10

Apart of me maliciously wished I could ignore that I'd brought Bloom home without James's knowledge. James deserved to worry after the role he'd played in tonight's debacle. How could he have taught Bloom the wiles he'd used on Grimm? Now Bloom was fast asleep in my guest bedroom, and his taste lingered on my tongue.

I took a sip of my brandy, which did nothing to quell either the bitter tang of Bloom's cum or the turmoil in my heart.

How the hell had I wound up in this situation? Had my senses not returned, I would have likely fucked him in the bathroom. Strumming my fingers over his tight hole had been the slap in the face I'd needed. Bloom might be a killer, but he was a virgin who had never experienced certain pleasures.

If I took his virginity, I would never be able to return from that. I already had the look of abandon on his face when he'd come stamped on my brain. His sexy little cries were a melody stuck in my head.

Bloom wasn't like my one-night stands. They always knew the score and never returned for more. Bloom was like a parasite that didn't know when he was uninvited. A sexy little parasite I didn't mind having around. But I couldn't—shouldn't—have him around.

The blow job would have to be enough for him.

I punched in James's number and put my phone on speaker. I'd had a few missed calls from him when I'd been treating Bloom's wound. Maybe I should keep him at the house for a few days to ensure he stayed off his leg. He was too reckless on his own, and those bikers let him run around doing whatever he pleased.

"Dr. Collier, you left already?" James answered my call.

"Yes, I had an emergency I had to handle."

"That emergency wouldn't be Bloom, would it? Don't be upset, but I think I lost him."

"You think you lost him?"

"When I returned to my seat after handing you the award, I didn't see him. I searched everywhere. Maybe he's with you?"

I should let him sweat, but I was too exhausted from handling Bloom tonight. "Yes, he is."

"I knew it. My little plan worked, then."

"If you mean did he aggravate his wound by dancing and I had to take him home to stitch him up, then yes, your plan worked fine."

"Oh shit. All that happened?"

"Yes, it did. You owe me one for tonight, James."

"I don't mind. So did you and Bloom kiss and make up? You're the hot topic in our group chat, and everyone's desperate for news."

"Then they'll just have to wait longer. Good night, James."

"But I—"

I ended the call, drained the remainder of the brandy, and washed out the glass. The counters were already clean, but I wiped them down anyway. I checked over every window and door in the house. After setting the alarms, I climbed the stairs. A peek-in on Bloom showed he was sleeping. I'd given him one of my shirts to wear, but he might as well have been naked. He didn't lie under the covers, and the shirt was practically up to his neck. He must have been exhausted because he'd fallen asleep the instant his head hit the pillow.

His back was to me, and tattoos covered almost the entire expanse of his skin. His round ass was a stark and appealing contrast to his otherwise inked body. Desire rushed back in, tingling down my spine and pooling in my groin. I averted my gaze, mentally chastising myself for allowing the forbidden thoughts to creep in again.

He needed more than I could give him. He deserved to be happy.

Why did he refuse to find that happiness with someone more suitable?

I lifted the sheet and covered him up to his waist. For a few seconds, I let my imagination run rampant. Imagining me slipping into bed next to him, holding him in my arms, and sleeping through the night to wake up with him still next to me. Morning breath kisses, breakfast in bed, and a shower together. Shower sex—god, I was giving myself a boner.

Step away from the ticking time bomb.

I returned to my room, went through my nighttime routine, and crawled into bed, leaving the bedside lamp on. The Echo Dot picked up from where I'd left off in my latest dystopian audiobook, which lulled me to sleep.

Something brushed against me and startled me awake. Disoriented, I opened my eyes. Bloom stood at the foot of my bed. I regulated my breathing and focused on pretending I was asleep. Maybe he would go if he thought that.

The bed dipped, and I held in a groan. Bloom climbed up the bed and cautiously lay down on his side with his back to me. He scooted closer and closer until his ass pushed into my groin. He raised my hand and placed it over him, then settled down, wriggling his butt against my cock.

