9. Cameron

Ibit my bottom lip as I stared at my manuscript, daring myself to save, export, and upload the damn thing to the site already. It was due tomorrow and had been edited, proofread, formatted, and designed to near perfection, yet I couldn't make myself finalize it and send it off.

As I scrolled through the front matter—all those pages before the story actually started—and my eyes lit on a particular page, I wanted to smack myself. What was I thinking?

I mean, I know what I was thinking: I was giving credit where credit was due. But thanking my anonymous email friend in the dedication to my new book was weird, right? Like, they could be a legitimate stalker.

But I didn't think so.

With a loud, dramatic huff I only allowed because no one except Prickles was around to hear it, I pushed forward. And in a few minutes' time, my manuscript was uploaded and ready to go live on release day.

Ugh. This was when a Daddy would have been helpful. He'd have held my hand or given me a reward afterward to make hitting publish less scary.

Instead, my only reward was a lukewarm cup of coffee that had been sitting on my desk since eight. I decided against taking another sip. Uploading my manuscript gave me enough jitters for a Monday morning, thank you very much.

Without another thought, I snatched up my phone, quickly typing out a text before I could talk myself out of it. What the hell did I just do?

My best friend's response came just a few seconds later. I don't know—what the hell *did* you just do? Tristan added a winky face emoji.

I rolled my eyes. I submitted it.

Tristan had been there to listen when I'd had this ludicrous idea in the first place. Proud of you, boo.

I laughed. Only you would rhyme so ridiculously.

Of course! It's not a crime to rhyme.

I sent the eye roll emoji this time. An argument could be made . . .

His responding laughing emoji had me smiling, albeit briefly.

But seriously—what if S.M.C. sees it?

The three dancing dots were only up for a second. Um, isn't that the point?

I growled before tapping the video chat icon. He answered right away.

"Of course I knew they would probably see it. But am I flirting with them? I don't even know their real name, their gender, anything! Only that they're not illiterate and have access to the internet."

"And know good literature when they read it."

"That's a given."

Tristan laughed. "Okay, tell me what's really going on."

I stared at him for several seconds before relenting. "Okay, I may . . ."

When I didn't continue, he prodded, "Yeeeeesssss?" He extended the word to obnoxious lengths.

I looked away from the camera and mumbled. "I think I may have a crush on them."

"What?!"

I winced, pulling the phone away from my face then laughing at his wide eyes and mouth. "Tristan, chill! I just . . . I feel like we've connected, you know? We've talked a lot—we've even gotten pretty deep—and I feel like there's something there. I don't know, maybe I'm just insane. Maybe they're a stalker."

Tristan nodded solemnly, appearing to actually consider it. "I was going to ask you about that. Do you really think they're stalking you? I mean, from everything you've said, they sound like the sweetest person. But you can't really know when they haven't told you much about them, right?"

I scoffed. "Ugh. So I'm nuts, right? Falling for a stalker?"

He shook his head. "No, Camster, I'm not saying that. I just want you to be cautious, that's all. But honestly? I think this person is swoony. Saying all those nice things about your writing and stuff? Seriously book boyfriend material."

I chuckled. "Well, when you put it that way . . ."

He puffed up his bare chest. "I'm always right."

The motion was enough to call my attention away from my dilemma momentarily. I cleared my throat. "Um, Tris? Why are you shirtless?"

He smirked, and it wasn't unattractive. I just wasn't into "boys." Basic incompatibility. Besides, he'd told me he was vers, but I suspected he preferred bottoming, like me. "Getting ready to shoot my next video." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"At ten in the morning?"

He shrugged. "I have a lot of followers in the UK."

I snorted, trying to hold my laugh in. Tristan was an unapologetic camboy, but I hadn't found out about it until we'd been friends for over a year. After he'd unintentionally divulged his secret with an offhand comment at one of our Daddies and Subs Club meetings, he'd claimed he wasn't ashamed of it but that the subject just hadn't come up. And he certainly hadn't been hiding it since.

I was proud of him for owning his sexuality—and a little jealous, to be honest. If I had half his confidence, I'd probably have a Daddy by now.

When I was his age, I thought I'd be much further along in that department—hell, in life in general—by my fortieth birthday. But that was next week, and unless I counted finding a dozen men who wouldn't work as progress, I was no closer to my goal.

"Good luck, Tris, I hope it goes well."

He guffawed, tossing his mess of curly brown hair through the air. "Oh, it will. I've already had several requests for today's, er, topic, so I know I already have a bunch of men—and probably women; let's be honest—already primed to spend some money. College loans are a bitch."

