Page 39 of Off Balance

Fuck, I'm so stupid.

This happens every time. It's why I only used to rely on random hookups, so I didn't have to see them afterwards or worry about the inevitable rejection. Emile was the first guy in a long time to see something in me, to want more than a quick hookup. He saw my talent and wanted it more than he wanted my body. At least at first, but he stuck around, and that's what really counts.

Shame heats my skin. All I'd wanted was to make myself feel better, and it worked for a moment, but now I have to live with the consequences of what I've done. I've cheated on the only man to stay, and I've coerced a good man into doing something he clearly regrets.

Clearing my throat, I clean myself up the best I can with the already saturated towel and jump down from the counter. Dom backs up, but I'm still far too close to him. I have to crane my neck back to look him in the eye. Plastering a reassuring smile on my face, I pat his chest, resisting the urge to bury my face there and hope he does something else stupid, like hold me. I've already pushed him far enough today. There'd be no coming back from that.

"Thanks for taking care of me," I say airily. As if this whole thing was transactional, a service in exchange for a kind deed.

I don't bother grabbing my soiled clothes from the bathroom. My wallet and keys are sitting on the kitchen island, less than two feet from where my ass was planted against the polished concrete minutes ago. I head straight to the studio, locking the door behind me. I know Dom has a key, so he can get in if he wants to. Dwayne told me he gave him a spare in case I needed it, and I know it's what he's been using to sneak out after watching me dance at night. I should put a stop to that.

That’s a problem for another day. Right now, I need a moment to lick my wounds and put myself back together.

CHAPTER 10

DOM

I watch Cam's mask slip into place, and my stomach drops with each step he takes to escape my presence. He practically runs from my apartment, not even bothering to pull anything on over the soiled boxers he's wearing. The slide of the studio door is at least somewhat comforting. He hasn't gone far, or doing a walk of shame in my underwear past my brother and all the patrons of the gym downstairs.

How am I going to fix this? How do I apologize for taking advantage of his moment of weakness? I'm not a mindless animal, as much as I felt like one the second I felt his hardness pressing into me. At first, I was in awe at having his skin under my palms. And he encouraged me, pressing my hands harder into his body, guiding them where he wanted them to be—or maybe where he thought I wanted them to be.

"Thanks for taking care of me."

Did he think I needed him to give me something in return for taking care of him last night? Did I do or say something that made him feel like he owed me anything at all?

Scowling, I look down at my cock, which still hasn’t softened all the way. Hell, it hasn't been soft since I met Cam. I'm so fucked in the head.

This is your fault.

Cam probably thought he had to do something about the monster erection he woke up next to.

Rubbing my palms into my eyes, I run my hands over my head, fingers touching the same spot at my nape that Cam had gripped to pull me closer. It felt like he wanted it, but maybe that was wishful thinking. Why the hell would a young, beautiful thing like him want me? I'm a has been. A washed-up old guy lusting over someone nearly half my age. I should be ashamed of myself—Iamashamed of myself.

He deserves better than my calloused hands on his perfect, smooth skin. Better than anything I could ever give him. Better even than anything I could have given him when I was young and on top of the world.

I can't take back what I did this morning. I'm not sure how to even begin making it right.

But I'll start by repairing some of the damage fucking Emile Alistar has done to him. Because Cam damn sure as well deserves better than that sorry excuse for a man.

It's a couple of days earlier than I normally drop off my laundry, but I'd like to return Cam's clothes to him, clean and without the reminders of his horrific night. I still need to convince him to go to a hospital to get drug tested. Fuck, should he even be alone right now? What if it's still in his system and he passes out or something?

God fucking damn it, what if he was still under the influence?! Why didn't I consider that?!

My stomach lurches.

Pulling on the first pair of sweatpants I find, and the shirt Cam discarded earlier, I grab the key to the studio and run after him. The way I should have the moment he tried to leave. I should never have let him out of my sight.I should never have touched him.

Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck

I run through the studio and burst into the bathroom, forgetting to knock. Cam gasps in surprise from his place on the shower floor.

"Shit, Cam. Are you—fuck, I'm sorry." Why am I such a fucking idiot when it comes to him? The shower walls are frosted glass, just like the one in my apartment, but I still turn to give him privacy even though I just busted in here like some kind of police raid. "I shouldn't have?—"

"Please don't."

"—let you leave."

"What?" We both say at once.

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