Page 11 of If Cain Were Able

“Ouch!” he hisses, making me pull back.

Shit.

I have to be careful. His incision is healed completely, and he has good bone growth in his sternum, but it’ll be tender for another couple of months or so.

“Your bedroom. Where is it?” I ask, pulling him from the wall. He needs to lie down. Just this once, I’ll make pleasing him my top priority because I know he’s still healing, and I suspect that once I get him off, he’ll be right back under my spell.

“Who said anyth⁠—”

I reach down and grab his balls, squeezing until he moans.

“Where is your fucking bedroom, Patrick?”

“Down the hall on the left,” he whispers. He’s never been good at telling me no, and I plan to use that to my advantage.

I drag him with me through the hall of his own house until I find the room and kick the door closed behind us. I quickly shed my sport coat and the T-shirt underneath. Already tasting my victory, my hands fly to the button on my pants, and Patrick’s gaze is locked on them, waiting for me to bare my cock.

It’s too soon to engage in the only kind of fucking he and I know how to do, so I resign myself to frotting and coming all over his stomach, because even a blow job on his part is too much right now.

“Your turn,” I tell him, stepping out of my boxer briefs, my cock hard and leaking precum.

Patrick reaches for it, no doubt wanting a taste of the only flavor that ever satisfied him, but I bat his hand away.

“No chance in hell,” I tell him. I have to leave him wanting more. “Get naked.”

He undresses slowly, and I begrudgingly help because he’s taking too fucking long. As soon as he’s naked, I grab his shaft and begin to stroke.

His hands fly to my shoulders in an effort to steady himself. His touch is just as electrifying now as it’s always been.

“Lie down.”

“I can’t,” he says, making me halt my movements on his cock.

“What do you mean you can’t?” I ask, slipping into surgeon mode. “How have you been sleeping?”

“Well, I don’t get a whole lot of that, but it’s still uncomfortable to lie flat, so I sleep sitting propped up on pillows.”

Oh. That’s normal.

“Fine. Then lie like that,” I say impatiently.

Patrick climbs onto the bed, careful not to put too much of his body weight through his arms.

Once he’s settled, he finds me staring at him, my brain struggling to process what I’m about to do. In a statement much bolder than his normal responses, he looks at me with his eyes wiped of emotion and says, “Well? Did you fly all the way here just to tuck me in?”

Chapter 8

Patrick

Ican’t deny that I want him. It’d be pointless anyway because we both know I’m going to give him exactly what he flew all the way down here for.

Every cell in my body has craved Cain Rosemont since the second I laid eyes on him in my statistics class our freshman year of college. Hell, he’s the man who made me realize I was bisexual in the first place.

But this time, I know better than to get too attached.

I think about the pictures of Emilia in the drawer next to my bed, and sadness courses through my veins. Then I think about the pictures of Taylor underneath those, and I’m rocked by a wave of guilt. Finally, I stare into the eyes of the man mounting my lap, and a shiver racks my body.

I have loved and lost three times. At this point, I have nothing left to give, so I take comfort in knowing Cain can’t break me any more than he already has.