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Waking offers no more acceptance than I fell asleep with. The only thing trying to convince me this was a good idea is the morning wood I have no chance of controlling.

I take deep breaths, trying to calm my pounding heart, and as I settle, my other senses kick in. I register the warmth of his breath on the top of my head, the occasional twitch of his hand against my back. His heart rate is nearly a perfect match to mine, and it makes me wonder what he’s dreaming about to have made it jump so quickly in his chest.

I focus on the rhythmic beat, finding that I like the feel of it. I honestly enjoy the warmth of his body against mine. That guilt I worried about last night still hasn’t sunk in, but I know it’s coming. It always rears its ugly head eventually.

I never imagined having such a serious conversation with Drake like I had last night. It doesn’t help to keep him in that box I’ve been trying to shove him into the last couple of months. The rules of that box tell me that doing anything with this man wouldn’t be worth the risk to my soul.

I resist the urge to roll my hips, blaming my need to piss on the erection straining in my jeans, all the while grateful we fell asleep fully clothed last night.

I jolt when he says my name.

“Alex?”

Man, I love the sound of it coming from his lips. He took right to it, not even bothering to ask if I had a problem with him shortening it.

“Is that a cucumber in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

I huff a laugh, the sound more a breathy snorting sound as I bury my face deeper into his shirt.

He could’ve said a million things, but joking, still being the man I know to say something funny, despite the very real pull I can’t help but press into him, makes me smile.

I shake as he laughs.

“Two guys went to a brothel. They tried the handle but it was locked. There was a sign on the door. Do you know what it said?”

I shake my head, still refusing to pull my head back because that means facing him, facing this day, and facing the fact that we slept for hours in the same bed.

“It said beat it. We’re closed.”

He waits, silently, and it takes me a minute to understand the joke, and then I lose it. I laugh so hard, I have to push off his chest to breathe.

“That’s ridiculous,” I manage after a long moment.

He has that same sleepy smile on his face he did in that picture I still haven’t had the strength to delete from my phone. I’m not proud of how often I look at it or what I sometimes do to myself when I do.

“Your heart rate jumped before you spoke. What were you thinking about?”

I know now the man wasn’t asleep.

He shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

I sigh. “Really? After everything I told you last night?”

“I was thinking about wrapping my lips around that thing you’ve been poking me with for the last hour.”

My mouth snaps closed.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I’ll try harder at this friend thing.”

It is nearly impossible to keep from rolling my hips which are still pressed against him. I lower myself back down, feeling like I’m taking advantage because I know he’ll never tell me to get off of him.

Facing him as I speak feels too hard, but I’m certain I can manage it with my head back on his chest.

His arm doesn’t hesitate to wrap around my back, the muscles flexing a little as if he wants me closer than I can physically manage.

“I got a blow job once from a guy in the Corps. I justified it at the time because it was something done to me, not something I did myself. I didn’t even touch him. I just laid there and took what he had to offer. I convinced myself for all of five minutes that it was his sin, not mine.”

I grin against his shirt. “Your heart just kicked up again.”

“I’m just thinking about how sinful I am. How sinful I want to be right now.”

I shake my head against his chest. “Don’t do that. Don’t turn my failures and trauma into a joke.”

A warm finger lifts my chin until I’m looking up at him. “That isn’t my intention at all, Alex.”

I try to look away but he doesn’t let me.

“Tell me when it’s too much.”

I nod, my throat working to shove down the reminder that we’re supposed to be friends, as he turns me to my back, his body straddling me at my knees.

“I want you to know I didn’t plan this,” he whispers, his mouth dangerously close to my ear. If he touches me there, I’ll lose my mind. “I heard you last night when you said you don’t want to be who you are, but it doesn’t change the fact that this is what you need.”

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