burrowing his face into my armpit. He pressed his lips to my biceps, but his steady breathing told me
he was still sound asleep. That made me smile like a damned fool. Even though he was dead to the
world, he was slowly opening up and showing affection.
“My sweet, sweet boy. What am I going to do with you?” I whispered. I still couldn’t believe this
was really happening. It felt both sudden and inevitable. Looking back, I wondered if the way I had
originally reacted to Corey wasn’t an indication of how I viewed him but more my brain trying to
resist what my heart already knew. There was a reason Corey and I wound up crossing paths. He
would have checked every box on my list of what made the perfect boy, if such a list existed.
I lay there a bit longer, combing my fingers through his hair, smiling every time he made a sleepy
noise. Eventually, his breathing shifted, and he lifted his head to look at me. The corner of his mouth
lifted into a shy smile, his sleepy eyes widening like he was trying to remember how he got here.
“Good morning, sweetheart,” I greeted him. “Did you sleep well?”
Corey rubbed the sleep from his eyes. Damn, the differences between us were vivid this morning.
He had a baby face hiding behind the neatly groomed scruff he maintained, and I was a grizzled old
man. He possessed shyness and insecurity, where I was the type to charge after what I wanted. As his
brain began to wake up, I noticed his anxiety increasing. His breathing turned ragged, and I was
certain the worst of my fears were coming true.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” I combed my fingers through his hair, offering up a silent prayer that I was
wrong. The longer I caressed his head, the more he seemed to relax, and his breathing returning to
normal.
“What time is it?” he asked, his voice panicked. He tried to roll away from me, his arm flailing
behind him, reaching for something. Most likely, his cell phone. I held him tighter, wanting to maintain
this sense of tranquility a little bit longer.
“It’s just after ten,” I told him. He’d said last night that his daughter would be coming over this
afternoon. Even if he meant early afternoon, that still gave us a couple hours together. “How are you
feeling this morning?”
“Like I could stay here a few more days and I might actually feel normal. Well, not normal, seeing
as I am constantly running on fumes, but you know what I mean.” I admired the lean lines of his body
as he stretched, arching his back, pressing his morning wood against my thigh.
“Any time you need to relax and unwind, my arms are open for cuddling,” I offered. God, that
