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“Can I come home with you?”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“Yet here you are holding my hand.”
I ducked my head. “You got me on that one.” I glanced over to look at Watson in the dark. A few strands of hair hung in his face. He was staring down at his feet. “Okay, you can come home with me.”
“Yeah?” His lips turned up. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”
I chuckled. “You can sleep in the bed.”
Watson’s fingers twitched around mine. “With you?” he whispered.
“No. I mean, I’ll sleep on the couch.” My breath caught in my throat when he turned to meet my gaze. “While you sleep in the bed,” I added.
“I think I’d like it better if you slept with me.” He twisted his large frame toward me.
I wanted that. I really did. God, I missed that so much, but Watson was having dreams that were flashbacks of us. I didn’t want him to wake up and freak out because I hadn’t told him the truth.
“That’s not a good idea.” I reminded him.
“Your cock thought it was a good idea earlier.”
“Jesus, you can’t just say shit like that, Watson. What if someone heard you?”
He shrugged before he took a step closer. “It’s only us. Watson and Holt,” he murmured before bringing his free hand up to my face. “I’ve missed you so much,” he confessed before he dragged the tips of his fingers over my cheek. “If I promise not to touch you, if I promise to be good, can we sleep in the same bed?” He gripped my jaw. “Or...” He moved so that our lips were just inches apart. “Maybe if I’m not a good boy?”
“Watson.” His name came out in a moan. “Someone might hear you.”
“I really don’t fucking care, H. Fuck ‘em. We’re adults.” His lips fluttered over mine before he released me to take a step back. “Think that’s the Uber.”
Uber, right. The car that was taking me, and now Watson, back to the apartment I hated. As we climbed into the car and his hand found mine in the backseat of the car, that feeling of dread I usually felt when I found myself going there didn’t hit me.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Watson
