Cam could barely hold it together, now. He wanted to drag the joy of this out, spinning it endlessly until it swallowed him up, but self-control was slippery and it was sliding away from him.
“Yeah,” Dawson breathed around him. “Come on, give it to me.”
Cam watched as his eyes fluttered closed, like Dawson really did want it, and he tumbled headfirst into his orgasm, pulsing against Dawson’s tongue.
All orgasms technically felt great, but there was a particular satisfaction in this one. When he collapsed back against the bed, Dawson’s hand still pressed into his thigh, it felt like he’d cleared the last bit of cobwebby stress out of his brain.
Any type of way he’d felt about that punt during the game,gone.
“Well, that was . . .” Dawson raised himself up and flopped back down on the bed next to Cam. When Cam glanced over at him, he was grinning. The kind of bright smile that Cam could remember seeing so many times on TV in prior years, but had never once seen in person, not since they’d both come to Toronto this season.
“Yeah,” Cam agreed. It didn’t really matter how Dawson had intended to finish that sentence, ’cause all of the possibilities would be true.
For a moment, he let himself lie there, soaking up the last bit of endorphin rush, not just of his orgasm, but of Dawson lying there next to him, an uncomplicated happiness radiating out of him.
But he couldn’t stay. Hookups didn’t really sleep over. That was one rule Cam knew like the back of his hand. Funny how it had never felt like an option before, or even like something he’d wanted.
But now he just wanted to not move, to let himself slide into sleep. Wake up next to that same look on Dawson’s face.
“Have to say,” Dawson finally said, “that wasn’t a bad idea at all.”
“Not-bad enough to repeat?” Cam asked, even though he already suspected the truth.
Dawson barked out a laugh. “I think you know the answer to that.”
Yeah, he did. And it felt damn good.
He should really be going now. They’d established it had been a very mutually satisfying encounter and that they’d be repeating it. There was no reason to stay.
Cam pushed himself upright.
“Where you going?” Dawson asked lazily.
“Back to my place?”
Dawson just chuckled again, a little darkly. Even that was hot. “Why bother?”
Cam almost said,because you said you didn’t want to complicate things, and cuddling together and definitely sleeping together complicates things.
But Dawson was ten years older than him. He’d been married. Surely he didn’t need Cam to explain that to him. If he wanted Cam to stay, then Cam wasn’t going to argue.
Not when he didn’t want to leave.
“Okay,” Cam said.
“Got a spare toothbrush rattling around here, and you can make the walk of shame in the morning,” Dawson said sleepily, slinging an arm around Cam’s waist, heavy and insistent. “Come on. It’s late. Just stay.”
It was only a few floors down to Cam’s own apartment, but it was cold and empty. Why would he go down there if he didn’t have to?
So he settled back onto the bed. “Nice mattress,” he said.
Dawson smiled again. “Yeah, isn’t it?”
Chapter 11
Itwastheweirdestwalk of shame Cam had ever performed. Probably because it didn’t feel like much of one at all.
He woke up when he heard the sound of water turning on, and for a second he couldn’t figure out why someone else was in his apartment. But then he opened his eyes and realized that hewasn’tin his apartment. The walls were just as bare and white as his, though, and it only took a second for him to realize it was Dawson’s.
