CHAPTER TWO

Dom was out cold by the time Shea had the condom disposed of and he shook his head, smiling faintly, endeared and a little surprised.

Dom didn't usually pass out like that after sex but between being on the West Coast for a week, the long game in Dallas, then flying home late last night, he was probably wiped out.

Shea shifted onto his side, drawing the covers over them both. Dom didn't even stir. Shea took a moment to look him over, guiltily enjoying the opportunity to let his gaze linger without Dom noticing.

He was … God, he was beautiful.

Shea's fingers itched to trace along his strong jaw and ghost over the short goatee he wore, skim his fingertip along his sharp nose and let the side of his knuckle linger in the hollow of his defined cheekbones.

Dom was overdue for a haircut and his light brown hair fell below his ears, dusting his chin and curling up at the ends.

Shea smiled because when they'd begun this arrangement, Dom hadn't had the small streak of silver to the left of his part or the faint lines across his forehead.

And Shea had never dreamed he'd fall in love with him.

He wasn't supposed to. Hadn't meant to. But no matter how many times he sternly told his heart no, it didn't listen.

So here Shea was, in love with a closeted pro athlete who paid him for sex.

Audra, his best friend and roommate, the one who'd gotten him started in the escort business, would call him an idiot for that.

To be fair, she called him an idiot for a lot of reasons, but this was the big one.

When Shea had drunkenly confessed his feelings for a client to her during their monthly margaritas and Mexican takeout night, she'd snorted.

"Yeah? Happens to all of us at least once," she'd said coolly.

"What do I do?"

"Wise up or get the fuck out of the business," she'd retorted, tossing her long curly auburn hair over her shoulder.

He'd done neither.

Instead, he'd kept seeing Dom. Kept saying yes to the weekly meetups and wondering when Dom would notice.

But apparently, Dom saw what he wanted to see and, for now at least, he was oblivious. Thank God. He'd end it the second he found out.

Shea sighed. He was an idiot. There was no disputing that.

Shea must have dozed too, because a while later he woke to Dom shifting beside him.

Shea rolled onto his side to look at him.

Dom blinked, rubbing his eyes. "Sawyer?"

"Yeah," Shea lied. God, he wished he'd told Dom his real name from the beginning. "Sorry. I'll be out of here in a minute."

"More clients to see tonight?"

Shea nodded. He couldn't tell Dom there hadn't been other clients in a long time. Not without revealing how he felt.

"I'll head out too then." Dom sat up, jaw clenching, a quiet hiss escaping his lips.

"Hey, what is it?" Shea asked with a frown. "Your back?"

"I'm fine," Dom snapped but there was an odd quaver in his voice and Shea sat up, genuinely concerned.

"Seriously, what's wrong?"

"Just a muscle spasm," Dom huffed.

Shea pushed the tangle of sheets aside and spotted the problem immediately. The erector spinae —a long, narrow muscle that ran from the ribs along the spine and down to the sacrum—twitched, a visible contraction of the muscles that had to be agonizing.

"Lie back."

When Dom looked like he'd argue, Shea glared. "I'm not asking. This is an order from a medical professional."

Dom grunted but complied, allowing Shea to guide him onto the mattress, pulling the pillow away so he could lay his head flat, his breathing short and strained.

"Bend your knees. It'll help," Shea coaxed.

With a shaky exhale, Dom did so.

Shea slid two pillows under his calves to keep his legs bent at a ninety-degree angle and his lower back as flat as possible, then studied Dom's face. His mouth was still held in a tight grim line.

"You want ice?"

"Yeah," Dom rasped, then covered his eyes with his forearm.

Shea patted his knee, then walked into the kitchen.

The refrigerator and freezer didn't hold much since the place was only used by clients and their "stylists" but there was a pretty comprehensive first aid kit, so he snagged that from under the sink, grabbing a pristine dish towel on his way out.

When Shea returned to the bedroom, Dom lay in the same position Shea had left him in, his skin sheened with sweat, his color a little gray.

Shit, this was a guy who had won a Stanley Cup with a fractured foot and played three full seasons with nagging tendonitis of the wrists.

If a back spasm was taking him out like this, it must be bad .

Shea rummaged through the first aid kit, pulling out an ice pack. He cracked it to activate the gel, shaking and massaging it until it was fully cold.

He wrapped it carefully in the towel, then tapped Dom's hip. "I'm going to slide this under you. Don't try to lift—just tell me when it's in the right position."

