10. Dom

CHAPTER 10

DOM

I watch Cam's mask slip into place, and my stomach drops with each step he takes to escape my presence. He practically runs from my apartment, not even bothering to pull anything on over the soiled boxers he's wearing. The slide of the studio door is at least somewhat comforting. He hasn't gone far, or doing a walk of shame in my underwear past my brother and all the patrons of the gym downstairs.

How am I going to fix this? How do I apologize for taking advantage of his moment of weakness? I'm not a mindless animal, as much as I felt like one the second I felt his hardness pressing into me. At first, I was in awe at having his skin under my palms. And he encouraged me, pressing my hands harder into his body, guiding them where he wanted them to be—or maybe where he thought I wanted them to be.

"Thanks for taking care of me."

Did he think I needed him to give me something in return for taking care of him last night? Did I do or say something that made him feel like he owed me anything at all?

Scowling, I look down at my cock, which still hasn’t softened all the way. Hell, it hasn't been soft since I met Cam. I'm so fucked in the head.

This is your fault.

Cam probably thought he had to do something about the monster erection he woke up next to.

Rubbing my palms into my eyes, I run my hands over my head, fingers touching the same spot at my nape that Cam had gripped to pull me closer. It felt like he wanted it, but maybe that was wishful thinking. Why the hell would a young, beautiful thing like him want me? I'm a has been. A washed-up old guy lusting over someone nearly half my age. I should be ashamed of myself—I am ashamed of myself.

He deserves better than my calloused hands on his perfect, smooth skin. Better than anything I could ever give him. Better even than anything I could have given him when I was young and on top of the world.

I can't take back what I did this morning. I'm not sure how to even begin making it right.

But I'll start by repairing some of the damage fucking Emile Alistar has done to him. Because Cam damn sure as well deserves better than that sorry excuse for a man.

It's a couple of days earlier than I normally drop off my laundry, but I'd like to return Cam's clothes to him, clean and without the reminders of his horrific night. I still need to convince him to go to a hospital to get drug tested. Fuck, should he even be alone right now? What if it's still in his system and he passes out or something?

God fucking damn it, what if he was still under the influence?! Why didn't I consider that?!

My stomach lurches.

Pulling on the first pair of sweatpants I find, and the shirt Cam discarded earlier, I grab the key to the studio and run after him. The way I should have the moment he tried to leave. I should never have let him out of my sight. I should never have touched him.

Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck

I run through the studio and burst into the bathroom, forgetting to knock. Cam gasps in surprise from his place on the shower floor.

"Shit, Cam. Are you—fuck, I'm sorry." Why am I such a fucking idiot when it comes to him? The shower walls are frosted glass, just like the one in my apartment, but I still turn to give him privacy even though I just busted in here like some kind of police raid. "I shouldn't have?—"

"Please don't."

"—let you leave."

"What?" We both say at once.

"I shouldn't have let you leave," I repeat. On the long list of things I shouldn't have done, it's the most important right this second.

Cam's voice is so small I barely hear him ask why.

"Because you've been through a lot in the last twelve hours. Because I made it worse."

He sniffles. "How do you figure that?"

I sigh and lean my back against the shower wall. "I didn't think. It's not an excuse for taking advantage of you. There’s no excuse for that, but I didn't even stop to consider you could still be under the influence of?—"

"Dom." A couple inches to the right of where I'm leaning on the shower wall, the door cracks open. I shoot a furtive glance down and see Cam's outstretched hand. It's wet and warm from the shower and fits so perfectly inside mine. Holding his hand, I slide down until I'm sitting with my back to the shower wall. He shifts so he's resting against the opposite side. Our hands remain linked through the open door. He pushes his long fingers between mine, and my chest mimics the squeeze he gives my hand.

"I should be the one reassuring you, not the other way around." I'm not sure which one of us I'm chastising.

"You didn't take advantage of me, Dom. I'm perfectly fine. I woke up a bit disoriented, sure, and I have a bit of a hangover. But I was aware of what I was doing, even if I'd like to pretend otherwise. You didn't do anything wrong."

