He ignores that. “Did I shove you? Oh mygod.”
Before he can put on his hairshirt, I say, deliberately making my voice wry and teasing, “I bet you’re absolutely shit at rough play.” I’m not sure how it lands, because I sort of want to cry. I hate to see him so upset.
He makes a startled sound, and then he gives a chuckle which is immediately followed by a watery sniff.
“No,” I say in horror. “Roo, no. I’m okay. Look at me.” I grab him close, and I’m stunned when he folds like a deck of cards and settles into my arms, burrowing his face in my neck. Hot moisture dampens my skin, and I grip him tightly, kissing his hair and his temples where the tears run. “Shh,” I croon. We begin to rock gently, and I tighten my grip and lay my head on his. “It’s okay,” I lie. “It’s all going to be okay.”
We sit like this for what feels like ages. His breathing is rough and panicky, but my grip never slackens. Somehow, I know he needs it to come back himself.
Eventually, he stirs. “Shit,” he says. “Motherfuckingshit.” Bernard leans in and licks his ear and Reuben reaches out a shaky hand to pet him. “Good boy. Thank you.”
He starts to extricate himself, and I let go of him reluctantly. “You okay?” I whisper.
He sits back, knuckling his eyes like a sad child. His hair is a wild mess spilling over his shoulders, looking like ink on his skin in the moonlight. His eyes are pools of darkness. “Sorry,” he finally mutters.
“Oh, fuck off.”
His head jerks up. “I beg yourpardon?”
I’m relieved to hear a thread of amusement replacing the dead tone of a few seconds ago.
“I seem to remember that you plucked me naked out of a hotel bed while I was probably drooling and took me to the hospital. So, there is no room for embarrassment between us. There canneverbe any room for that. I know you, and you know me, and that’s fucking it. Okay?”
He stares at me for a few seconds, and then his face relaxes a little. “You actually were drooling. I’d completely forgotten about that.”
“I’m sure I was still incredibly beautiful.”
“Ah, I don’t remember that quite as well.”
“Twat.”
He laughs, and it’s rough and rusty sounding enough to hurt my heart. “Well, thank you.” He gets to his feet and holds out his hand to me. “Are you sure you’re okay? I hit hard on nights like this.”
Instead of answering that question, I ask, “Can you go back to sleep?”
“Ah.” He shrugs. “Probably not.”
I take his hand and jump to my feet. “Come along, then.”
“Where? Xavier?” he asks as I pull him to the door.
“You’re coming to bed with me.”
There’s a very long pause. “Why, Xavier, this is so sudden.”
“Stop being a knob. Better put some shorts on, though.” I wink at him. “I’m not that sort of boy.”
“You areexactlythat sort of boy,” he says wryly, but slides into a pair of checked pyjama shorts. They hang from his narrow hips, showing off the tight muscles of his lower abdomen. Something hot clenches in my stomach, but I ignore it. He doesn’t need us to head down that road tonight.
“Come along.” I hold out my hand, and after a few beats, he puts his own in mine. There’s something so trusting about it, and I squeeze his fingers. “Please don’t argue. I have the best ideas, and you should have learned by now to go along with them.”
“I have very much refused to learn that lesson because that way lies catastrophe and disaster.”
I wink at him. “But it’s alwayssexycatastrophe and disaster.”
He lets me lead him to the bedroom with Bernard following us. I pause at the bed. “Do you want a shower?”
He immediately shakes his head. “If you don’t mind a sweaty man, I’d rather not.”