"If you're going to sleep like this, at least keep still."

He instantly stopped moving. "I was trying to get comfortable."

"You shouldn't be comfortable in my bed. If you keep squirming, I'll kick you out."

"I'll be good."

I let out a snort, but he didn't respond. He lay quietly on his side with me as the big spoon. I half expected him to grope me, to continue wriggling his ass against my cock, but after a few minutes, his soft snores broke the silence in the room. With him asleep, I relaxed enough to move closer and settle my arm better around him. How could someone so small bring such energy and make so many people afraid of him?

I inhaled his hair, savoring his faintly spicy scent. The scent that was so distinctly Bloom. He felt strangely right in my arms, an odd but welcome warmth against my body. His hand lay on top of mine, our fingers loosely entwined. I stroked the back of his hand with my thumb, drawn to the sensation of his soft skin against mine.

A strange peace washed over me as I gazed at him sleeping. I could savor this moment for tonight, couldn't I? He could recuperate in his own home. Crowe, the biker who seemed responsible for him, could babysit. It was his job, not mine.

My eyelids grew heavy, and I drifted back into sleep with a piece of heaven masquerading as hell in my arms. And if I felt more relaxed in this big, empty house because of the boy next to me, I pushed it from my mind.

For the second time that night, I was jolted out of my sleep. My arm was no longer around Bloom, who was getting up.

I rubbed my grainy eyes. What now? If he wanted sex, he might get lucky. I was so tired I might not have the willpower to say no to him.

"What is it, Bloom?"

He turned his head enough for me to get a glimpse of the blank stare on his face. His mouth moved as if he was mumbling to himself.

Was he sleepwalking? Bloom never looked at me with such a vacant expression. I climbed out of bed and followed him in case he damaged himself. He walked around the room in a daze, his bare feet padding softly on the carpet. He ignored my presence, lost in his somnambulist haze. I watched him silently as he slowly paced in circles, his barely audible mumblings growing louder.

He jolted and opened the door. I went after him down the hall to the stairs.

"Bloom," I said softly, trying not to startle him. He didn't even flinch. His eyes were open, but they were glassy and unperceptive. "Let's get you back into bed."

I gently turned him toward the bedroom. He kept walking with me, but once inside, he jerked violently away from my guiding hands. I let him be but locked the door.

I sat on the bed to wait out his episode, watching him so he didn't hurt himself or get too agitated and hurt his leg again. He fiddled with the knob for a few minutes, then gave up. Muttering incoherently, he moved to another door—the closet—and disappeared inside.

The next minute, a low wail rose, and I rushed to the closet. Bloom had tucked himself into a corner, rocking back and forth while scraping the wall with his nails as if looking for an escape route.

I knew he'd been through a traumatic childhood. His comments about being forced to fight a dog for food had filled me with so much rage and sadness for him. The people who had done that to him deserved to die. No, they deserved to suffer for the rest of their lives for what they'd done to this innocent boy.

"Bloom, it's me, Logan." I couldn't leave him in the closet, and I had work tomorrow. I needed to get a good night's rest. Not that that was possible anymore, but any amount of sleep would do at this point.

Each time I urged him to his feet, his agitation grew worse.

"Bloom—" I touched his cheek. "Can you hear me?"

He snarled at me, hissing like a wild animal, and sank his teeth into my hand.

"Fuck."

Blood seeped out of the punctured skin. His grip was unwavering.

"Bloom, let go. It's me, Logan."

I used my other hand to squeeze his jaw, hating the idea of hurting him, but if he didn't let go, I might be missing a whole hand soon. I increased the pressure, and he screamed, an inhuman sound that startled me. I snatched my hand back. Tears spilled down his cheeks, and he returned to clawing at the wall, sobbing.

I grabbed a tie from the hanger and wrapped it around the wound in my hand tightly. This time I knew better than to touch him.

"Bloom, are you looking for a way out? There's one right here."

But he ignored me. I sighed. All I could do was make him comfortable and ensure he didn't hurt himself. We were in for a long night.