After a little bit of tweaking, they got the ice pack properly situated. Dom let out a shaky breath, his tense muscles softening a little.

"Better?" Shea asked.

"Yeah." Dom looked him in the eye. "Still hurts like hell but the spasm has pretty much passed."

"Good. You want something for the pain?"

Dom lifted an eyebrow. "What've you got?"

Shea laughed. "Nothing like what your team stocks, but I have some over-the-counter stuff. Have they been treating you with Toradol?"

"Yeah. I'm on day nine."

Shea tried to hide a wince. Five days max was recommended but pro teams weren't exactly known for being stingy with the meds if it got guys to play. Especially during the playoffs.

Since it was currently mid-February, that wasn't a great sign. "Are you taking anything else?"

"No." Dom looked away.

"Are you telling me the truth? That includes OTC stuff like aspirin and ibuprofen. I need to know."

"Yes!"

"Well, I don't love the idea of you taking more NSAIDS on top of the Toradol but I'll give you some ibuprofen. You need to drink water and eat something though or you'll end up with holes in your guts or a failing liver or kidneys."

"Jesus Christ you're bossy," Dom groused.

"Yeah, well, that's my job."

They both froze.

Shea cleared his throat and ripped open a packet, dumping two pills into Dom's palm. "Take the damn medication, finish the bottle of water, and rest while I make you something to eat."

"What about your other clients?" Dom shot back.

Shea bit the inside of his cheek to keep from shouting at Dom to stop being ridiculous because there was no one else. He shouldn't have joked about it earlier. God, sometimes it was tough to keep his story straight though.

"I'll reschedule," he said shortly.

"Sawyer—"

"No, Dom. I'm not in a mood to argue with you and you know that rest and ice is the best treatment if you have any hope of playing tomorrow. You shouldn't play tomorrow but I damn well know you will."

Hockey players were like that. Stubborn as fuck and more than willing to hurt themselves in the name of winning.

Dom grumbled but didn't argue.

Idiot , Shea thought but there was a resigned fondness to it that he couldn't help.

They were both idiots, clearly.

"Is there even food here?" Dom mumbled.

"No. But there's a grocery store in the lobby of the building," Shea reminded him, digging in his satchel for the protein bars he always stashed there in case of an emergency. "I can run down and grab something."

Dom sighed. "Yeah, okay."

"Eat this in the meantime." Shea flipped a bar onto Dom's stomach and Dom grunted, lowering his arm so he could peer at it, inspecting the wrapper for the ingredients and nutritional breakdown.

With a shrug, he peeled off the wrapper and took a bite.

Shea dressed in street clothes, shooting Dom a glare. "And don't even think about leaving while I'm out."

"Fuck you. I'll be good." Dom finished the protein bar, tossed the wrapper, and threw his arm up over his eyes again.

"Yeah, I'll believe that when I see it," Shea grumbled. He found his wallet and keys, then ducked out of the bedroom.

As Shea rode the elevator down, he considered his options.

The grocery on the ground floor of the condo building was small, but surely it was big enough to stock something Shea could throw together into a passable meal for someone who watched his diet carefully.

Thankfully, he was right.

It was a bougie chain and the nutritious options were plentiful.

He found pre-cooked brown rice, chicken, and frozen mixed veggies. Deciding to make chicken fried rice, Shea grabbed some eggs, snagged a bottle of soy sauce, oil, and some green onions, then called it good.

He let himself back in the condo, calling out, "I'm back," though he fully expected Dom to be gone.

But no, his shoes and overcoat were still in the entryway and Shea found him lying exactly where he'd left him, sprawled out naked on the bed with one arm draped over his eyes.

"You don't have a headache, do you?" Shea asked, concerned.

"No. The stretch feels good," Dom muttered.

"Okay. Need anything while I cook?"

"Nah. Finished my water."

"You're drinking another one when you eat," Shea warned.

Dom's only reply was to flip him off.

Laughing, Shea carried the groceries into the kitchen and quickly thawed the vegetables in the microwave, guiltily enjoying the extra time with Dom. The opportunity to spend time with him outside of sex or watching the tail end of a hockey game was almost unheard of.

Shea didn't want Dom to be injured, but he couldn't deny how much he liked caring for Dom.

Pathetic, man , Shea thought to himself, sighing as he opened the cupboard door to see what pans were available.

