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“I am. I want to be less busy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’d rather work less and get paid more. It takes a while before you can negotiate up.”

By the time they arrived back at the hotel, Anthony was exhausted and starving. After shoveling down a serving of bland room service chicken tenders and taking off his pants and sweater, he crawled under the covers. Freddie hunkered down in the upholstered chair by the window.

“Uh…” Anthony didn’t know exactly what to say. They had done something on the plane, but he wasn’t sure what it meant. He tucked the blanket up under his chin with a sheepish smile.

“Hmmm?” Freddy questioned him with a low hum.

“You, uh, don’t have to stay in the chair. You could sleep here. With me.”

Freddie was quiet for a moment.

“Tempting,” Freddie said, smoothing out the wrinkles in his shirt. “But I need to stay alert.”

Anthony furrowed his brows in confusion. This had ‘lame excuse’ written all over it.

“You have to sleep.” Anthony pushed, wanting to get a real answer.

“Here and there. But I have to be ready.”

Anthony rolled over, curling up into a ball. Had he misread the situation? He thought Freddie was interested in him. He’d been so sweet on the plane, so tender, and sexy as hell. Had Freddie just been toying with Anthony to stop his protests at having a bodyguard?

And what kind of sleep would Freddie get sitting in a chair? At some point, he needed a decent rest. Even if he was some variety of mutant super soldier.

Anthony closed his eyes, willing sleep to take him, but it was a losing battle. His brain wouldn’t quiet down, and it was vulnerable sleeping in front of a man he felt…well, something for, even if he wasn’t able to define it. He couldn’t get comfortable, and the pressure to be ready for the next day made everything worse.