"Preach," I joked, not joking at all. I was still paying on mine nearly twenty years later, and college had only gotten more expensive since then. "So . . ." I bit my lip, considering the wisdom of asking this question.

Screw it. I needed the distraction.

"What is your topic tonight, as you so aptly put it?"

He laughed again. "I've been promoting a line of silicone dildos on my feed. Everyone started going crazy, asking me to demonstrate different ones. Apparently, the Behemoth is up today."

I gasped—I couldn't help it. I could guess the size of the thing by the name. I was so not the size queen Tristan was.

He cracked up. "I'm actually super excited. It'll be a fun challenge for me. Speaking of which . . . I gotta go in a few minutes. I go on in an hour, and I have some prep work to do."

I scoffed. "I don't need to hear about your prep work to take the Behemoth, man."

He waved me off. "Don't pretend like you don't know all about it, Mr. Gay Romance Writer. I know for a fact that you've written about way more kinky things than that."

"I plead the fifth."

He snickered, knowing I was kidding. When I was in the right mood, we shared just about everything.

"So are you okay now about the book dedication to S.M.C.?"

I nodded. "I'd actually completely forgotten about it. Your Behemoth talk was sufficiently distracting, Tris, thank you."

"Anytime." He winked, and it was my turn to laugh. "But seriously, man, I know we haven't known each other our whole lives or anything, but we are besties. And as your BFF, it's my job to make sure you're happy with your life. From where I sit, I don't think you are."

When I opened my mouth to speak, he put up a finger.

"All I mean is, Cameron, I know you've been hurt. Some guys are just assholes. But you have to keep trying if you're going to find the Daddy you know you need. The right guy will come along, I promise—maybe that's Sam, who I know you're still hung up on. Or who knows? It could even be your secret email admirer."

I felt my face flush but kept silent.

"Can I give you a challenge for this week before I go?"

I nodded. We were both boys, but he knew how to give me guidance when I needed it. I didn't know what I would do without him.

"Keep putting yourself out there. And hell, maybe try to go deeper with S.M.C. See if you can get a gender out of them at least. I think that's only fair of them to share since they already know you so well from your author newsletters and your books. Does that sound doable?"

My throat was suddenly tight, and I swallowed against the lump I found there. "You make it sound so simple."

"Simple, yes. Easy? Probably not." He offered a compassionate smile. "But you've got this, man. I promise."

I smiled back, fighting tears. "God, Tris, you know how to make a guy feel good."

"Nah, if I wanted to make you feel good, we'd be going about this in an entirely different way."

I snickered. "I'll do my best this week. Thanks, Tris. You're amazing. Have fun today."

The flirt winked again. "Oh, you know I will. I'll let you know how it goes later."

I rolled my eyes again, but I had to admit I loved hearing at least some of the details of his exploits. I got to live vicariously through his sex life, and I usually picked up a few good tidbits I could use in my books. Win, win. "Can't wait."

***

The rest of the day was spent on bookkeeping, so I didn't get much chance to work on my next book. I'd made good progress on it over the past several weeks, but I'd hit a plot snag, and my subconscious needed some time to work on it. If I didn't get it worked out soon, I'd need to make it a holiday romance, because this bad boy wouldn't release until December.

I wasn't really concerned—this had happened before. But something in the back of my mind was warning me that this could turn into another six-month dry spell, and I'd have to calm myself down, breathe until the panic attack went away.

Yet another reason I could use a Daddy. It would be really nice to not have to endure my panic attacks alone. But then I'd have to actually trust someone, and that . . . wasn't in the plan anytime soon.

And I wasn't even considering the other manuscript I'd started, one that didn't have a set release date yet because I wasn't sure I'd ever even finish it. My encounter with Sam had given me the idea, and once I'd finished Charlie, Hudson, and Theo's book, I'd jumped in with two feet. Our brief encounter back in the spring had never left my mind, and the words had initially flowed. At the time, I'd been convinced my mojo was officially back, but then, once I was in the weeds of the book release, inspiration had fizzled.

I was a mess.

At five o'clock, I rubbed my eyes and took the last sip of my water. I knew sitting was the new smoking, so I did what I could to reverse the effects by staying hydrated and moving my body when I could. I'd taken up yoga during my transition and kept up a consistent practice over the years, but lately, my routine was feeling, well, routine.

I pulled up a browser and searched for yoga classes happening tomorrow. Even my introverted self could admit I needed to be around people from time to time. And didn't Tristan just say I should put myself out there? This should qualify, right?

