Chapter 7In the morning the rain had let up, though a few lingering drips and drops meandered earthward. Matthew woke in Dylan’s bed—much larger than his, with utterly sinful sheets—and had a quick second of pure disorientation before finding an anchor.
Dylan. Curled up against him. Head on Matthew’s shoulder. Warm and snug, and evidently inclined to cuddle in the night.
They hadn’t done much beyond the kissing, on the couch. Some wandering hands, some discoveries. Dylan, despite enthusiasm, had been getting noticeably more sore and more tired; Matthew refused to let him be hurt more, and had carried him off to bed.
He’d run downstairs for pajama pants and his toothbrush and his phone charger, with Dylan’s spare key for getting back in. He wasn’t leaving Dylan alone. Neither of them eve
