Page 34 of Off Balance

I'm sleep deprived. And possibly depraved. There's no excuse for these thoughts, or for touching him, however innocently, without his permission.

I back away slowly, thinking I might go downstairs and nap on Dwayne's office sofa until he gets in. But Cam reaches for my hand, pulling it back to his face. My palm slides against his jaw again, and he nuzzles into it. My body tenses with fear and apprehension, unsure what to do now. Do I pull my hand back, or let him have it and hope he lets go soon? He presses his face into my palm when I flex my fingers.

Sigh.Well, I guess that's his now.

Without jostling the bed too much, or so much as attempting to pull away from him, I try to find a comfortable spot. I end up sitting with my back against the wall, one hand crossed over my chest to cradle Cam's face. It's not the most comfortable position, but it's the closest I've come to laying down since the night before.

When I next crack my eyes open, it's too warm in the apartment. I'm still leaning against the wall, but I've scrunched down enough to give me a wicked crick in my neck. My hand is now on the back of Cam's head, holding him against my torso. The rest of his body is glued to my side, one leg crooked up over my thigh, way too close to?—

Jesus Christ,what the hell is wrong with me?! I don't remember the last time I had a morning wood this bad. That thing definitely can't be blamed on having to pee.

Shit shit shit.What do I do?!

Cam stirs, and I freeze in panic. Once it's clear he's not fully awake, I make a plan to dislodge myself before this gets more awkward than it already is. I have no idea what Cam remembers from last night, and I'm sure he's going to be upset about the turn of events. Not to mention the shock of waking up in someone else's bedroom after being stripped, showered, and put to bed while you were unconscious. A massive boner is not going to help make the situation any better.

I scoot a bit lower and attempt to gently lift his head so I can slip out sideways.

Only as soon as I move, so does he. The leg he has thrown over my thigh hitches up higher, and he snakes an arm around the tops of my thighs, latching himself firmer against me.

I suck in a harsh breath and bite back a pained groan when his forearm rubs the underside of my erection, pressing it against my hip.

Cam twitches and blinks his eyes open. I stay completely still, afraid to even breathe. I contemplate closing my eyes and pretending I'm still asleep, but my gaze is glued to him the way onlookers watch the aftermath of a car accident. I can't look away.

He blinks rapidly. His eyebrows twitch and then furrow slightly, creating an adorable dimple in the center of his forehead. His head moves a little, then he twitches back, eyes flashing wide with surprise before he schools his expression. Lifting his head, he examines the state of our bodies, no doubt noticing his state of undress. I'm only wearing a pair of thin cotton sleep shorts, so I'm not much better off.

Finally, Cam's gaze lifts to mine.

"Good morning," I say, wondering what time it is. It’s probably still early. Judging by my sore throat and dry eyes, I don't think I dozed for very long. And I have a feeling Dwayne would have called or come knocking if we didn't show up for our workout routine. Some of the guys have been joining in on Cam's circuit training and yoga stretches, so he'd definitely be missed if he skipped a day without telling anyone. "How are you feeling?"

"Foggy," he answers. "My head is sore, but nothing else on me is, so I'm going to guess I didn't try to takethatthing for a ride."

I choke on my own spit. "W-what?" I sputter.

"I mean, typically when one wakes up mostly naked next to one of those," he gestures towards the tent in my pants with his eyes, "it means something happened. But that something wasn't my throat or my ass, because I'm pretty sure I'd feel it."

The look of horror on my face must be enough to answer him. He sits up, half laughing and half moaning. "Oh yeah, I forgot. You'restraight." He eyes me with a weird expression.

"Right," I say, pulling my legs up to hide the offending appendage.

“Riiight,” he repeats, drawing out the word sarcastically. "So, what exactly did happen?"

I sigh and try to convey as much support and comfort as I can through my expression. "You, uh, had too much to drink, I guess. You called me, but I think you dropped your phone. The next thing I know, I got a text from your number with an address, so I came right away. You were passed out outside the bar." It takes everything in me not to start ranting about how useless his stupid boyfriend is.

"That doesn't make any sense," Cam says, shaking his head in confusion. "I had barely a few sips of one drink."

That has me sitting up straighter. What does he mean he only had a few sips?

"Where are my clothes?"

"In the bathroom. You threw up and your clothes were soaked in alcohol like you'd spilled something. Or a lot of somethings. You really only had one drink?”

“Not even one. I didn’t finish it.” Cam groans and puts his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes with his palms. "Why can't I remember anything?"

"What's the last thing you remember?"

"Being at the party. I was in a group of maybe ten others. Someone passed out a round of drinks to do a toast. Then people got weird, and I think I told them off? I remember I wanted to leave. I didn't feel good, and I thought I was having a panic attack because the assholes I work with?—"

My entire body bristles, every muscle in my body twitching to rectify the dejected look in his eyes. "What did they do?"

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