Page 39 of Waiting for a Prince
Fuck. Mark rarely slept this late.
Thank God it’s Sunday.
He yawned and stretched his body under the sheet—and froze when he came into contact with a warm, solid body which definitely hadn’t been there when he’d fallen asleep. He jerked away, rolling onto his back, and stared in disbelief.
Sam lay beside him in the bed, his head nestled in the pillows, eyes closed. Mark caught his breath. Sam’s upper body was bare. Mark lifted the sheet carefully and peered beneath it. At least he’d kept his briefs on.
Mark’s brain went into overdrive. What the hell was Sam doing in his bed, and how long had he been there? He sat up, all sleep driven from him.
“Morning.”
He jumped. Sam gazed up at him, his expression watchful. He gave a sleepy blink.
Mark pulled the sheet up around him, dimly aware of the absurdity of this action. The man had seen him naked on the beachtwice, for goodness’ sake.
“What are you doing in my bed, Sam?” He kept his tone even.
Sam opened his eyes wide. “The way you’re reacting, anyone would think you’d never had a guy in bed with you before.”
Mark gave him a meaningful stare. “That might be because I’ve neverhada guy in bed with me before.”
And what does that say about my sex life?
He frowned. “I know I put away a lot of booze last night, but I don’t recall asking you to come to bed with me.” The state he’d been in, anything was possible. And just because he didn’t remember saying anything resembling that, didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.
Sam flushed. “You didn’t. I… I woke up a couple of hours ago and I… I didn’t want to be alone.” His voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m sorry if I did something wrong. I just assumed…”
Mark reached across the sheet and grasped Sam’s hand. “Really, it’s okay. It was just a bit of a shock, waking up to find I had a bed partner.”
A bit of a shockwas an understatement.
He tilted his head. “Do you often climb into bed with your friends?”
That flush deepened. “Not really. Besides, there’s only one person I’d class as a friend, and that’s you.”
Mark blinked. “I’d have thought that would be Rebecca. You know—your girlfriend?” He kept his tone light, but he had a list of questions that was growing longer by the minute.
Sam paled. “Oh fuck.” His eyes dropped to the sheet which covered him. Mark pulled back his hand and threw off the sheet. He got out of bed, picked up his robe from where he’d dropped it earlier, and pulled it on. He stood at the foot of the bed and gazed at Sam.
“I think you and I need to talk, because right now, I’m confused. I’m going to make some coffee.” He turned and exited the room. Inside his head was a mass of tumbling, convoluted thoughts.
Last night had fuckinghurt.
He accused me of manipulating the situation.Sam had been the epitome of the indignant straight guy.But a straight guy doesn’t climb into bed with his gay friend, does he?And judging by Sam’s reaction just now, there was more to this than not wanting to be alone.
Mark switched on the kettle and dumped coffee into two mugs, his thoughts never straying far from the man in his bed.
The one thing that refused to leave him was the thought that Sam had looked damn good in it.
From behind him, he heard movement. He looked over his shoulder to see Sam pulling on his jeans, his face still flushed. Mark turned back to his task. When he picked up the two mugs and went toward the sofa, he found Sam sitting on the edge of the seat cushion, his torso and feet bare, elbows resting on his knees, his head in his hands. Mark set the mug down in front of him and then sat at the opposite end of the sofa.
A little distance was required right now.
Mark sipped his coffee, wincing as the hot liquid burnt his lip. The silence spun out between them until it was almost tangible. Sam wouldn’t look at him.
Finally, Mark couldn’t stand it any longer.
“All right, talk to me. That’s what you came here for, after all, wasn’t it?”
