Page 8 of Dean (Unexpected #9)

CHAPTER EIGHT

DEAN

Probably shouldn’t have put my employee in bed with me, but he was plastered and I was worried he’d die in his sleep. So here I am, waking him every hour, checking his pulse, and forcing him to drink water.

Or maybe that’s just my excuse to touch him and have him close.

No, that’s not it. I really am worried. I don’t want him to expire in his sleep. I’d miss him. Just like I missed him earlier when he went out and left me at home…alone.

The way my stomach churned when I thought about him with someone else. The possessiveness that rolled through me.

Something is terribly wrong with me.

I don’t know what the fuck is happening to my brain…to my heart.

To my cock.

It’s hard. All the time now.

“You okay?” I ask softly, and he grunts. Avery has spent the last twenty minutes wiggling around, trying to get comfortable. And I’m worried he’s not feeling well. With how drunk he was, he can’t be feeling good.

“I’m just so hot. Damn clothes,” he murmurs and sits up with a whine, pulling his shirt over his head and shucking his pants onto the floor as he flops onto his stomach. It leaves him only in his underwear, a small little slip of fabric that barely covers his ass cheeks.

Shit.

My eyes land on his butt and I take it in. It’s cute and round, just like I knew it would be. My dick perks up even more and shame washes through me. He’s drunk and here I am…having a small crisis.

I should leave and go sleep in his bed, give him some privacy, but when I try to leave, he whimpers.

“Don’t go.”

Those two words keep me rooted to the spot. Well, guess I’m stuck here forever. Avery must sense that I’m not going anywhere because he wiggles closer and closer , the scent of him, something sweet and sugary, invading my nostrils. Probably the drinks he consumed, but I don’t know. It could just be him. He is always so sweet.

I turn on my side to face him, his slumbering form, his pouty lips, that hair. I will never admit this to anyone, but I had a dream about that hair the other night, my fist wrapped around it…

I reach out and brush it away from his face, and he sighs, almost like he enjoys me touching him.

I should not be touching him. Not like this. Not when I’m confused. And yet, I do it anyway. Like a moth to a flame.

My hand falls between us and his fingers slide to mine as if he’s drawn to me. His soft skin brushes against mine and his lips part.

My eyes can’t move away from him, from where we’re touching. When was the last time I just held someone’s hand?

My mind flashes to him walking up to the house, that guy’s arm around his waist.

Something ugly churned inside of me when I thought he’d be bringing the guy inside to fuck him.

I didn’t want to hear it. I didn’t want to even think about someone else touching him like that.

Swallowing, I let my thumb slide across the back of his hand. I need to reflect on what that means, why I feel this way.

You just care. You don’t want him hurt.

Maybe, I think. Maybe .

Or maybe it’s something else.

Avery pulls my hand up to his neck and he tucks it under his chin, leaving me to scoot even closer to him so my arm doesn’t fall asleep. Our legs brush and a tingle slips up my spine. My cock is hard and pressed out from the confines of my pajama pants.

I will it to go down, but it won’t.

I fucking can’t control this. Any of this.

I’m losing a piece of me to him.

I did it with Elaine and look what happened, the pain I went through. What the fuck am I even doing with a man half my age when I’m not even gay?

And yet, still I stay, just watching him. I should close my eyes and sleep. I should rest. I have an entire day of work ahead of me tomorrow. I have to be on it, to be able to function.

I say this and yet my eyes don’t leave him. I just memorize his face, the way he breathes, the way his leg drapes over mine. My eyes only start to droop as the sun starts piercing through the blinds. And by the time I finally give in, Avery is pressed against me fully, his face tucked into my arm, his lips against my skin.

It’s a mistake , I tell myself. I shouldn’t do this.

And yet, I don’t move.

I just let him tuck himself against me as I breathe in his essence, the connection we share.

I only move when he does, his body sliding against mine, a mortified groan escaping his throat.

“Oh god. Oh, fuck me,” he says.

He rolls onto his back and gasps when he realizes he’s only wearing those tiny panties that I looked at far too long last night.

“What did I do?” He inhales quickly, and I shock him by grumbling a response.

“You came home drunk and stripped naked in my bed.”

“I did not!” He’s aghast, looking completely horrified.

I can’t help but chuckle at how mortified he seems. “Yeah, and you might have held my hand all night long.”

“Oh, don’t tell me. Oh fuck. What did I say?” His cheeks are bright red, his eyes wide. “What did I say, Dean? ”

“You didn’t say anything. Said it was a secret.”

“Oh, thank god.” He flops backward and stares at the ceiling. “I have some dignity left then.”

He turns his head and meets my amused stare.

“We will never talk about this.”

“I may have to talk about it,” I reply, and he scowls.

“We will never talk about it. Ever again. Now close your eyes. I need to get up.”

“Avery, I already saw everything last night.”

But still, I let my eyelids close, and I hear him roll out of bed with a pained grunt. “I hate Christy. Those drinks were potent. I don’t trust her or Beau. Jesus, what an idiot.”

