Page 74 of If Only In Our Dreams

“You deserve to be treated well,” I replied.

He didn’t look like he believed me, but he didn’t argue. That still felt like progress.

Ben’s bed was somehow even comfier with him in it despite how much space he took up. He was a cuddler. Which maybe should not have surprised me? But it totally did. Ben also was hot as a furnace—and grabby as hell, even when unconscious.

We’d gone to bed at either ends of the mattress. My fault, definitely. Ben had watched me with those serious golden eyes and I’d chickened the fuck out. Only that hadn’t ended up mattering, thank God, because an hour after I’d fallen asleep—I was starting to think Ben was a miracle worker—he octopused that big-ass body around me and woke me up.

“Mmm,” I whined into the pillow in complaint.

There was no reply.

Half asleep and groggy, I’d peeped one eye open to get a good look at my assailant. Ben was snoring beside me, drooling onto his pillow, his arm and leg slung over my body like I was the teddy bear I accused him of being. I could only see one of his tattoos from this angle, which was a shame.

I swear to god, when I realized that he had some, I’d nearly combusted right then and there.

Because being a hot doctor with a swimmer’s body was one thing. Being a hot doctor with a swimmer’s body andtattoos? Another thing entirely. They were swirling black ink and delicate lines. As floral as the undernotes of his cologne.

Ben made a cute little snort-y noise, sniffed, then went right back to snoring. He was heavy as hell. And sweaty. But in a good way. The kind of way that reminded me of sex and bare skin, and cocks.

I fell back to sleep quickly—again, a miracle—and the next time I woke I realized I had…maybe a bit of a problem.

If you could call it that.

I was flat on my belly, one of Ben’s pillows hugged to my chest. His breath was hot at the back of my neck, his entire considerable weight plastered to my back. Ben slept mostly naked. Which was possibly the most amazing thing I’d ever discovered.

The only thing he wore were these frankly slutty pair of threadbare gray sweatpants that had a dick print obscene enough he belonged in prison. When he’d walked out of the bathroom after getting ready for bed, I’m pretty sure I’d swallowed my tongue.

“I can put a shirt on,” is what he’d said, as if his dick wasn’t taunting me, lying there all pretty and thick and long andyummy. I’d been half-tempted to fall to my knees, pull his pants down, and suck him as far down as I could.

But I’d been tired and full of wine and dinner, so I hadn’t.

Other than being revealing as hell, Ben’s pants seemed to have a second major flaw. They were so thin he might as well have been naked.

Actually, calling that a flaw was maybe too harsh.

And also inaccurate.

Because I had pretty much zero complaints right now about that. Especially considering the fact that Ben’s dick was pushing hard into my ass, and I could practically feel every ridge and dip of it, the fabric was so threadbare.

“Christ on a cracker,” I muttered into the mattress as Ben mouthed at the back of my neck, his cock wedged into the crack of my ass. I was wearing a pair of his boxers, and a hoodie that had rucked all the way up to my armpits, so there was pretty much nothing in the way of all that hot, hot skin smashed to my own.

He was still asleep.

I knew he was still asleep.

But I was currently being squashed into the bed and could not move whatsoever.

Not that I really wanted to. I had a god of a man grinding against me, and I wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to memorize what that felt like. Still though…Ben was my friend.

My friend.

And while sleepy Ben fucking me was seriously the hottest thing ever—new kink unlocked—I wasn’t going to take advantage of him like that. Not without consent first.

“Ben,” my voice was crackly raw with both sleep and arousal. “Ben.”

“Mmm,” Ben whined, teeth sinking into my skin, his tongue liquid hot. Jesus fuck. Electricity shot up my spine.

“Ben,” I tried again. “Benito. Beniciano. Bento box. Eggs and bake-ben. Cornish game Ben. A-Ben-Ca-Da-Bruh.” The last one seemed to do the trick, because Ben stopped grinding. His teeth released my nape and he groaned, somehow sinking even deeper into me, his nose squishing into my skin. “You awake?” I asked, even though it was obvious.

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