Owning Corey (13 page)

“Fucking with you?” My brain isn’t working properly. I can’t remember now if we’ve been arguing, but it seems maybe we have. Even the kiss is some vague memory that doesn’t seem real. I’m beginning to wonder if it even happened, or if my drunken brain is fabricating a memory. “What are you talking about?”

“Nothing. Let’s just get you home.”

8

(COREY)

AFTER the gods of irony test me with an awkward moment of fishing the house key out of his pants pocket, Ben and I are able to make it into his house and to his bedroom. He’s not really seeing now. His body has succumbed to the alcohol, and he’s leaning against me like he’s boneless. If I had known what a lightweight he was, I never would have encouraged him to drink those tequila shots. The Red Bull served to keep him going long past the time he should have stopped.

I feel terrible. All I wanted was to make him forget about that bitch Christina, but he ended up getting way too drunk and doing things he’s going to regret tomorrow. Things he’ll probably hate me for.

And then there’s what I did.

There was no excuse for kissing him when his defenses were down, but he was pushing my buttons. I wasn’t exactly sober, either. Thank goodness I hadn’t even drunk my last couple of shots or I may have jumped him in the bar.

By the time I’ve got him standing in front of his bathroom sink, he’s regained control of his muscles and seems more coherent. For a fleeting moment, it occurs to me that he may still be yanking my chain, pretending to be more wasted than he actually is.

“Can you brush your teeth and wash your face?”

He nods and pulls an unopened toothbrush from a drawer. “Here’s a toothbrush for you.”

“Are we having a sleepover, Doc?”

He laughs, and we both brush our teeth and splash cold water on our faces. Afterward I feel refreshed, like I’ve gotten my second wind, which is not necessarily a good thing. I was kind of hoping to pass out and not have to think tonight.

“There’s some acetaminophen in the cabinet,” he says, picking up a glass from the counter and filling it with water. He swallows the two pills I hand him, and I take two as well.

“Ben, you’re a doctor even when you’re drunk. Now let me help you get comfortable for bed, okay?” I get him up onto the bed, and as I start to unlace his shoes I have to smile. Freaking Converse high tops. He’s such an adorable geek, I just want to eat him with a spoon.

When I get to his jeans, he starts laughing with his eyes closed. “First you kiss me, now you’re trying to get in my pants. Better watch out or I might start to think you like me.”

Yep, still yanking my chain.

“Go to sleep, Ben. Before you say something you’ll regret.”

“I won’t regret anything with you, Corey. I love you, man. You’re so… cool.” He yawns like a little boy who’s played too hard. “Maybe we can find some more women to share. We can do all the nurses at the hospital together. Can you imagine? A different woman between us every day. And I hope we can come at the same time every time like we did with Christina. Did you notice that? God, that was awesome… Felt so good…”

“Really, Ben. Go to sleep and quit babbling. You’re gonna hate yourself in the morning.”

I lean him back and unfasten his jeans. When I slip them down his legs, he wiggles a little to help me out. I try not to notice the way his thigh muscles bunch when he moves, or the perfect curve of his calves. I’m sure it will irritate the hell out of him that I toss the jeans onto the rug, but at the moment I don’t care.

Sitting him back up, I pull his t-shirt over his head. He holds his arms up for me, and it’s like undressing a child, only there’s nothing childlike under his shirt. His muscles are finely sculpted across his chest and abs, his skin a creamy color that has rarely seen the sun. At Christina’s house when we were doing the deed, I couldn’t really get a good long look at his body without risking the two of them noticing. But now that he’s nearly passed out and laid back on his bed, I can look at him all I want.

My belly clenches with longing as I take in the sight of him. He’s so strong, so manly, and yet so vulnerable. His face is relaxed as if in sleep, but his long, sooty lashes flutter restlessly against his pale cheeks. I’m dying to run my hand over that defined chest, that ridged six pack, that flat stomach.

