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“She’s the head of PR, not Harlow. Between you and me, I want you to be very careful around him. That whole thing tonight has left me with a bad feeling. And don’t look at social media for the next while.”
“Easier said than done.”
“Is it just that, or is anything else bothering you?”
I stared up into those deep pools of green. “Well, I?—”
“Holls, are you okay?”
I turned at Brodie’s voice to find him and everyone in our party standing on the sidewalk staring at us.
Dawson jolted and pulled away from me.
“I’m fine. Sorry I ran out like that. That question about my mom tonight fucked me up.”
Brodie, Ronin, and Faise walked over and surrounded me. “It’s gonna be okay.”
“It will be, thanks,” I squeezed Brodie’s arm. “I don’t know about you guys, but I need sleep.”
“Pot, then sleep.”
“Ronin, pot ain’t legal here,” Faise warned.
“Okay, a nightcap, then sleep.”
We all agreed with that.
The next morning
Someone was banging on my door, but I turned my face into my pillow.
“Iain! Wake up!”
Dawson’s voice was so clear it sounded like he was in my room. I jolted, rolling over so fast that I nearly fell out of my bed.
Half asleep, I reached for my phone and tapped it. It was just after ten.
“No!” I yelled back, unwilling to get out of my warm cocoon.
Not only did I not feel like getting out of bed, but this interruption was depriving me of my morning wank session. And I didn’t want to think about the fact that Dawson’s deep voice made me shiver and made my semi turn into a raging hard-on I couldn’t ignore.
“Get up and get your workout clothes on. We’re going to the gym,” Dawson announced.
Exercise? My boner deflated just like that.
“No!” I yelled back.
“I’m giving you ten minutes to get changed, or I’m opening this door.”
Fuck. This. Man.
I threw off the duvet and walked over to the door, wrenched it open, and stood there, stark naked.
Dawson was already in shorts and a T-shirt, his red hair a spiky mess. He hadn’t shaved, and I was a fan. His eyes ran over me, and I caught the pink flush that ran up his neck and cheeks.
“Get dressed,” he demanded, then reached down into a duffle bag and threw a jockstrap at me. “We’re going to work out some of your frustration.”
“I was about to do that on my own.” I waggled my free hand.
