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I blow out a deep sigh. Of course I like what we do together late at night when Dean has a nightmare. Obviously, so does he. I’d also like to think maybe we can be more to each other.

“Thought we’d try something new tonight,” I say.

“The bed’s too small.”

“We’ll fit. We’ve done it before.” Not well, but it works. “You should get a bigger one.”

I urge him onto the mattress, waiting until he situates himself on his side before I climb in after him. My front molds to his back. One arm wraps around his waist, and almost immediately I feel us both exhale.

“Why do you want things to be different?”

I’m not fucking with that question right now. Something tells me that wanting to make it easier for me to sleep here regularly might be more than Dean’s ready to handle.

Realizing he’s tense, I slide a hand under his shirt, rubbing the subtle ridges of his abs. “Breathe, Dean.”

“I can’t.”

“Of course you can. It’s an automatic function of your nervous system. Just for a minute, let it be your focus. Right now, there’s nothing for you to fix. Time to relax. Stop worrying.”

He lets out a slow exhale.

“There you go. In…out. Exactly like that.”

As much as I can feel him resisting me, his ribcage expands. His shoulders finally release. A few moments later his breathing evens out. Honestly, I expected him to argue more. Guess he was too tired.

For me, though, sleep doesn’t come easy. Even as I press my lips to the back of Dean’s neck, stealing one of the few things I’m afraid to take when he’s aware of me, my heart swells.

He’s not the only one with a head full of worry. I need to tell Dean about what happened with his father, and I don’t know how that’ll go. And, in spite of his text to Ravi, there’s lingering terror in my heart that Dean will put himself in further danger by trying to run down this drug lead. For now, I’m pushing it all away.

Dean Ness is in my arms, and this time it doesn’t feel like pretending. It’s the way I’ve wanted him since we were eighteen years old.

It’s not the first time we’ve slept in the same bed, but it’s the first time it’s felt real. Like Dean’s actually mine.

And I’ll fight like hell to keep him.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

Dean

As Mike and I stand at the threshold of our friends’ soon-to-open bed-and-breakfast, he presses his hand to my back.

“You’re okay.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.” Still, with Ella’s hand clutched in mine, I realize I’m relaxing back into his touch.

When we walk into the barbecue being held by our former-escort friends Adam and Toy, and their new boyfriend, things are already in full swing. The official word is we’re late because I kept forgetting things on the way out the door. The unofficial reason?

Haunted houses freak me out.

Not that I don’t like these guys. Outside of Mike and Ella, our escort and former-escort friends are the closest thing I have to family.

But who buys a haunted house on purpose? Am I the only one who thinks that’s asking for trouble?

Maybe, because everyone else seems to be having a blast. The open kitchen, pretty with all its gleaming stainless steel and warm lights, hosts a few escorts and former escorts. On the stone countertop there’s a bunch of fancy wines I’ve never heard of.

The back door stands wide open, showing the way to one of those elegant-looking outdoor living-room-type spaces I’ve seen. The kind that always make me wonder, how on earth do they keep it clean? I can’t keep up with the dust bunnies in my small apartment, for crying out loud.

Much as I love my friends, this is one of those times when we’ve barely arrived and already I wish we could leave. My neck feels tight, my pulse feels like it’s randomly set, and the worst part is I don’t want Mike to know. Which he definitely already does.