Even if I'd like to pretend otherwise…

"You regret it."

"You don't?"

"Not for the reasons I should," I admit.

"We can pretend if you want to," he says quietly, breaking a long silence. "We can go back to how it was before."

I turn my head to the side, looking at our linked hands, at the drops of water rolling down his arm.

"Can we though?"

"Maybe we should," he answers.

"Maybe."

I grip his fingers tighter between mine when he tries to pull his hand away. No matter what I say, no matter what I agree to for his sake alone, I know I won't be able to forget what his skin felt like under my hands, my lips. I'm screwed and I know it.

"Tell me all the reasons you should regret it," Cam says. It pulls me from my rapidly spiraling thoughts and gets me back to where I should be.

"Because you're my brother's stepson. Because I'm almost twice your age. Because you deserve better."

He scoffs. I'm not sure at which part.

"What about you?" I ask, needing to hear all the reasons why my lusting after him is terrible for us both.

"Because I don't deserve you. Because I'm with Emile, who, despite his faults, has helped me come so far." He pauses for a moment, then continues. "Because I've done and said a lot of things to purposefully push Dwayne away, and I don't want this to be the thing that finally breaks him. He's a good guy, and I don't want to ruin what happiness my mother has found with him. She's been through too much to deserve me wrecking her life again."

"Again?"

Cam lets out a small huff of sardonic laughter, and this time I let him pull his hand free. My hand is dripping wet and cold outside the warmth of the shower. I stare at the moisture in my palm and imagine I can see where his fingers were linked through mine.

"I haven't been the best son."

"I doubt that."

"No, I'm being honest. I did a lot of stupid shit and made her worry when she had more important things to deal with."

"Of all the times I've heard your mother and my brother talk about you, they've never once mentioned being anything but proud of you. Yes, Dwayne mentioned worrying about you in the beginning, because he was so desperate for you to accept him. But those walls are finally coming down, and I've gotten to witness that myself."

Cam makes a small, barely perceptible sound of surprise. Maybe he doesn't realize just how closely I've paid attention these past weeks. How I've scoured my memory for every scrap of conversation that I can remember where Dwayne so much as mentioned him. I know that he's gone from reckless to standoffish in the time my brother has been with Cora, and I can see the joy in Dwayne's eyes the more Cam warms to him.

"As for the rest, the past is the past. You were young. Doing stupid shit is part of growing up." I scoff. "Hell, you're still young enough to make a lot more stupid decisions and get away with it."

"Oh, yeah?" His tone drops, and I hear him move behind me.

A wet hand reaches over my shoulder. He turns my face towards where he is on his knees, facing me. My body instinctively turns to face him, sitting back on my heels and giving him the full brunt of my attention. His eyes are dark amber right now, like deep pools of honey that are too thick and viscous to wade through. I'm trapped, not even tempted to tear my eyes away from his for a second to look at his exposed body.

I swallow and try to remind myself of my convictions when I came into this room. Of the reasons we both regretted losing control not even an hour ago. That I'm here to help and protect him, not to take advantage of his pain. Not to allow him to take advantage of himself, to use my attention and attraction to him as a distraction for his troubles.

“Don’t worry,” he says, sensing my turmoil. “I’m not trying to seduce you again. But I… Before we go our separate ways and come back tomorrow and pretend this never happened… Will you kiss me?”

His eyes close, allowing me to drop my gaze. It falls to his mouth. To full pink lips and a tiny flash of his tongue darting out to catch the small beads of water from the condensation of the shower clinging to his skin. The deep flush of his face, his embarrassment and the timid way he shrinks back, have me moving against my better judgement.

Once again, I dive into a deep end swimming with sharks. The red flags are there, clearly visible even through the haze of my desire for him, but I soldier through, ready to face whatever fresh torture coming down from this will be. My lips have touched his skin, his chest and shoulder, but to kiss his lips will be the death of whatever sanity I have left. I have no doubt I'll walk away with more regret than I ever had about my career, my ex, or any of the many mistakes I've made in my life. Because I know the moment I taste his lips, I'll be addicted.

