I scoot closer, crawling into this lap. His eyes open and refocus on mine as I cradle his face in my hands. “He barely touched me. I’d never let him or anyone else put their hands on me the way you do.” He tries to shake his head but I stop him. “You don’t need to be scared. I got him good. And I’ll do worse if he tries it again.”

His hands grab my wrists and pull down, removing my grip. “I’m not scared he’ll touch you. I’m scared of what I’ll do when I find him.”

I’m familiar with that feeling. It consumed me until Reese took it away. Now it’s my turn to comfort him.

I look down at his hand resting in my lap. “I used to be scared of what you would do to him. It’s why I didn’t tell you about seeing him at the club. But then you told me something that took away that worry. Do you remember?” He registers my questions with a slight shake of his head. I shift in his lap, placing my hands on his shoulders and apply gentle pressure. “You said you were a smart guy, and you would never do anything that could get you into trouble. And I knew that was true. I also knew you would never do anything to hurt me. And getting yourself taken away from me because of what you want to do to Bryce would hurt me. You’re not the only one who couldn’t survive on just pictures to stare at.” He rakes a quick hand through his hair, leaving it a right mess. “Is this why you went out drinking?”

He frowns. “I hated what you said to me. About me working with Bryce after knowing how he made you feel. It killed me to hear you say that. Because I know how it looks. I fucking know. And I just wanted to stop thinking about everything.” He squints, flattening his hand against his temple. “It didn’t help.”

“I didn’t mean it. I was just angry because I thought you were blaming me for what happened.”

He grabs my face with both hands and forces me closer, putting us inches apart. “I’m sorry I yelled at you. I didn’t mean to say that. I’m just so fucking frustrated that this shit is taking so long. But I’m close. I’m so fucking close, Dylan. It’s almost over, okay?”

I don’t question what he’s saying to me. I know he won’t tell me anyway, and I don’t want to focus on this anymore. I slide off his lap, standing and reaching for him. “Come on. Let’s go lie down.”

We make it up the stairs, me still supporting a good amount of his weight. I shuffle him toward the bed, dropping his arm from around my neck and giving him a light shove. “Go ahead and get on the bed. I’ll be right there.”

He grabs my waist with both hands, pulling me against his chest. “Come with me.”

I laugh against his dress shirt before turning my gaze up to him. Tender eyes meet mine. “I am. I just need to get you some water.”

He grumbles incoherently before letting me go. Grabbing a glass from the cabinet, I fill it with some tap water and toss a few ice cubes in. As I round the counter, I spot Reese’s long legs hanging off the edge, the rest of him face-planted in the middle of bed. I set the glass on my nightstand and pull his shoes off, dropping them on the floor.

“Roll over, handsome,” I say, kneeling next to him and nudging his side. He moans but doesn’t move. Not in the slightest. He’s dead weight, and I can’t help but recognize the fact that even a passed-out, face-down Reese is better-looking than any other guy put in this scenario. I shove my hands underneath his body and push as hard as I can, rolling him onto his back. Eyes closed. Hair a right, sexy mess. I take a moment to appreciate the sweet look on his face, which will most likely be nowhere in sight tomorrow if the hangover I’m predicting decides to show up.

His heavy, even breathing fills the air as I tug off his khakis and socks. I loosen his tie, unbuttoning his dress shirt and placing them with his pants. I grab the pillows and tuck one under his head, knowing full well there is no way I’ll be able to shift his body up the bed to lie how we usually do. So we’re going with this arrangement tonight.

Placing my pillow next to his, I get settled on my side and tuck my hands under my chin. I stare at his profile until my eyelids become too heavy to hold open anymore.

29

Normally when I wake up after having passed out next to Reese, I’m used to seeing an empty side of the bed next to me. He’s always up before me during the week, getting in his own workout at the gym before he heads into the office. And even though he came home drunk last night, I still expected to wake up alone. He’s so dedicated, it wouldn’t surprise me in the least if he pushed through it with the worst hangover in the history of hangovers. But before I even open my eyes when my alarm goes off, I know he’s next to me.

I’ll always feel his presence before I see him.

I sit up after turning off my alarm, spotting him lying on his side. That’s also different. Reese is usually sprawled on top of me when I wake up, his head pressed against my chest and his long legs tangled with mine. I decide to let him sleep while I run with Joey. If Reese is sleeping in, he must need it.

After putting on my workout clothes and stepping into my Nike’s, I press my lips to his forehead, hearing him moan softly into his pillow. I make my way downstairs and see Joey’s tall frame stretching on the other side of the glass.

“You are not going to believe who I ran into last night,” he says as he pulls his arm across his chest.

I lock the door behind me and tuck my key into the pocket on the inside of my shorts. “Who?”