I found a studio in a nearby neighborhood that had classes at seven am and five pm. Seven was way too dang early, so five it was. And bonus: Registering online was easy.

After an uneventful night and day, I was packing my yoga mat and a change of clothes in a gym bag just after four. Actually feeling excited about this was a new look for me. But okay, yeah, I was excited. This was a beginner's class, so it might not actually be challenging, but I used that strategy when I visited a new studio, anyway. "Beginner" could mean very different things to different people.

As I entered the studio, which was lit brightly by sunlight streaming in the wall of windows that made up the front fa?ade, a cheerful young woman greeted me from behind the natural wood desk. The studio's name and leaf-shaped logo was emblazoned on the front. "Hello, sir. How may I assist you?"

I couldn't help but smile at the honorific. For two reasons, actually. One, I'd worked hard to become the man I was today, so I was beyond proud she'd acknowledged it. And two, I'd never be anyone's Sir. "I'm here for the beginner's class at five," I said with a soft smile.

She nodded quickly, reaching to pick up a clipboard on the counter as I approached it. "Name?"

"Cameron Locke."

Her eyes scanned the page quickly before she nodded once and scribbled a mark on the paper. "Yes, sir, excellent." She glanced up at me with a smile. "I see you brought your own mat, and you shouldn't need anything else for this class."

I nodded back, stupidly lifting my bound mat into the air. "Great, thanks."

She sat back in her chair, typing something into her computer before scanning the screen. "Looks like you filled out everything we need online, including our waiver." I'd submitted payment online, too, but she didn't mention that. "Any questions before you get started?"

I surveyed the reception area before lifting my bag again. "Anywhere I can store this?"

"Oh!" She leapt to her feet, hurrying around the desk to my side. I blinked at her sudden appearance. "The locker rooms are down this hallway on the left." She led me over to an opening to the left of the front desk.

I nodded.

"Then you'll go across the hallway to enter the classroom. You're in the forest room today, but it should be clearly marked in case you forget." She winked at me. Was she flirting right now?

"When you come back"—she flashed what was definitely a flirtatious smile,—"you may be in one of the other spaces: the sun, stars, or ocean rooms. And by that, I mean I hope you enjoy your class enough to come back."

I blushed; I couldn't help it. Was a straight woman hitting on me? That never happened. She was objectively attractive, I supposed, but women had never really done it for me.

If this was what I got when I "put myself out there," I might need to be more specific with the universe when I tried it again.

"Thank you, uh . . ."

"Jamie." She extended a hand, and I took it to be polite.

"Jamie." I dropped her hand as quickly as could be considered socially acceptable. "I appreciate your help. I should go drop this off before class starts."

"Oh! Yes. Please don't let me keep you any longer." She headed back around her desk as I hurried toward the hallway. "Hope to see you again, Cameron."

I waved and ducked out of sight, my breath coming fast. Holy shit; did that just happen? I pulled out my phone to text Tristan—who I hadn't bothered to invite because I knew he'd still be recovering from his livestream yesterday—but then I saw I only had ten minutes before class started. I'd tell him later.

***

At four fifty-eight, I stepped into the forest room as directed. Jamie had been right; the doors were clearly marked with the class time. The instructor's name was also listed, but this one had been crossed out on the simple sheet they'd printed and not replaced. I wondered what that meant.

When I entered the sunlit room filled with around fifteen other students, a good-looking Asian man at the front of the small room called out to me. "Just find a place wherever, and lay out your mat. We'll get started soon."

I nodded, picking a spot along the far wall somewhat near the front where I'd get some rays of the summer sun as it shone through the wide windows. The view outside was even better than I'd expected after the adorable log cabin vibe out front—I was looking at an enclosed garden of sorts. One that was well-tended, by the looks of it.

Smiling at the sight, I unrolled my mat and took a seat. I noticed other students doing some light stretches, so I figured it couldn't hurt. But before I could do much, the man at the front called the class to order.

"Okay, everyone! Let's start by standing at the front of our mats. I'm Alex, and this is Sam." He extended his arm to his left, directly in front of me, and my entire body jolted at the sight. My eyes widened as I took in the man who, despite my best intentions, had haunted my dreams and consumed nearly every waking minute since I'd first met him in April. The man who'd inspired the book I currently couldn't finish. The man responsible for my writing muse returning.

What the hell did this mean?

I stared at Sam as Alex kept talking, but I didn't hear another word. Something inside me tumbled. I wasn't sure what that feeling was—that was new for me. It couldn't be butterflies.

