Page 11 of Imperfect Cadence

"Wait," I called out.

He paused, then slowly turned around to face me. His expression was tense, as if he half-expected me to demand he take the clothes back, rejecting his act of generosity.

"Thank you," I whispered.

A genuine smile illuminated his face, and in that moment, I realized I'd have to start being nicer to him. I couldn't fathom going another day without that smile being directed my way.

However, now lying in this bed that seemed to engulf me, my insecurities became my only companions. The weight of guilt and self-loathing threatened to consume me. Grayson's kindness overwhelmed me in the best way possible. He made me feel special and like I mattered. He made me feel wanted.

I couldn't even begin to process my feelings about being enveloped in his arms last night. Nope, not touching that one.

But it didn't really matter anyway. Sooner or later, I'd fuck up beyond repair. It's the story of my life. Grayson might think he wants me to stay now, but eventually, he'd realize I’m not worth the trouble and ask me to leave.

The thought sent my anxiety skyrocketing. My nervous tapping on the mattress continued. My fingers twitched with the urge to grab my guitar, the only thing that could soothe my racing thoughts, but playing music at three am probably wouldn't help my newfound mission to ensure Grayson wasn't inconvenienced by my presence.

The only reason I was awake in the first place was my anxiety about Grayson hearing me cry out in my sleep. Given the angry shouts and snide remarks from Mr. Nelson and other foster parents over the years, my nightmares were probably super annoying to listen to.

Grayson had already witnessed my shame once.

Except, I must have succumbed to sleep at some point because the next thing I knew, strong arms encircled my waist.

"Hey, shh, it's alright. I'm here. You're safe. It's just me," that honeyed voice whispered in my ear. His warm breath tickled the wild locks of hair covering my face, sending a shiver down my spine.

I stiffened. Memories of the previous night, which I desperately tried to suppress, flooded back. Those same emotions. Warmth. Comfort. Safety.

Desire.

Determined not to go there, I flipped around to face Grayson, extracting myself from his tight embrace. Heat crept up my neck as I realized that my stupid nightmares were responsible for him being in my bed again. My mind raced, fixating on all the potentially incriminating words I may have shouted in my sleep.

Gentle palms cradled my jaw, slightly raising my chin until I gazed into the deep blue of Grayson's eyes. Unspoken questions swam in the depths of those eyes, their intensity rendering me speechless.

As I stayed silent, simply staring at him, Grayson began to lightly stroke my cheek. Usually, I'd flinch or pull away entirely when touched, but in that moment, I felt an unusual urge to lean into Grayson.

His fingers traced light caresses over my sensitive flesh, sending waves of heat down my body. Lying here, with him holding me and treating me with such care, stirred strange sensations within me. A peculiar sense of familiarity washed over me, which seemed ridiculous given that I'd known him for all of two days.

Yet, there was something connecting us. Something intangible. In his arms, I felt safe, and I trusted him more than I'd ever trusted anyone. Not trusting myself to speak and break the tension slowly building between us, I startled when Gray leaned forward to press his forehead against mine.

Sensing my hesitation, Grayson encircled me in his arms once more, his grip so tight that it felt like I'd never be able to leave. His spicy cologne teased my nostrils, laced with hints of musk and salt. The tips of his unruly dark curls tickled my lips, causing them to tingle.

Grayson's sharp intake of breath caused his chest to expand, brushing against mine. The realization struck me that we were both shirtless and now pressed skin to skin. Even relaxed, I could feel his solid muscles and defined abs. I barely managed to suppress a groan at the sensation, my arousal spiking from both the mental and physical stimulation.

In that precise moment, Grayson shifted his thigh, unintentionally brushing against my erection. Despite being mostly proportional to my size, he couldn't mistake the unmistakable firmness for anything other than a hard cock.

Mortified, I attempted to pull away, a flash of panic overwhelming me. I rolled over and curled into myself, bracing for the impact. The tentative trust I had placed in him all but vanished in the face of fear.

Grayson's earlier kindness seemed meaningless; past experiences had taught me that even the sweetest straight guys didn't take kindly to another guy pressing their hard dick against them.

My heart raced frantically, and the instinct for self-preservation compelled a string of apologies to tumble from my lips.

A large hand rested on my shoulder blade, eliciting a flinch from me despite my desperate attempt to remain stoic. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Displaying weakness at a moment like this only invited a more brutal beating. Men took pleasure in others' misery, and indifference was the quickest way to make them lose interest and leave you alone to pick up the pieces. Unfortunately, my traitorous body never learned that lesson. Instead of enduring the punches like a man, here I was, praying he didn't notice the tears threatening to escape my eyes.

"Hey Colt, shh, it's okay. You have nothing to be sorry for," he said softly, beginning to rub soothing circles on my back.

I wanted to believe him, but my brain kept playing tricks on me.

"Breathe, Colt. Just take a deep breath for me."

Shakily, I attempted to even my breathing but only succeeded in sniffling. Embarrassment burned my cheeks, and I wished for the ground beneath me to open and swallow me up, saving me from this nightmare. I was pretty sure my actual nightmares couldn't be worse than Grayson witnessing my pathetic state.

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