Page 96 of Bloom: Part 1

The chair scraped on the floor as Bloom got to his feet and walked over to me. “So you hate me now? Between almost killing someone in front of you and wetting your bed, I can’t even say I blame you.”

Frowning, I cupped his face. “What are you talking about? I could never hate you.” I settled my lips over his, reassuring him.

I’d already made my peace with what he was, and acknowledging it felt damn good.

26

LOGAN

As I parked in the staff facility, Bloom drove to the general parking lot, but I asked him to wait for me at the entrance. Normally, I would take the corridor meant for staff only. It ensured quicker access to my office without colleagues or families of patients who demanded answers to cases I didn’t know about yet stopping me.

I’d arrived early to catch up on what I might have missed during my absence yesterday, when I’d taken the day off to spend with Bloom. We’d lazed around the house, gone out for dinner at a cozy Italian restaurant, and watched a spy thriller at the movie theater. Crowe had checked up on Bloom like he’d said but hadn’t stayed for long. The man had looked so tortured that I’d done something against my nature and told him, if he wanted to talk, he could call me. I was under no illusion his anxiety had anything to do with the man he’d killed. From his brief conversation with Bloom I’d overheard, he was worried about his friend in rehab.

When I approached, Bloom pushed off from the wall. Last night had been much better for both of us. I had to guide himback to bed only once. While he dressed this morning in his usual ensemble—black on top of black with chains paired with more black—I’d watched him. I’d never been more turned on than the sight of him adding layers of clothes to cover himself up.

His movements were so graceful, so measured, without him having a clue how much his gestures made me want him. When he’d dragged his jeans over his plump cheeks, I’d been on the verge of fucking him.

At his mischievous grin, I shook my head.

He scowled. “What?”

“I know that look.”

“You can’t possibly know what I was thinking.”

“I don’t need to know exactly what. It always results in the same—trouble.”

He gasped. “Have I not been good these last couple of days with you?”

I smiled. He’d behaved well, but then, the more time we spent together, the less anxious he seemed.

“You have. You might even deserve a reward.” I held the door open for him. He slipped under my arm, but not without touching my thigh.

“I know how you can reward me.” He made an obscene gesture with his tongue and fingers. I glanced around me to see if anybody had noticed. It didn’t look like it, thankfully, all too caught up in their worries and tasks.

“Behave,” I said, trying to keep a stern face. “And that’s not a reward. I’m happy to do it.”

Who wouldn’t be? Whenever I played with his hole, he transformed into a little slut. And while he’d turned his nose up at bottoming in the past, he now was always eager for it. I woke up from a nap yesterday with his bare ass in my face and his plea to “do that thing with your tongue.”

“Don’t make me think about it, or I’ll be stopping by your office after my session with Dr. Simms.”

“You can drop by, but no more than ten minutes. I can’t have you distracting me while I’m at work.”

He pouted. “Fine. I have to check in at the clubhouse anyway.”

I touched his shoulder at the intersection of the corridor where we would go our separate ways. “Are you sure you don’t want to sleep at the clubhouse tonight? I won’t be getting off work until seven.” The idea of him being alone with his nightmares for so long unsettled me. I had no choice, though, since I had to do my job, but guilt gnawed at me that I wouldn’t be there for him.

“I’ll be fine.”

“And you’ll sleep downstairs just like we talked about?”

“Logan, I’m not a child.” He let out a frustrated huff. “I’ve been taking care of myself before you.”

I took his chin in my hand. “I’m sorry if me caring makes you feel that way. It’s not my intention to treat you like a child, but I want you to be safe, and I’ll always do whatever it takes to make sure you are.”

The hard glint in his eyes and the stubborn clench of his teeth eased. “I’ll sleep downstairs.” He pushed himself up on his toes and pressed his lips to mine. I stiffened, a warning blaring in my head that I was at work and this was inappropriate. But then I gave in and kissed him back.

He looked pleased when we separated. Footsteps echoed down the corridor, so I released him. Dr. Simms rounded the corner, eyebrows pinched.

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