I'll be addicted and I can't have him. I'll be addicted and I'll have to walk away. I'll be addicted and I'll have to see him, be near him, breathe him in, every day for the foreseeable future.

And yet, I do it anyway. Before he can pull away completely and wallow in what I know he perceives as rejection, my hand shoots out to cup his face. I lean forward, halfway into the shower, with my head and shoulders in the direct stream of the water and brush our noses together.

"Please?" he whispers, so quietly it blends into the sound of the shower running.

Cam tilts his chin, and I lower mine, our lips meeting each other in a soft press of flesh. Tingles erupt like tiny fireworks across my lips, and I feel them on my tongue. My mouth parts on a breath, and Cam's tongue slips inside, licking the inside of my top lip and sucking it into his mouth. Where the scar across my top lip is usually numb, the constant reminder of the dumb mistakes I made in my youth, pure pleasure radiates down my spine. I shudder and press in more, meeting the movements of his lips. The kiss is gentle and tentative at first, testing and tasting, but then Cam's tongue brushes against mine, and they curl together.

I feel it everywhere .

He moans, and I swallow it like a man stranded in the desert with only a sip of water to sustain him. The kiss becomes consuming and sloppy, open-mouthed and hungry. I let Cam pull me fully into the shower, not even noticing the water saturating my clothes. I follow him as he lays back on the shower floor, gorging myself on his mouth and tongue. My body blankets his, dwarfing him.

I'm so lost in the kiss I don't realize the position of our bodies, the way Cam's legs are forced wide to accommodate my bulk, until we instinctively begin rocking together. My hips chase the friction of our bodies melding together, the sopping wet fabric of my sweatpants the only layer between us. I grind against his bare cock, not coming up for air until his bare hand pushes beneath the waistband of my pants and grips the meat of my ass, pulling me against him harder and faster. He breaks the kiss, stretching his neck to whimper into the echoey chamber of the steam filled room. I press my mouth to his neck and moan, kissing my way down to the hollow at the base of this throat. I lap at the water pooled there, drinking from his skin.

The room is loud with the sounds of the shower running, the wet squish of our bodies frantically chasing an end we once again didn't agree to, and the desperate moans, grunts, and whimpers falling from our mouths between kisses.

"Fuck, Dom, I'm sorry."

My lust haze clears enough to lift myself up, worried that I'm crushing him. Cam's legs are locked around my hips so hard I can’t move without forcibly dislodging him. I look down at him, worried and confused. What could he possibly be sorry for?

"I'm–I'm gonna cum," he whimpers, hips lifting to meet me thrust for thrust.

Groan. "It's okay, baby. Give it to me, just this once." After this, we'll stop. After this, we'll pretend it never happened.

"Just this once," he repeats on a gasp. His pelvis grinds against mine until he stiffens and calls out. I slam my mouth to his, greedily sucking the sounds he makes into my body, committing them to memory so I can use them later.

Cam's nails dig into my skin, rocking me against him, drawing out his pleasure and bringing me to the brink. My body quakes with a jolt, and I fill the inside of my soaked sweats with my release, feeding him a garbled, moaned version of his name.

Our heavy breaths replace every sound except the shower, which is growing cold now. We kiss through the aftershocks and the comedown, and don't stop until the water is too cold to stand and my arms are getting tired of holding my body weight. With one more roll of my hips and a slow kiss, I push myself off him, then lower my hand to help him up. We quickly rinse in the frigid water, which ends up being helpful once I have to peel myself out of my pants and stand there naked with him. Another moment and it won't matter how cold it is, though. So I step out and grab towels, passing one to Cam.

"Do you need something to wear?" I ask him.

"No, I have spares in my locker."

"Oh, that's good."

Cam swallows, and we stare at each other blankly for long enough that most of the steam has cleared the room. After several beats that threaten to break through my rib cage, I take the few steps between us and hug Cam's body to mine. With one arm wrapped around his lower back, I lift him so he's closer to my level.

"One more," I rasp, taking his lips in one last slow, deep kiss that threatens to make a liar out of me again.