Dante rubbed Sid’s exposed arms, hoping his hands weren’t too cold. “Nothing’s wrong. I just needed some air.”
Sid blinked, awareness creeping in slowly enough to let Dante know that he’d dashed from his bed in the middle of the night while still mostly asleep. “You’ve never done that before.”
“How d’you know?”
“Because I know when you’re there. I can feel it.”
“Is that what woke you up? That you couldn’t feel me anymore?”
“I—” Sid’s gaze finally cleared and darted around, taking in their surroundings and the fact that he was outside in nothing but sweats and his glorious skin. “Fuck. I don’t know.”
His death grip on Dante fell away. Dante took advantage of the shift in position and slipped an arm around Sid’s waist. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
Sid’s frown deepened, but he didn’t protest as Dante steered him towards the bungalow and inside.
The door closed behind them. Sid drifted towards the bedroom, leaving wet footprints in his wake. Dante’s heart went with him, and his boots seemed to leave his feet of their own accord and find their place tucked away by the door.
In socks and his old jeans, Dante padded through the bungalow, ditching his rain-damp T-shirt as he went. His skin tingled with the prospect of stretching out beside Sid, soaking in his warmth, but he was at peace with the likelihood that Sid was already asleep again. More than that, he’d take Sid any way he could have him, and in bed with him while he slept was its own brand of wonderful.
Sid wasn’t asleep, though. He was sitting on the edge of his bed, still frowning.
He looked up as Dante ghosted into the room. “Are you okay?”
“Are you?” Dante countered. Had they had this conversation already today? Somehow, he couldn’t remember. “Your legs didn’t get too cold, did they?”
“Fuck my legs.”
Dante raised a brow and came to stand between the legs in question. “That’s an interesting proposition.”
“Very funny.”
“Am I?”
“No.”
“How about funny looking?” Dante gripped Sid’s chin and coaxed him to meet his gaze.
Sid grinned a little. “There’s nothing funny about how you look.”
“Even with this overgrown barnet?”
“Your hair?” Sid reached up and wove his fingers into the wavy locks at the nape of Dante’s neck. “I fucking love your hair.”
He pulled Dante down for a kiss, a gentle brush of lips that lit Dante on fire, but it was over far too soon.
Sid drew back. “Are you going to tell me what’s bothering you?”
“Nothing—” Again, Dante choked on the lie and shook his head. “I can’t.”
“You don’t trust me?”
“It’s not that.”
“Then what?”
Dante suppressed a sigh and knocked his forehead against Sid’s. His body was aflame with desire, but his soul cried out to open up and dump his whole life on Sid. But he didn’t. Hecouldn’t. Not yet. “Doyoutrustme?” he whispered.
Sid’s honest eyes widened like they were welcoming Dante home. “You keep telling me I shouldn’t, but I do.”