7. Landon

Iwoke in Callum's bed.

At least this time my sleeping ass hadn't gone all octopus around him from dreams he might leave me and never return. God knew what I would do if he ever walked out on me. Without Callum… Hell, I couldn't begin to imagine how I would survive. Making it through a single day without his assuring presence and guidance seemed impossible.

Nope. I lay on my side, fuzzy memories fighting for clarity in my brain that was slow to power up. He and Zack had been clasped tightly together in an embrace, even more erotic a sight than when they'd been dancing.

Neither wore clothes, I realized as the colors from the fantasy world I'd been inside while asleep became vivid in my consciousness.

They'd been locked in a kiss, hands groping, frotting in desperation for release against each other.

And I'd been turned the fuck on, dick aching.

I blinked myself out of the memory, and Callum came fully into focus.

He still slept on his back, his far arm wrapped up above his head on the pillow, fingers slightly curled, completely relaxed. Lips parted, he exhaled soft puffs of air without much sound.

Callum had a strong brow and prominent nose, classical almost in its appearance as though he had aristocrat blood in him. Even in sleep, he appeared so put together. Calm and collected. Everything I wasn't and needed. I'd been lucky to have my first manuscript land on his desk, even though he'd never learned how it had happened. He'd been in charge of marketing, far from acquisitions and having no say in what authors the publishing house he worked for took on as clients.

Whoever or whatever had made our paths cross that day had blessed me beyond measure.

Sighing, I pulled my knees up to ease my morning wood that raged more than usual thanks to that dream of him and Zack.

What Callum had done for me, the money he'd used to hire Zack for five days, was above and beyond what a normal friend would do. I didn't deserve Callum, and nothing in my past suggested otherwise even though he insisted I was a good man and ought to have whatever my heart desired.

Which would be Zack.

Callum knew that truth of mine—hell, I'd talked the entire affair to death more than once to his kind ear.

My mind focused on the man who owned every piece of me, and a not so sweet ache settled in my chest. He and Callum were a lot alike, or at least the younger Zack had been. Wiser than his years, Zack had been an old man even at eighteen from having grown up in foster care. He'd been nothing but sweet and nurturing, same as Callum.

He was a perfect fit for all the fragmented pieces inside of me that I couldn't glue back together on my own and Callum attempted to. Hell, I didn't even know how to deal with my emotions or the heavy silence while being alone that forced self-reflection.

That's why I lost myself in writing. Focusing on make-believe men and their love lives made dealing with mine easier and escaping reality a simple feat.

A quiet noise left Callum's mouth, one he always made right before waking, thankfully giving me respite from my mind. His soft-looking lips drew my focus. The upper was slightly plumper than the lower. I remembered how beautiful of a smile he had and that dimple I stared at whenever I coaxed laughter from him.

Without thought, I brushed my fingertip over his cheek right where the dent would appear, strange flutters in my stomach.

Callum's eyelids slid open from the slight touch, and he turned his head toward me, his eyes sleepy.

I didn't remember crowding closer while studying him, but I realized my pulled-up knees touched his thighs, my face inches from his shoulder.

He made a low growl-like noise that sounded like a grumpy bear who'd been woken too early.

I grinned, readying to tease him for not being a morning person.

Callum grunted and weaseled his arm around me, pulling me tighter against his side though, erasing all jesting words from my mind.

My legs straightened, and my still hard cock slid along his thigh.

I gulped, my heart suddenly thumping in my chest. He'd never intentionally hugged me like this. "Um…" I cleared my throat, feeling a desperate need to ease the situation. "That's awkward?"

"Don't worry about it," Callum muttered, his eyes still on me and much more alert than seconds earlier. He didn't look bothered by the fact my body pressed against him. His hand remained on my lower back as though he wanted me to stay right the fuck there.

"Morning wood is a real thing in case you haven't figured that shit out by now." His voice sounded ragged, and the fact he reached beneath the blankets to adjust himself…

A tingle raced through my groin.

What the hell was that?

What the ever loving hell?

I studied my best friend, trying to make sense of the feelings suddenly stirring inside me. Was it…desire? It was similar to the affection I'd felt for him for years but more.

"Do I have a zit on my nose or something?" Callum muttered, rubbing a hand over his face, and I realized I stared a little too hard for much too long.

I shifted my hips back, suddenly antsy to put some space between us even though my body disagreed with my head. I'd gone too long without sex and seriously needed dick. "N-No."

He sighed, sounding almost disappointed I'd pulled away. "I went to see Zack last night," he stated quietly.

My heart stuttered in my chest at the thought of him with the man I wanted back in my life.

But.

Oh, but…

It wasn't out of jealousy or fear Callum would leave me. Nope. That trip in my heartbeat was because of a sudden shot of adrenaline and lust over the memory of the two men entwined in my dream. Saliva and pre-cum between their skin. Heat and panted breaths. Groans and sounds of slapping skin, the squelch of lube in an ass being stuffed full.

Blinking a few times, I forced myself to focus on Callum rather than my fanciful imagination that earned me a shit ton of royalties every month.

"I think he'll be more willing to listen to you this morning," Callum said. "He agreed to meet you for breakfast at nine."

All thoughts of anything but having the chance for reconciliation with Zack fled from my brain as hope and warmth rushed through me. I finally had an opportunity to make things right.

And maybe more.

I scrambled off the bed in my haste, shoving at the blankets with my feet when they attempted to keep me in place.

Same as always, Callum cared for me, untangling my foot that had somehow gotten wrapped up in the top sheet as I grabbed my cell off the bedside table.

Eight-thirty.

"Shit," I muttered, a burning desire to get my ass ready and out the door taking over my brain.

"I owe you one!" I shot over my shoulder while rushing to the bathroom, my morning wood leading the way.

Not sure how shit would go down between me and Zack, I cleaned myself out rather than empty my balls. You know, just in case. That choice could bite me in the ass. I might end up with a raging hard-on distracting me while talking to Zack, but at least we would be at a table that would hide the proof of the way my body still wanted him after all these years.

How much would I have to share in order to gain forgiveness? Was he aware of what he'd meant to me when we were kids? Had he noticed only he had ever given me the time of day? That he was the one person in my life I could rely on?

Yes, I'd behaved badly the night he'd left our home, but I'd been sure he felt the same about me as I did him.

His rejection had stung, had triggered what I learned later was fear from childhood trauma thanks to parents too busy to give me attention—good or otherwise.

I'd fucked up back then.

But this time I would do everything right, no matter the cost.