His footsteps disappear from my room and a moment later, the bathroom door shuts and the shower turns on.

Well, he didn’t die , I think as I turn and sit up, scrubbing at my face with a sigh. I did my job. I was a good roommate and friend.

With a satisfied grunt, I stand up and see my cock hard and pressed out from my pajama pants.

I stare down at it for a moment before adjusting myself.

Just morning wood , I tell myself. Nothing more.

It has nothing to do with Avery mostly naked in my bed last night. Not at all.

I tell myself that while I step into my bathroom and while I jack off in the shower. I don’t think about his long legs and his pert ass.

I don’t think about him at all.

When I walk into the kitchen, Avery is there, his hair pulled back, his eyes slightly squinted. He looks like he’s having the hangover from hell.

“My head is throbbing.”

He takes a long sip of his tea and sighs. “I won’t ever do that again. No more drinking.”

“You’re young. You will.”

“I won’t, Dean.” His eyes meet mine and he looks bashful. “And I’m really sorry about all of that. I imposed and it won’t happen again.”

Fuck, but doesn’t he know? I want him to impose. All the time.

“It was fine. I’m just glad you’re okay this morning. ”

He turns his gaze back to the eggs in the pan. “If that’s what you think this is, then yeah, guess I’m okay.”

“Come on. Let me finish the eggs. Sit down.”

He reluctantly lets go of the spatula, taking his tea with him and sitting at the kitchen table with a low moan.

“God, my feet hurt. Good thing I didn’t wear my heels last night.”

I turn to look at him, and he blushes.

“I mean…other shoes. Not heels. Ugh, forget I said that.”

“You can wear heels, Avery,” I say. “If that’s what you like.”

He stares at me, blinking furiously.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. If that’s what you want to wear, you should. No one will say shit. I promise you that.”

He bows his head and sniffles and then sips on his tea sloppily.

“Okay. Thank you.”

I nod and turn back to the eggs, which are slightly brown now, but I tried. It’s the thought that counts. That’s what Elaine always said. I never was a good cook, never really cared about food enough to learn.

I scrape the brown eggs onto a plate and grab the toast, buttering it and setting it before him.

He won’t meet my gaze, and fuck, I have to fist my hands so I don’t reach out and touch him.

I want to though. I really fucking do.

“The eggs aren’t yellow,” he murmurs, his voice a little choked.

“I burned them. A little.”

He snorts and scoops some into his mouth. “They’re really good.”

“They better be. A Dean special.”

He peers up at me, his eyes red-rimmed and shining.

“I love them.”

“Liar.”

He huffs a small laugh. “Maybe just a little.”

We grin at each other and his knees hit mine. But I don’t move away, I just let them rest there while we eat breakfast.

And when we drive to work together, I may put my arm across the back of his seat. Not touching, but there. Just inches away.

“Party hard last night?” Cash asks me, and I side-eye him. It was not a party. It was torture.

“Avery did.”

“Alone?”

“Yeah, went out and met some friends. Drank too much.”

“Hm. Should have gone with him. He’s pretty. Might find someone else quick if you don’t put out.”

My lips turn down, my stomach churning. “Fuck off with that shit, Cash.”

“What? It’s the truth.”

Ford moves over to us and slings his arm around Cash. “Talking about putting out?”

Cash rolls his eyes and Ford chuckles just as Ben walks in. He peers over at us, swallowing roughly, his hand going up to his neck. He looks anxious, like he’s had a rough night.

I don’t like that at all. I should have been there for him. But I was with Avery.

Fuck. Am I a bad dad? Would Elaine be disappointed in me?

“You okay?” I ask, my voice booming through the quiet warehouse.

Ben jumps and his face reddens.

“Yeah.” His voice cracks and he clears his throat. “Yep! Great!”

Cash and Ford glance at one another, probably concerned as well, although their cheeks are slightly red as they look at me, but maybe I’m just imagining shit. Maybe being with Avery last night has made a screw loose. I study Ben once more and then shake my head at Ford and Cash. None of us should bother him about it at work. I’ll talk to him later when he’s home. We don’t talk nearly enough these days, and I want him to know that I’m here for him. I’ll always be here.

It’s the one thing I did right.

It’s the one thing I’ll continue to do well.

My eyes flick up to Avery, who’s working in the office. He’s wearing a form-fitting romper, one that shows off his ankles and his arms. Little rainbows decorate the fabric, and every time I see it, I can’t help the little ping of pride that filters through me .

He’s being brave. Maybe soon he’ll wear those heels he talked about.

If he wants to.

Maybe he’ll even get his belly button pierced like I suggested.

“If you stare any longer, your head is going to get stuck like that,” Ford says, and I turn to glower at him.

“I was just checking…on the shop. Making sure it’s run efficiently.”

“Yeah, I see what part of the shop you’re concerned with.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

Ford chuckles and we get back to work. Nobody talks about it again and thank fuck for that. Because I don’t know what I feel. I have no idea what’s going on with me.