Page 12 of Cade

But I knew better.

So instead of hiding in the gorgeous bathroom of Weston’s hotel suite, I bravely opened the door to see him standing before me, looking somehow even more delicious with his hair all rumpled, hanging in his jeweled eyes. I didn’t want to give in and look at him, because a part of me knew the minute I did, I’d be a goner. I’d never forget him, or the taste of his kiss, the feel of his cock.

I failed miserably as my gaze caught his, and I had to remember to breathe.

Weston sidled past me to do his business, shutting the door and leaving me alone in the light of day. The hotel room didn’t look quite as unkempt as one would expect after a night of hot, drunk sex. Though the hurricane inside of me felt every bit unkempt.

I cleared my throat as I took in the sight of the clothes strewn about the floor, like breadcrumbs leading to the bed we’d ended up in. Within seconds, the toilet flushed, and the water echoed, a ticking time bomb to me.

Weston brushed past me once more, grabbing a pair of pants from his suitcase on the way, wasting no time getting dressed. The world around me seemed in slow motion as I gripped my towel around my waist. I watched for a moment as Weston slid his briefs and the tailored pants up over his taut ass, and my cock twitched beneath my towel at the memory of his skin, warm against his own.

I had to look away. If I didn’t, I knew somehow I’d make an even bigger fool of myself, so I slowly moved across the room, picking up my discarded clothes as I went, fighting not to steal any more glances at Weston.

If I look at him, I’ll see the regret in his eyes, and I don’t want to sour this. It’s already difficult enough.

Weston must have sensed my anxiety however, because he stopped in front of me just as I was fastening the buttons on my jeans. He dipped his head, catching my gaze from under his lashes.

“Hey,” he said calmly, cautiously. The candor of his voice was smooth like chocolate, and just as sinful. The desire to look at him was too hard to fight, and I lost the battle.

“What?” I asked, a lot harsher than I’d meant to. I did not want to see the regret, or the nonchalance on this beautiful man’s face as I suffered my own torment. Not when I was spiraling inside over everything that had transpired between us.

The karaoke, the drinks, the sex, the aftermath where we seemed to dance in twilight, buried in the depths of one another for a perfect, blissful moment until we fell asleep.

Together.

“You okay?” Weston asked, his eyebrows furrowed.

An overwhelming desire to soothe the man broiled beneath the surface, despite the fact I felt as if maybe I could use some soothing of my own. The sight of his gaze elicited the truth from my lips. Obeying this man came as second nature, and I knew that should scare me.

So why didn’t it?

“I’m fine. I just... don’t normally do this... sort of thing,” I admitted honestly.

Weston’s eyebrows knit together and he looked utterly confused at my words. Like I was speaking French or something.

“What do you mean?” he questioned, legitimately awestruck.

“This,” I motioned around the room, between the two of us, who were standing only a hair’s breadth away from one another.

When did we get so close...

“The one-night stand thing. I don’t normally sleep with men I just met. I, uh… I mean, we, uh... I don’t even know if you’re—”

“If I’m what?” He looked back at me with confusion.

I could feel my cheeks flush with embarrassment. I forced the word that was on the top of my tongue, out, knowing I was about to completely shatter everything and make it awkward as hell.

“Um... clean.”

I watched Weston’s eyes widen, as understanding must have dawned on him. He ran a hand over his face, breathing out a sigh.

Fuck, that does it. I’ve officially ruined the moment.

“I can assure you I take my health more seriously than most,” Weston bit out defensively. His response and tone made me feel like a complete idiot, realizing how shitty I must have sounded, how accusatory my tone was, and before I could apologize, tell Weston I wasn’t trying to be a dick, that I just wanted some reassurance, he looked me dead in the eyes and said, “It’s just sex, Cade. It’s not like we’re getting married, or anything.” His tone was even, simple, nonchalant. And all at once, the illusion was broken, along with my weary heart.

Of course, he wouldn’t understand. I’m probably just guy number whatever in his travels.

“Obviously,” I said, turning away from Weston’s smooth, jeweled gaze, feeling like an absolute pile of shit. My head was throbbing, all fantasies and dreams dissolved into thin air.

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