Page 13 of The Best Parts of Him

“This is Jason’s,” Ryland whispered.

He opened the door, flicked on the desk lamp . . .

And there, snuggled together in the middle of the bed, were Bellamy and Jason, fast asleep. One of them was snoring lightly.

Cursing under his breath, Ryland clicked the lamp off, and they snuck back out of the room, closing it quietly behind them.

“Looks like they had the same idea,” Ryland murmured. “Guess you have no choice but to bunk down with me.”

Ryland’s bedroom was a complex contradiction of guest room and little boy’s room. It appeared to have been converted into a guest bedroom, yet there were trophies on shelves built into the wall and Ryland’s clothes lay folded on top of the dresser, as though he hadn’t been bothered to put them away on laundry day.

“You get that side.” Ryland pointed at the side of the bed closest to the window.

Dabbs slid under the bedcovers and closed his eyes, biting back a groan of contentment. This was so much better than sharing a tent with six other people.

Wait. If Bellamy and Jason were in the house, whose limbs had Dabbs been covered in earlier?

Maybe Bellamy and Jason had snuck out after Dabbs had left the tent?

He opened his eyes to ask Ryland’s opinion on it and found Ryland staring at him. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“I mean . . . ” Ryland booped his nose. “Aren’t you?”

Dabbs was.

A little too much.

He closed his eyes again.

“Good night, Ryland.”

“Good night, Dabbs.”

Dabbs was asleep before Ryland turned off the light.

Dabbs woke up to pitch-darkness and a tangle of limbs.

Still not in the sexy way.

The disappointment that hit was acute and unwanted.

Wait, scratch that. It wasn’t pitch-black. Sunlight played peekaboo around the sides of the blackout curtains, and the tangle of limbs was Ryland’s leg tucked between Dabbs’.

Plus, Ryland’s chest against his back and Ryland’s nose at the base of his neck.

It was . . . cozy. Warm. And judging by the state of his morning wood, his body didn’t hate the sensation of Ryland’s against his.

And was that Ryland’s morning wood poking him in the back?

Okay, maybe it was in the sexy way.

Still mostly asleep, Dabbs croaked a half-formed, “Wha?”

“I’m cold,” Ryland mumbled. “You stole all the covers.”

Dabbs raised his head to look and?—

Shit. He had stolen all the covers, leaving Ryland in boxer shorts and a T-shirt, arms curled around himself for warmth against the house’s air conditioning and cuddled up to Dabbs for body heat.