Thankfully, the apartment came furnished and fairly well stocked with kitchen supplies, so Shea was able to throw together a passable dinner.

When Shea set two wide, shallow bowls on the nightstand, along with forks and bottles of water, Dom lowered his hand, squinting at him. "Huh. Smells good."

"Don't sound so surprised," Shea shot back. "Hey, do you think you can sit up?"

"Yeah, the ice and meds are doing their job." Dom groaned quietly and pulled the icepack out from under him, flinging it away to land at the foot of the bed.

"Good."

Shea bit his lip to keep from reminding Dom to be careful, but he took it slow, shifting into position against the headboard, then propping himself up with a pillow.

Dom helped himself to a bowl and dug in, casually unconcerned by his nudity.

"This is good." He sounded surprised. "I had no idea you could cook."

Shooting him an amused smile, Shea took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Why are you so shocked?"

"I dunno. But now I'm wondering, how much extra is this gonna cost me?"

Shea froze, not sure how to answer that, and Dom laughed. "I was kidding. I mean, I'll pay extra for your physiotherapy skills but …"

"Oh, but my cooking isn't worth paying for?" Shea fired back.

"Ehh. Seems like one of those perks that should be included in your list of services." Dom smirked.

Shea hated the smug little look on Dom's face but he was soft for it too, so he shoveled some fried rice into his mouth before he said something stupid.

Dom took a bite too and it was all business after that.

"How's your back feel?" Shea asked when his bowl was empty.

Dom shrugged, setting his own bowl aside. "Better."

"You sure you shouldn't be on injured reserve for a bit?"

"No," Dom said flatly. "I mean, I'm sure I should be on IR but I'm not going to do it unless it gets so bad I can't skate."

Shea resisted the urge to bang his head against the nearest flat surface. Hockey players!

"Will you let me give you a massage before you head out tonight?" Shea asked.

"If you want."

Shea rolled his eyes. "Yeah, Dom. It's my secret life's purpose and I've been waiting for you to give me the nod."

Dom cracked a smile. "Well, wouldn't want to disappoint."

Shea stifled a sigh. And to think he was in love with this guy.

He truly was a Grade A idiot.

A shrill noise dragged Dom from sleep.

He sat up, wincing at the pull in his back. He looked around, head still a little foggy.

Where was he? Were they on the road? He frowned, confused, trying to make sense of the noise and the dim shapes in the room.

Someone stirred next to him and it all came flooding back.

The sex with Sawyer, the nap, the back spasm, the dinner, and then the massage that had made him pass out a second time.

A waft of something acrid and bitter hit Dom's nostrils and he wrinkled his nose, realizing what the horrible smell was. Shit, smoke!

Coughing, he shoved at Sawyer's hip. "Hey. Get up!" Dom shouted to be heard over the blaring alarm. "I think there's a fire somewhere."

Sawyer startled, jolting upright. "Fuck!"

"Get your clothes on," Dom yelled, scrambling to pull on his own.

He was dressed before Sawyer and he hesitated but Sawyer waved him off. "Go! I'll be right behind you."

Dom grimaced but walked toward the open door, covering his mouth with his arm to block out some of the noxious fumes. The smoke was heavier now and he could see the lick of flames coming from the kitchen area.

"Hurry!" he shouted at Sawyer. "I think the fire might have started in the kitchen."

"Fuck! I must have left a burner on." Sawyer coughed, tugging on his trousers. "Be there in a sec but don't wait for me."

"I don't want to leave you here," Dom said, torn between the urge to get the fuck out of a dangerous situation and his worry about Sawyer.

"Jesus Christ, Dom. Do you want to get caught coming out of an apartment together in the middle of the night?" Shea shouted. "GO! I'll be right behind you, I promise."

Guilt settled low in Dom's gut as he carefully edged out of the bedroom, grateful the fire wasn't blocking the exit.

He shoved shoes on and was out the door before he could second guess himself.

Sawyer was right. If they left together, and someone recognized him, it might be suspicious.

The air was clearer in the building corridor, and he gulped in several deep breaths.

A man ran by, pounding on doors and hollering for people to get out.

Dom took off, doing the same on the other side of the hall, then opened the stairwell door at the end. There were people there too but no one paid him any attention, too focused on leaving the building to care who was around.

Dom followed, jogging down the stairs, the sound of his heavy footfalls muffled by the shrieking alarm and a scared child crying in its parent's arms a floor or two below.

