Page 87 of Inferno

I shrug.

“Do you think you can stand?”

I nod, but honestly, I’m not at all sure I’m telling the truth.

Curling his arm around my waist, Anders slowly climbs to his feet, half helping, half carrying me along with him. When I’m fully upright, I try to open my eyes, but the room immediately starts to spin, and I squeeze them shut again.

“Can you walk?”

I shake my head. Standing was hard, walking is impossible.

“Sleep on the floor,” I slur.

“That’s not happening, Kitten. Let’s get you into bed. Do you have any Tylenol?”

“No, not know,” I mumble, mixing my words up. “I know not. Not know, I…” I try for a third time, then giggle at the nonsense I’m saying.

My feet are suddenly off the floor, and I’m moving, making my spinning head spin even more. Just when I’m about to puke again, the movement stops, and I’m lowered onto the bed, feeling the familiar cotton sheets beneath me.

“Boy, I’m going to get you more sweatpants, you look fucking hot in them,” Anders says quietly as he starts to undress me, pulling my shirt over my head, before he works my sweatpants down my legs.

With my eyes still closed, I fumble with my briefs, pushing them down until they’re caught on my feet. Losing interest, I reach out and grab the comforter, wiggling my way into the bed until I give up, flop onto my back, and cover my still closed eyes with my arm.

“Fucking perfect,” Anders whispers, carefully working my briefs off my feet. “Where are your pj’s?” he asks, like I’m a child.

“Hot,” I tell him, sounding…like an overtired child. The last thing I remember before sleep takes me is reaching down and gripping my dick, telling myself not to come, over and over again.

When I wake up, I’m naked, sprawled across Ander’s broad, comforting chest, while he strokes my hair with one hand and tightly holds my hard cock with the other.

EIGHTEEN

ANDERS

My boy is a messy drunk.

After he shut the door in my face last night, I stood outside hoping he’d change his mind for over an hour. But after the light went off in the apartment, it didn’t come back on, and I finally gave up and drove home.

I know I could have been more insistent, I could have forced my way inside, but I didn’t want to do that because he has every right to be mad at me. I’m an asshole. I pushed all of my issues onto him, and I didn’t even explain why.

I didn’t tell him about Gabe. I never explained my fears or asked about his. In short, I saw him, I wanted him, I fucked him, then I fucked up and ran away instead of acting like a man and dealing with my issues head-on.

This morning when I got to base, I was like a bear with a sore head, sulking and angry in equal measure.

“What the fuck is up with you?” my boss Buck asked.

“Nothing. I’m fine, just sick of this place being a fucking mess when we get on shift. We don’t leave it like this.”

Buck’s eyes moved from side to side, searching for the mess I was bitching about and failing to find it. Because apart from asmall pile of car magazines on the large dining table we all eat around, the base was, as usual, tidy and uncluttered.

“My office,” Buck ordered, his voice brooking no arguments.

Exhaling wearily, I’d followed him out of the mess and down the corridor to his office. Ushering me inside, he’d closed the door behind us, then gestured for me to sit in one of the two open seats in front of his desk while he took the one behind it.

Buck is a couple of years younger than me, an inch or two taller, and a similar build. He’s a good guy and a great boss, all of which only combines to make me feel even more pathetic to be sitting before him like I’ve been hauled into the principal’s office.

“Okay, it’s just us. Want to tell me what’s bugging you and if it’s going to be a problem?” he’d asked bluntly.

Scrubbing my hand over my face, I exhaled. “It’s a personal problem. I’ll get my head on straight and be all work. I’ll be fine.”

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