and dropped to my knees. I wanted to taste him again.
Instead, I hurried to the bed and pulled the covers over me, hiding how much I wanted him. When he got into bed, I turned to face the wall.
Neither of us said a word. I lay there, muscles tense, cock throbbing. I drew in his scent with every breath. The room had felt warm before; now it felt oppressive. I considered getting out of bed to turn down the heat, but I stayed where I was, not moving. I didn’t want him to know how badly he affected me.
Eventually, I drifted off to sleep, but at some point, I jolted awake. At first, I didn’t know why, then Giorgio cried out again.
I turned over, frantically trying to figure out what was going on. He seemed to still be asleep, but he was tossing his head back and forth. He’d kicked the covers off, and they were bunched up at the end of the bed.
“No!” he called and pushed the air as if trying to get someone off him.
I scooted to the very edge of the bed, afraid he might hit me accidentally.
“Giorgio!” He didn’t respond.
I said his name again louder. Still no response.
“Wake up. It’s okay.”
Finally, he opened his eyes and looked at me. At first, he didn’t seem to recognize me. He glanced around the room as if trying to get his bearings.
“Giorgio, it’s Lane. We’re at the cabin.” He looked at me, then down at the bed, then back at me.
“Right. Shit. I woke you. I’m sorry. I’ll go sleep in a chair.”
I moved closer to him and laid a hand on his arm. “You don’t have to do that. Are you all right?”
“I’m fine. I… I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay. Would you like some water or something?”
He shook his head and turned away from me, curling into the fetal position. I slipped from the bed, used the bathroom, then went to the kitchen and got myself a glass of water. When I’d finished it, I got one for him. I could tell he didn’t want me taking care of him, but if I set it on the nightstand, he could choose to drink it or not.
He didn’t move when I first came back into the room, and I wondered if he’d already fallen back asleep. I set the water on his nightstand and started to walk around to my side of the bed. The covers rustled, and I turned to see him sipping from the glass.
“Thanks,” he muttered, barely glancing at me.
Was he embarrassed that he’d had a nightmare? There was no reason for him to be, but he liked control, and I doubted he wanted to show anyone what some would perceive as a weakness.
I climbed back into bed and lay on my side facing him. I tried to ignore the rigid line of his back and his shallow breathing, but I couldn’t do it. I reached out and laid a hand against his spine.
“What are you doing?”
“Relax. Whenever I had a bad dream, my mom would come in and rub my back to help me get back to sleep. Close your eyes and take some slow breaths.” I thought he would protest, but he didn’t, so I began to caress his back, running my hand up and down the length of his spine.
The action was supposed to be about comfort, something I might do for a friend, but his skin was so warm, and I’d been teased by the smell of him for so long as I’d tried to fall asleep that the simple touch had me longing to bury my face against his neck and push my fingers into his hair. I slid my hand down his back again. When I reached the waistband of his briefs, I had to fight the urge to let my fingers slide underneath.
He grabbed my hand, and I thought I’d gone too far.
But he tugged until I laid my hand against his chest, then he placed his on top of it. I slid closer, pressing myself against his back. I had no doubt he could feel how hard I was. It was all I could do not to flex my hips to find the friction I craved.
“I can’t ever fall back asleep when I dream like that.”
He tugged on my hand again. This time he brought my fingers to his lips and slid his tongue up and down the length of my index finger before drawing