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If Dylan wasn’t careful, this entire thing would blow up in his face.
Chapter 18
An urgent text from Chase had Dylan buried in emails on his laptop. Felicity was snoring from the air mattress nearby.
Footsteps shuffled from the hallway bedroom, and a callused hand stroked down Dylan’s neck. “Hey.” Derek’s freshly showered scent threatened to overpower Dylan’s self-control.
“You’re working?”
Dylan nodded.
Derek’s thumbs rubbed a few knots from his tense shoulders. Every muscle had been locked up for hours. That kiss had been scrolling through his brain so much that he could barely concentrate on his work scrolling on the screen.
“Everything okay? Want to share the bed tonight? It’s late.”
“Ack. I’m sorry. Everything’s totally fine. One sec.” Chase’s message was a notification that Dylan had made an inconsequential but not unnoticed error on a deliverable. Despite all the therapy, mistakes derailed his mood. He typed out a couple more words to close out the email and then sent the fixed file. On the subject of mistakes…
Felicity’s appearance had given Dylan just long enough to overthink about what had almost happened between the two men. And how it might be the mistake that ruined all his progress with his mental health and his acceptance of his ADHD. But the potential mistake’s hands were doing things to his neck muscles that felt like wizardry.
He closed his laptop and turned to face Derek. “My sister’s staying here… so I just don’t feel like it’s a good idea to, uh, you know?” His attempt at funny and casual sounded more like frustrated and constipated. The back of his neck boiled beneath Derek’s touch.
Derek wore that ribbed blue tank top and a pair of those fitted jogger sweats he’d been wearing to sleep. The clothes showed off his shoulders and ass in a way that made it hard for Dylan to avoid looking at all.
Self-control.
Derek’s hands slid away. “I really was just talking about sleeping. Next to me, yes. Gus will be there too. Just for the record, I always meant sleep in the literal sense, not the euphemism sense. That’s why I said, ‘it’s late,’ but I guess that could’ve been clearer. I have to get up early to work again. And I wouldn’t proposition you three feet away from your sleeping sister. Flirt, yes; proposition, never.”
Felicity snored loudly and then rolled over.
Derek lowered his voice and spoke directly into Dylan’s ear. “I feel like you’re upset about something?”
“I’m not upset. Can we please talk about this tomorrow? I’m just really tired. Work stress.”
He was also confused and sexually frustrated to the point of spontaneous combustion, but saying that out loud probably wouldn’t be a good idea. His hyperfixation brain had launched him into a hyperloop round trip between arousal and anxiety. Jesus, he was a mess. This was why Dylan had avoided relationships since Chase. His mind seemed to crave the pain, like the masochistic suck of air over a cavity.
“Okay.” Derek’s hand rested an inch from Dylan’s shoulder. “I know I was a dick to you for a while, but… if you need to talk about something, even work stuff… uh… just let me know. But just come to bed with me if you want to. If you’re that tired it’d probably be better for you to be in an actual bed…”
Dylan’s stomach needed to cool it with the damn butterflies. Hearing Derek say “Come to bed with me” was too much for him.
“Dylan?”
It was only the second time Derek had said his first name. The butterflies were swarming now. “Um—kay.”
Derek’s eyebrows furrowed. “Um… Kay?”
“Kay. As in kay, that sounds good. Bed. Good. Sure. Just have a little more work to do.”
Derek opened his mouth to say something else, but then closed it again and walked away. “Good night, Gallagher.”
“Night.”
The door closed behind him, which left Dylan alone to analyze all the ways he could’ve handled that better.
Chapter 19
DYLAN
When you said you liked my mattress, I set a price alert. they’re on sale with expedited shipping.