Pale blue silk boxers hide what’s down below, but I’ve already seen it. Already felt it rubbing against me, though unfortunately there was a barrier between us at the time. God how I’d love to grip his trim hips firmly in my hands and slide those boxers off…

“You like my underwear?” Ben asks, and I look up to discover him watching me with narrowed eyes.

I panic, swallowing a big gulp of air and struggling to come up with a good excuse for why I’m so blatantly checking him out. Fortunately, he doesn’t seem offended. He probably won’t remember any of this tomorrow, anyway.

“Yes, very nice. I had a pair of silk boxers once, but I wore them completely out. They were hanging apart at the seams by the time I had to throw them away.”

He laughs drunkenly and uses his elbows to scoot up onto his pillow.

“Are you all set, then?” I tuck him under the covers and make sure his head is straight on the pillow. I don’t really want to leave him alone in his condition, but I also don’t want to overstep my boundaries and get kicked out of my new home. “I’ll leave the door open and lie down on the couch so I can hear you if you need anything. I moved the trash can to your side of the bed as a make-do emesis basin, just in case. Thank goodness we don’t have work tomorrow, or we’d both be in trouble. Not to mention any unlucky patients we might have had.”

I start across the room, but I only make it as far as the door.

“Stay,” he says.

“Um, I don’t know if I should…”

He pats the empty spot beside him on the bed. “Please. I don’t want to be alone tonight. You know what happened to Jimi Hendricks, Janis Joplin, and Mama Cass. Could you stand that on your conscience?”

“Mama Cass wasn’t drunk when she died, and I really don’t think you’re in any danger of asphyxiation. But I’ll stay if you really want me to.”

“Pretty please.”

It’s a terrible idea, but I do it anyway. I can’t stop myself. Not when he’s begging. “Alright. You must really be desperate for company if you’re using dead rock stars to coerce me to stay.”

He’s on his side, and I climb onto the bed behind him, not sure if I should take off any of my clothes. At first I try keeping them on and sleeping on top of the covers, but in the end, comfort and temptation win out. Ever since I’ve been sleeping indoors in decent places, I can’t stand to sleep in my clothes. It feels too much like having no place to go.

At least that’s what I tell myself while I’m stripping, trying not to disturb Ben with my movements. First my pants come off, then my shirt, and I’m feeling very exposed in nothing but my boxer briefs. A little thrill trips through my body at the thought of being here with him in his bed, almost naked.

“This is a bad fucking idea, Corey,” I whisper to myself as I slip under the covers. “Like the worst idea ever in the history of the universe.”

“Huh?” Ben stirs but keeps his back to me.

“Nothing, Ben. Go back to sleep.”

I realize I’ve forgotten to turn off the light, so I reach across him to flip the switch on his bedside lamp. My bare chest grazes his back, and I’m done for. My dick shoots up instantly.

Ben sighs, as if his drunken, half sleeping self enjoys the contact.
Fuck.
He’s going to be the death of me. I lie there stiffly, unsure of what to do, and finally I give in to the temptation to slide against his back and wrap my arm around his waist, spooning him like a lover would. Even worse, he snuggles back against me, seemingly oblivious to the fact that I’m a guy and his ass is cradling my rock hard cock. I believe he would literally murder me if he had enough wits about him to know what is going on… and still I let it happen.

I reason that I’m not doing anything to hurt him, and that he won’t even remember enough to be upset. On the other hand, if he is sober enough to remember, then maybe he doesn’t mind. Maybe it will be just the thing to make him realize he wants me.

“Ben…” I whisper.

“What?” Still conscious. So far, so good.

“How drunk are you?” I’m going to hell for even asking. I should just get up and walk out of here right now.

“I’m not that drunk,” he slurs, wiggling backward, getting impossibly close to me and sighing again.

“So you’re totally fucked up, huh?” It is unethical of me to even be having the thoughts I’m having right now when he’s in this condition.

“Don’t worry about it.”

I’m shocked at the way he’s acting, even if he is drunk, because when he’s awake he can barely stand for me to touch him. I’ve been toying with the idea that he has a hint of Asperger’s Syndrome, but now I’m not so sure. Maybe I just make him feel things he’s not comfortable with yet.

