled up and beautiful.
I’m already losing the battle.
Ryan’s eyes flutter open. He catches me staring, and grins, slow and lazy, rubbing little circles on my chest. “Hi, Perfect,” he hums.
I narrow my eyes. “Don’t ‘Hi, Perfect’ me. What are you doing?”
He puts on his innocent voice—the one I know is anything but. “What do you mean?”
I look up at the ceiling because it’s safer than his eyes. If I look at those eyes, I’ll incinerate the last rule I have left. That’s right, folks. Only one left. Because here I am with Ryan between my sheets as the sun rises.
Sleepover. Check.
And two…yep, you guessed it.
I fucked around and caught some feelings.
I blow out a breath, run a hand through my hair. “Why are you in my bed, Ryan?”
He shrugs, still pressed against me. “Couldn’t sleep.” He scoots in, rubs his hard cock against my thigh. “And I was lonely.”
I glance at him, and my resolve nearly breaks. “We talked about this.”
He flashes a wolfish grin. “I’ve never been good at following rules.” He grinds against my thigh again, no shame whatsoever.
I sigh, pick up his arm, and move it gently off my chest. I can feel my walls closing in, panic crawling up my throat. I need out of this bed or I’m going to give in to him completely. That voice in my head, the one that got louder every time I got burned as a stupid kid, tells me this is too much, too soon. With the exception of Chance’s gallery thing a year and a half ago, it’s always been gym, fuck, repeat. Until he got injured. Now I’m—what? Playing house?
It’s not that I regret helping him. I like having him around actually. It’s just a lot. And it all happened fast.
No, you’re spiraling, Spencer.
I rip the covers off and Fucker practically screams and jumps, then flies off the bed. Woops.
Ryan laughs and I shake my head, then sit up, and swing my legs out of bed, searching for air. I’m halfway to the bathroom when I hear, “Fucking fuck.”
I look back. Ryan’s propped up on one elbow, smirking at me. “Sorry, I just love watching you walk around in your legal briefs.”
I scoff, then roll my head, try to loosen the tension in my neck, then walk around to his side of the bed and hold out my hand. He looks up at me, then at my hand.