Dom threw a glance over his shoulder several times, peering up, hoping for a glimpse of Sawyer, but there was no sight of him when he reached the ground floor.

Dom burst through the doors into the cold night air, shivering as the wind hit his exposed skin, wishing he'd remembered to grab his coat.

Bright lights flashed red against the building and Dom realized there were already two fire trucks parked in front.

A moment later, an ambulance slid in behind them, the siren blaring through the night air.

"This way," a firefighter shouted, urging people away from the building.

There was still no sign of Sawyer. Fuck . What if he wasn't okay?

A radio crackled to life as another fireman walked by and Dom snagged his arm. "Hey," he said hoarsely. "I … I think the fire's up on five. It might have started in 571."

"Thanks. That's good to know. Any clue what started it?" the guy asked with a frown.

"Maybe something in the kitchen?" Dom offered, glancing toward the door where people were still streaming out, milling around and staring up at the building. "I'm not sure. I'm worried though. A—a friend is up there. He said he'd be right behind me but he hasn't come out yet."

"What's his name?"

"Sawyer," Dom said. "Sawyer Barnett."

"We'll head up," the fireman said, patting his arm reassuringly. "He's probably on his way down now or went out the other exit, but we'll check thoroughly, okay?"

"Thanks," Dom said, his voice rough.

Dom paced while he waited, gaze never leaving the door. But although person after person came out, there was no sign of Sawyer.

Dom absently patted his trousers, thinking maybe he should try calling, in case Sawyer had come out a different exit, but his pockets were empty. His phone and wallet were probably in his overcoat, still hanging on the hook by the condo door.

Dom cursed under his breath. He should have taken the time to grab it. Should have made sure Sawyer was out safely too.

Where the fuck was Sawyer? What if something had happened to him? What if he'd gotten trapped in the bedroom?

What if he hadn't made it out ?

Stomach knotted, Dom shouldered his way through the crowd of people that firefighters were trying to keep away from the building, but when he reached the tape they'd used to cordon it off, one of the firefighters stopped him.

"You have to stay back," she shouted over the noise.

"My friend's in there!"

"Sawyer Barnett?"

Dom nodded.

"Our team is looking for him but you can't go back in!" she called back. "It's too dangerous."

"I …" Dom said weakly, knowing she was right but hating it.

Stomach churning, Dom stared at the door, willing Sawyer to come out.

He waited for agonizingly long minutes, fear rising with every person who appeared who wasn't Sawyer.

When Sawyer finally stumbled out, soot-streaked and leaning on a firefighter, Dom's knees went weak.

He pushed past the firefighter he'd been talking to earlier, ignoring her shouts this time as he ducked under the tape.

"Jesus, you had me worried," Dom barked when he got closer, wrapping an arm around Sawyer's waist. "Are you okay?"

Sawyer looked up, startled, eyes vibrantly blue in his charcoal-smudged face. "What are you … get out of—" but his words were cut off by a coughing fit.

"Your friend's lungs are irritated by the smoke. We need to get him checked out by the paramedics," the firefighter said grimly. "You can talk more later."

Dom subsided, letting go to follow in their wake as the crowd parted to allow them through. A paramedic rushed over, helping Sawyer to the ambulance.

"He's got some smoke inhalation," the firefighter said, guiding Sawyer to sit on the rear bumper of the open ambulance. "No burns though."

"We'll take care of him," the paramedic said. He looked at Sawyer. "Hey. I'm Gregory. What's your name?"

He was already reaching for an oxygen mask.

Sawyer's glance darted toward Dom and he thrust something out. "Here's your phone and wallet. You should get out of here." He began coughing again.

Dom automatically took the items, frowning as he tucked them in his pockets. "I'm not going anywhere until I'm sure you're okay. Was that what took you so long? Did you stop to grab these? Jesus, I could have replaced them, you know? They're not worth your life ."

"Didn't want—didn't want anyone to know—"

Sawyer coughed again and Gregory made a tsking noise.

"Hey, I need you to put this on," he said firmly, sliding the mask over Sawyer's nose. "And I need to get some info from you. You can speak, but leave the mask on and try to say as little as possible. Tell me what your name is and if you have a history of asthma or other breathing-related difficulties."

He pulled a little notepad out of his pocket, waiting expectantly.

"Shea Barnett," Sawyer said, his voice a little muffled. "No history of either."

Dom frowned. Had he … had he said Shea ?