Wishful thinking, asshole. He’s going to kill you tomorrow.

“Let’s just go to sleep,” I whisper, tightening my grip around his waist. My cock is wedged firmly between my abdomen and his ass, and I can’t believe he doesn’t feel it. It’s all I can do to keep from sliding it between his thighs just to get some relief. Or worse, snatching his shorts down and straight up fucking him. My insides are in knots trying to control my urges when every instinct in my body is telling me to go for it.

I close my eyes and rest my lips against his dark hair, which smells like shampoo, bar smoke, and Ben. His body feels so good in my arms, pressed up against me right here, ready for the taking if I have the courage. Or rather the audacity. A strangled squeak comes out around the lump in my throat. I don’t mean to make a noise, it just happens because I feel so desperate.

“You wanna kiss me again?” he asks in a husky voice, and my heart jumps up into my throat.

“Fucking go to sleep, Ben. You don’t know what you’re saying.” I’m pleading with him now.

I want so badly to overlook the fact that he’s drunk. I want to ignore it and give him what we both want, but I can’t, because I don’t know how he’ll feel about it tomorrow. And I can’t trust that he really wants it anyway. People do some crazy things when they’re drunk.

I want to, but I don’t. Instead, I do what I should have done in the first place. I roll quietly out of the bed and go lie on the couch, where I can still hear him if he needs me, but I won’t have the temptation of his body being so close to mine.

9

(BEN)

THE buzzing of my cell phone is the only reason I claw my way up to consciousness before noon. For some reason, my curtains are open, letting the cruel sun have its way with me. As a night shift worker with blackout shades and strong habits, I am not at all used to this. In fact, I’m in total empathy with vampires at this moment.

I hiss and hold my hand in front of my face, scrambling off the bed onto the floor to find my phone, since it’s not on my bedside table. “What the hell?” It looks I invited a natural disaster home with me last night. My clothes are heaped in a pile beside my bed, and that’s where I find my phone, still in the pocket of my jeans. “Hello,” I gasp, lying on the rug and trying to catch my breath.

“Dr. Hardy, where are you?”

“Julie, is that you? Why are you calling me before noon?”

“Yes, it’s me. Why aren’t you here yet? It’s almost time for class to start.”

I search my brain, which is difficult though the haze and headache. “Class?”

“You’re teaching the CPR class this time, remember? Class starts at noon. You’ve got fifteen minutes to get here.”

“Shit. I forgot. Can’t we reschedule?”

“No! We’ve got fifteen people sitting here waiting to get re-certified, including me. If I don’t get this done within a couple of days, I won’t be able to work, which is what I get for putting it off until you were the one teaching it. Stupid, stupid…”

“Why the heck would you do that?”

“Dr. Hardy!” She’s practically screaming into the phone. “We don’t have time to discuss it. This is serious. If administration finds out you didn’t show, it won’t look good. What do you want me to do?”

I struggle to straighten out my brain and come up with a solution. “Okay, Julie, listen carefully. I want you to look in the closet of the classroom. There’s a list of things we need, along with all of the equipment. Get the list and set everything up. Ask someone to help you if you need to. Announce that I’ll be there at a quarter after, then send everyone to the cafeteria for coffee or something.”

“Alright, Dr. Hardy. Just please hurry.”

“Oh. My. Lord.” I talk aloud to no one, tossing my cell onto the bed and pulling myself up off the floor.

I run to the kitchen for ice water, lots of it, and coffee. Once I get cup brewing on my single serve machine and down an entire bottle of water, I head to the shower. I’ve got twenty-five minutes to get there.

As I pass the living room, I stop short. Corey is lying on the couch in nothing but his underwear, curled up like a baby with no cover to keep him warm. My mouth goes dry, and my heart skips a beat.

When I get my bearings and am able to stop staring at him like a jackass, I rush over and shake him awake. He jumps up so fast we nearly crack heads.