Page 35 of Off Balance

He lets go of his forehead to wave me off. "Nothing. They didn’tdoanything. They were just talking shit, and I got upset. I looked for Emile, but I don't remember much of anything after that. I have flashes of being in a dark hallway that was spinning, and I fell?" He huffs out a heavy breath. "That's all I can remember,” he says shakily, then groans.

Tentatively, I reach a hand over and rub his back. "It's okay. You're okay. But maybe we should go to a hospital or something to get you checked out?"

His head snaps up. "What? Why?"

"I don't know how to say this, but I think you might have been drugged."

"Ya think?"

Now it's my turn to rear back in confusion. The sarcasm in his tone suggests he came to the same conclusion, but how can he be so cavalier about it?"

Cam looks up at the ceiling. "Let's just say I used to drink a lot more than I do now. Like, a lot more. Empty calories aren’t the only reason I stopped."

"Cam—"

"Don't," he says flatly, pointing a finger at me. "Don't you dare judge or pity me."

"I'm not?—"

"I've made questionable choices in the past, but they were mine to make and I own them."

Cam stands, wrapping his arms around his chest. I get up, my erection thankfully only at half-mast after that depressing conversation, and pull a t-shirt from a basket of clean laundry.

I hand him the shirt. "I wouldn't judge you. And I'd be a hypocrite if I did."

Cam scoffs and takes the shirt from me, pulling it over his head. "Oh yeah, I'm sure you've made tons of unhealthy, impulsive decisions in your day."

"In my day?" I repeat incredulously.

I'm distracted for a moment by the sight of Cam in my shirt. I thought the boxers were bad, but somehow, he looks even sexier despite being more covered up. The shirt is huge on him, coming down to mid-thigh and falling off one shoulder. Suddenly that small shoulder, that handful of smooth skin, is the most appetizing thing I've ever seen, and I'm a starving man.

"How old are you, anyway?" The words are meant to tease, but the husky tone of his voice does more damage than the words themselves.

Am I imagining it, or did he just take a step forward?

"Forty-two."

He hums noncommittally and definitely takes another slow step forward. It’s like he's stalking prey. My cock starts to fill again, remembering what had it so interested this morning.

Pretending not to notice his advancement, I move to the other side of the bed, putting the king-sized mattress between us. I bend down and pick up a pillow, busying myself by straightening the bed like it's something I do regularly.

Single-minded Cam isn't to be deterred, though. He steps up onto the mattress and walks across it, coming to stand directly in front of me. The platform under the mattress elevates him by a couple feet, so he's now a head taller than me rather than vice versa. His hands smooth over my head and land on my shoulders.

My words come out in a hoarse whisper. "What are you doing?"

"I’d like to thank you for taking care of me."

Clearing my throat, I shake my head and fervently ignore how my body reacts to what he's saying.

"That's not—that's not necessary, Cam."

"Why not? Because you're 'straight'?"

I don’t know how to answer that. I've yet to process the thoughts I've been having, or what they mean. I refuse to think about it too hard. It doesn't matter, because this can't happen.

"Cam—"

"Answer me, Dom. Do you not find me attractive because you’re straight?"

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