Sawyer glanced furtively at him, guilt written all over his face, and Dom was hit with a sudden, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach that he hadn't misheard.

It made perfect sense that a guy working as an escort used an assumed name to protect his privacy. As a client, Dom certainly would have done the same if he'd thought he could get away with it.

But somehow, the news still made Dom feel like he knew nothing at all about the man he'd been sleeping with for the past few years.

The man he paid to fuck was a total stranger.

Shea Barnett , Dom mouthed and shook his head.

What a surreal night this was turning out to be.

Shea leaned tiredly against the door of the rideshare, the glass cool against his temple.

His lungs still ached and his head hurt and he was so fucking exhausted.

He glanced over at Dom who sat silent and stone-faced on the other side of the SUV. The driver was silent too, soft instrumental music playing in the background the only sound other than Shea's occasional raspy coughs.

He still didn't understand why Dom was acting like this.

He'd looked so pissed when Shea told him he'd gone back to get his wallet and phone to protect him.

If Dom had been smart, he'd have left the fire immediately so there was no trace that he'd been at the scene, not waited around for Shea.

Shea would have covered for him. Would have made sure his name never got brought up in the investigation. The agency would have protected them both.

Why had Dom stayed? Why had he given his info to the firefighter who'd come around to ask for it while Shea was getting treated?

And why in the hell was he taking him back to his home now?

Sure, the paramedic had told Shea someone needed to keep an eye on him overnight, but Dom had ignored Shea's protests that he had a roommate who would be happy to do that.

Instead, he'd ordered a car and hustled Shea into it, then proceeded to ignore him.

Obviously, Shea wasn't going to argue in front of the driver, even if he did suspect he was probably from a car service contracted by the team instead of a regular Uber or Lyft driver. The guy would likely be discreet, but Shea wasn't going to risk it even if Dom clearly was throwing all caution to the wind.

But why ?

None of it made any sense.

The car pulled up silently to the curb and Shea stared dumbly at the luxury high-rise overlooking the waterfront.

He dragged himself out of the SUV, trying not to sway on his feet while he waited for Dom to thank the driver.

A moment later, Dom caught his arm, gently gripping his elbow. "Careful. You look like you're about to fall over."

It was the first words he'd said since they left the scene of the fire.

"What are we doing here, Dom?" Shea asked tiredly.

"Getting some sleep."

Shea opened his mouth to protest, but Dom steered him toward the building and into the lobby. Shea was too exhausted to fight anymore.

Fine, let Dom blow up his fucking career. What did Shea care?

Well, no, that wasn't true.

Shea wished it was, but guilt lay heavy in his stomach as Dom spoke briefly to the concierge, then rode the elevator to the eleventh floor.

Once inside the condo, Shea looked around but Dom jerked his head. "Bedroom and bathroom's this way. We should shower first."

As they stopped in the bedroom, Shea looked longingly at the enormous bed but he knew Dom was right. He reeked of smoke and needed to get clean before he crawled under the covers.

"Seriously. What are we doing here, Dom?" he asked again, unable to let it go. "Why did you bring me here?"

"Someone needs to keep an eye on you." He unbuttoned his shirt with short, jerky motions, dropping it on the hardwood floor.

"I have a roommate. Audra—"

"Would be worried if you came home at four in the morning smelling like smoke." He unfastened his belt.

Shea shook his head. Well yeah, probably, but still …

"Why did you stick around in the first place?" Shea rasped. "Why risk your career? What if someone got photos of us? What if someone starts digging into how we know each other?"

"You're an idiot," Dom spat, dropping his trousers on the floor.

"Oh, I'm the idiot for worrying about your career?" he shot back.

"No, you're an idiot for risking your life for my phone and wallet!" Dom shouted. "What the fuck, Sawyer—Shea—whoever the hell you are!"

Shea blinked, wondering if he was reading this right. Was Dom pissed about not knowing his real name?

"My name is Shea," he said softly. "Shea Michael Barnett. I used Sawyer to keep a little separation between my careers."

"Yeah, I get that," Dom said, peeling off his underwear.

"So why are you pissed?"

"I'm pissed because you could have died tonight!"

Shea swallowed hard, remembering how he'd gotten halfway down the hall to the stairwell before he thought of Dom's things, wondering if they would burn up completely or if they would only be a little charred but recognizable.

Wondering if it would lead to questions about why he was there.

Shea had ducked back into the apartment, feeling the heat of the fire steadily creeping closer as he dug through Dom's overcoat pockets.

