Page 23 of The Chance

But then it all went to shit in a hot second and I’m still reeling from the deep dive he took for reasons I’ve yet to figure out.

Though … I find that I don’t hatethis.

Him leaning on me because he needs it.

From me.

I can’t remember the last time someone needed …me.

My chest pings yet again, that tingling on the back of my neck sticking to me like glue.

When I reach the bed, I have to practically peel him away.

“You need pj’s.”

Mac drops to his feet and starts stripping.

He’s standing in his briefs, ones with little rainbow-printed eggplants on them, and stares longingly at the bed.

If he didn’t look so lost, I’d laugh at the briefs covering his tight ass.

They’re him.

And they’re cute.

Sighing, I plant a hand between his shoulder blades and give him a push. He goes easily, falling face first into the mattress with a groan.

Tingly.

Mac climbs up the bed to lay the right way and tucks his feet under the covers, then looks up at me with a glint of expectance in his eye.

He lifts the blanket in invitation.

I bite the inside of my lip.

If I say yes, does this cross the line?

“You coming?” he asks, hopefulness thick in his voice and I’m nodding before my brain can catch up.

Fuck it. Can’t be worse than what we’ve already done.

Reaching back between my shoulder blades, his eyes locked on mine, I grip my shirt and pull. It flutters to the floor as I place my radio and holster on the nightstand. Undo my belt, letting the jeans drop with a thunk around boots that I toe off.

There’s a heat in the way his sight breaks from mine, dropping to the boxers still around my waist as I step up to the bed.

But then he dives into a prone position and rolls onto his side, facing away from me in the middle of the bed.

I chuckle at the ghost of an almost grin I catch before he buries his face in the pillow and climb in behind him, keeping a few inches of space between us as the blanket settles over us.

Rolling to reach for the remote he keeps on the nightstand, Mac moves with me, his ass hitting my hip.

“Oops,” he deadpans, and I laugh.

“Such an accident.”

“It was,” he murmurs, stifling a yawn. “I was just following the heat.”

As if he called the shakes up by will alone, he trembles against me.

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