It was nerves. Had to be. A red flag that somehow Sam was stalking me. That was what he was doing, right? We couldn't possibly "happen" to run into each other twice, could we?

But as I gazed at Sam, I couldn't deny I was drawn to him. He didn't feel like a stalker. Our connection felt more . . . consequential. Fated, even. The memory of the feelings I had in April paled in comparison to the very real emotions swirling through my entire body right now.

Fuck. I was just here to attend a yoga class, "put myself out there" as Tris had suggested. And now Sam, the guy I'd tried not to think about for months, was here.

Goddammit.

Then our eyes met.

Sam's deep brown eyes widened as he met mine, and I felt a stronger tug in my gut. What was this guy doing to me?

He almost seemed scared, though, which made my eyebrows scrunch together. Why would he be scared of me? Was he worried I actually thought he was a stalker?

Because yeah, okay, I had thought that. The jury was still out.

I averted my gaze as Alex wrapped up his speech then started the class. We worked through a fairly standard yoga flow, similar to the one I often did at home, but this time, nothing felt routine. Because my eyes, at every opportunity—and despite my best efforts—were glued to Sam.

His strong form flowed effortlessly through the poses Alex called out, never missing a beat. His short brown hair was longer than before and had a slight wave to it. Today, it looked silky to the touch with just enough length for me to run my fingers through, maybe even grab on to as he—shit, stop, Cameron! I did not need to get turned on right now.

Sam's brow furrowed as he worked through the more difficult poses, modeling more advanced options for our practice should anyone be inclined to try them. Once I'd been through the easier poses once, I opted to follow Sam's lead.

And hell, was I in the zone.

Without ever saying a word, he commanded my body, his movements flawless and beautiful, dominant and powerful. I mirrored him without question, allowed myself to fall into a kind of trance as I let the motion of our bodies connect us without ever physically touching. If he'd asked, I'd have fallen to my knees and done literally anything he wanted me to.

That was fucking dangerous.

The thought brought me back to the class in an instant, and the force of being yanked out of my meditative state had me tumbling to the floor. Thankfully, I was in downward dog, so I hadn't fallen far and had landed gently on my hip.

Sam leapt to my side, instantly reaching for me. My skin burned where his hand touched my upper arm. "Are you okay?"

His voice was deeper than I remembered. It was damn sexy, and my entire body was quivering at those three simple words.

Be careful, I warned myself. He's not safe. That didn't feel true, but maybe if I kept telling myself it was, I'd believe it eventually.

Right.

"I'm good," I bit out, shaking off his hand despite my heart telling me to draw closer. My heart was a fickle muscle, so I wasn't listening to him.

Okay, my dick was on board, too, but he wasn't allowed to call the shots here, either. This was Sam, and given the depth of a connection I still felt with him all these months later, I knew Sam was dangerous.

He extended a hand to help me up, and I realized only then that the class had ended. I stared at his hand for a minute as the rest of the room cleared out. I really wanted to take him up on it, feel the electricity we exchanged any time our skin touched.

But . . .

I jumped up on my own, leaping away from him despite what my feelings were saying. Deep inside, I was terrified. I knew that. Call it the universe or something else, some force had brought us together a second time, almost like something was pushing us together, trying to get my attention.

But my mature brain wasn't in charge at the moment, so I lashed out. "I said I got it! And what—are you stalking me now?"

I didn't miss the squeeze of hurt in his eyes as he jerked half a step back. "Oh . . . sorry. But no, I'm not. I swear I didn't know you'd be here." Sam crossed his arms over his chest and hunched his shoulders, folding in on himself.

The action was such a stark juxtaposition to how confident he'd been during the class that my chest ached at the sight. He lit up my entire world when he stood tall and strong, and his confidence was sexy as hell. And I'd stolen that from him for absolutely no reason.

But I couldn't let my guard down. Even if some force was pushing us together, that didn't mean I had to listen. I wasn't ready for this. I couldn't trust men, and I especially couldn't trust Sam. Not when he commanded my attention by just being in his presence. Not when he kept showing up in my life like this looking so damn hot...

A shiver ran up my arm and down my spine. The man was goddamn strong, his arms and legs all lean muscle. Fuck, I wanted to run my tongue along them, taste his skin. Especially after the sweat we'd worked up in here.

I blinked at the thought. What the hell was happening? I'd never been into any of this before. Tasting a guy's sweat? Normally, that would gross me out. But this Sam had somehow hypnotized me with his perfect yoga moves, sexy body, and eyes the color of chocolate.