"I was trying to protect you," he admitted. "I thought that's what you'd want ."

"Jesus Christ," Dom snapped. "I'm a selfish asshole at times but I'm not selfish enough to let a man kill himself to keep my secret."

"I'm sorry," Shea said, swallowing, his throat raw. "I—I didn't realize how bad the fire was. How fast it was moving."

It had flared hotter with the door open, the oxygen feeding it, and Shea had barely gotten a grip on the wallet and phone when a firefighter yanked him away, shouting his name and that he needed to get the hell out.

"I can't believe you were that fucking reckless ."

Shea opened his mouth to protest but all that came out was a cough. He coughed again and again, body wracked with the spasms, and Dom settled a hand on his back.

"Hey, you should use the inhaler they gave you," Dom said more gently. "And then take a nice hot, steamy shower."

Shea fumbled for the inhaler in his pocket, sucking the medicine down until his coughing fit subsided and he could breathe again.

"A shower sounds nice," he admitted when he could finally speak again. He set the inhaler on the nearby dresser.

"Leave your clothes here. I'll put them in a garbage bag, then take them to the dry cleaner."

Shea stripped off his shirt, unthinkingly saying, "You probably should burn them."

They both winced.

When Shea was naked, Dom took his elbow and tugged him toward the en suite bathroom.

It was white and bright and Dom immediately flipped on the water inside the shower while Shea leaned against the counter, feeling strange and shaky from the albuterol.

It worked great to relax the airways but it left him feeling weird.

"C'mon." Dom said, herding him toward the glass shower door. He followed him inside.

Shea protested. "Oh, you don't have to—"

"Yeah, I do," Dom said shortly. "I'm afraid you're going to pass out and we don't want to call the paramedics again tonight if you smack your head open."

Willing to admit Dom was right about that, Shea leaned against the shower wall, eyes half-closed, and let the water run over him.

It felt like painful little pricks against his cold skin. He'd been so dazed he hadn't noticed the outside temperature while he was treated in the ambulance.

But it was mid-February and there was still snow on the ground. He was shivering now.

Shea jerked in surprise when Dom touched his hair.

"Duck your head," he said gruffly. "Gotta wash this smoke away or it'll never get out of the pillows."

Shea let Dom soap his hair, rinse it clean, then work in a little conditioner.

He slumped against Dom's chest as Dom scrubbed his skin with body wash, mumbling a grateful "thank you" as he dropped his forehead to Dom's shoulder.

For a second, Dom froze, then slid his arms around Shea, holding him close.

Shea knew he couldn't get used to this, couldn't read anything into it. It was probably only Dom feeling guilty about how the night had gone.

But for a few heartbeats, as Shea let the water fall onto his tired body and he breathed in the soft, soapy scent of Dom's skin, he let himself pretend that it was more than it was.

That maybe Dom could someday feel even a fraction of what Shea felt for him.

"You falling asleep on me?" Dom asked, a low, almost fond rumble in Shea's ear, and he forced himself to lift his head.

"Nah," he said, pulling away. "But if we stand here any longer, I might."

Dom gave him a faint smile. "Think you can safely get out on your own? I still need to wash my hair."

"Yeah, yeah, I'll be fine," Shea promised.

He stepped out onto the bathmat and reached for a big fluffy towel. It was warm and he hugged it to his chest for a second, grateful Dom had turned on the heated rack.

Shea had finished drying his hair when the water shut off. Dom was suddenly beside him, dripping wet.

"Need a toothbrush?" he asked.

Shea nodded, wrapping the towel around his waist, then handing a fresh one to Dom. "Please."

He couldn't meet Dom's gaze in the mirror while he brushed his teeth, and he was drooping with exhaustion by the time Dom flipped back the covers on the bed.

"Get in," Dom coaxed and Shea slid under onto the smooth gray sheets, curling up on his side, anticipation churning within him as he wondered if Dom would join him or if there was another bedroom he'd sleep in.

Dom pulled the covers up over him, then patted his hip.

Even through the heavy fabric, the touch was reassuring. "Thanks," Shea slurred.

"I'm gonna get the clothes bagged up and then I'll be back, okay?"

"Okay."

Shea fought sleep until he felt cool air on his back and the warm line of Dom's body as he slid in beside him.

"Night," he mumbled.

"Night, Shea."

He fell asleep to Dom's soft, steady breathing beside him.