That was it. I was hypnotized. That's all. He was somehow working a dark voodoo magic on me, causing me to override my better judgment and give in to his charms.

He was a warlock. That had to be it.

"Was this your first time here?" he asked, clearly trying to be friendly when I clearly didn't deserve it.

I tried to swallow, but my throat was too dry, so I put up a finger and bent over to pick up my water bottle. When I stood up more quickly than I probably should've, I noticed his eyes lingering on my ass. Holy shit—was he checking me out? Had I somehow overdosed on pheromones or something? Was I a walking aphrodisiac now?

After downing half my bottle, I glared at him. He didn't deserve it, yet here we were. "Yes, but I've had a regular practice for years now. Not that my performance there at the end proved that or anything. I'm usually better than that."

He just nodded, his arms still tight across his chest. But then he whispered, "I thought you were amazing," and my heart broke. The accompanying blush on his cheeks was instantaneous, and I couldn't look away.

He didn't deserve me being a dick to him. He was a fan of my books, for fuck's sake. I could at the very least be cordial. "Thanks for saying that."

I bent over again to set down my bottle, tuck my phone into the pocket of my joggers, and roll up my mat. And maybe give him another look at the goods. Couldn't hurt, right? Yoga kept my ass tight, and I'd never been more grateful for that than I was now. I'd have to send past me some flowers.

How the hell would that work?

Sam cleared his throat when I lingered just a little too long, so I reluctantly stood, tucking my mat under my arm.

Cordial. Right. "So is this your regular class? Or were you just helping Alex out?"

Sam nodded toward where Alex had apparently returned and was now cleaning up the room. "Actually, we're both filling in for his brother, who owns the place. He had an emergency, so you got us."

I nodded stupidly.

Sam took the few steps required to reach the front of the class, bent over to pick up his mat, tucked it and the rest of his things in his bag, and stood. I definitely did not check his ass out as he did. Definitely not.

I could feel our time together coming to an end, but my entire body felt like it was being pulled toward him like a magnet. Despite my brain's insistence that I'd given up on love, my heart couldn't deny that I wanted to know this man better. That I needed to explore who we could be to each other, as terrifying as it was. I'd missed my chance before, but now the universe had given me a chance to rectify the mistake I'd regretted since.

Tristan's challenge to keep putting myself out there rang in my head. And for Sam, I wanted to try.

But I couldn't bring myself to do it.

So I took the easy way out and thumbed toward the door. "Hey, I've gotta get going."

Sam's shoulders dropped, and I wished I could wrap him in my arms and hold him close, tell him this wasn't me, that I fucking wanted him, but I couldn't open my heart yet another time only to get it handed back to me in shards. I just couldn't. "Yeah, okay." He forced a smile. "It was good to see you again."

I smiled back, tucking my mat under my arm and picking up my water bottle once again. "You as well. And who knows? Maybe I'll be back."

Then the most amazing thing happened. One I felt privileged to witness. Sam found his confidence, and it was unbelievably hot. He suddenly stood up straighter, forced his shoulders back, looked me dead in the eye, and said, "I would love that, Cameron."

My heart started racing at the sheer deliciousness of his confidence, and my stomach was already tumbling at the prospect of seeing him again. Seriously—what hold did this guy have on me?

Without my permission, my mouth opened, and I confessed in a low voice, "I think I'd love that, too."

At my words, he stood a little taller, catching my blue eyes with his deep brown ones. I felt smaller standing before him, but not weaker. Empowered, somehow. I knew without a single doubt that I was safe with him. "I'm very glad to hear that." Then he stepped back and caught my gaze again. Goosebumps erupted across my skin. "Listen, I've gotta get going—Alex is waiting on me—but could I have your number?"

Without thinking about it, I reached for the phone I'd slid into my pocket. I unlocked it, tapped open my messages, and handed it to him. "Go ahead, put it in."

My cheeks heated to near nuclear levels at the double entendre, but I didn't think he saw them. He just put his number in my phone then returned it to me. I saw he'd sent himself a tongue-out emoji, which instantly made me think of my fantasy of licking the sweat off his muscled arm. I shuddered.

He either didn't notice or didn't say anything. "It was really great to see you again, Cameron. You know, I'm not a stalker, I promise."

I quirked an eyebrow. "That's something a stalker would say."

Sam laughed in his adorable way, a little higher-pitched than his speaking voice but cute all the same. "True." Then he smirked, and that smile. I nearly came in my pants. "But still, I promise I'm not."

"We'll see." Then I sashayed from the room, and I felt his eyes track every single step.

Definitely. Fucking. Dangerous.