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you’re kinda sweet?” Cain asked.
    “Come here,” Henry said, lifting an arm for Cain who rolled over, backing in and snuggling up in his arms. “And for the record, you can tell me anything, Cain.”
    “Thanks…‘preciate that.” Cain sighed, thinking a safe place to rest his weary head was just what the doctor ordered.
    “Sooner rather than later, you know. In case, I need to make a run for it.”
    Cain laughed as Henry squeezed him tighter, hugging him closer to contradict the comment he’d made in jest. The man was too good to be true, so Cain reminded himself not to get comfy. The fact he worked for the men who were attempting to terrorize him into selling his home was likely to be an issue. Cain was just paranoid enough to momentarily imagine they’d hired the man to romance the property out from under him.
    “God, you smell amazing,” Henry added, pressing his nose into Cain’s hair and breathing him in then exhaling.
    And with that, all worry and concern floated right out the window.
    “FYI…I’m a morning sex kinda guy,” Henry clarified. “In case you were wondering.”
    “Finally…a decent reason to get up in the morning. I’ve been waiting for one for years.”
    Henry hugged him tight once more. “I’ll remind you, you said that.”
    Cain wiggled back, attempting to snuggle in closer and feeling strangely content, all things considered.
    “Good night, Henry.”
    “Good night, Cain.”
    With that, Cain closed his eyes and drifted off.

 
     
     
     
    Chapter Three
     
    Cain twitched, snorting as he came to, certain he’d heard a woman giggling. He felt a warm hard body shifting behind him and smiled when Henry ground his erection into his ass.
    “Good morning to me,” Cain muttered.
    Henry made a long throaty groan.
    Both of their eyes popped open when they heard, “Keep it G, bitches—or save it up for my bachelorette party if nothing else. You two can be the entertainment.”
    “Em?” Cain said, rubbing at his eyes and staring down the bed to find his bestie perched on the foot of it.
    In all her early morning glory, Emily Haven’s wildly, manufactured mane of blonde curly locks were on display, a sliver metallic scarf keeping the front half tied down. Too thin for her build, her clothes hung on her frame, held up by her shoulders and too-large boobs, which had been a gift from her mother on her eighteenth birthday. The woman almost never allowed herself any excess outside of the alcoholic variety, and she never failed to appear as rich as she really was.
    As friends, they’d been a total mismatch from the very beginning—the princess and the pauper—but Cain adored the very sweet girl hiding underneath the protective monster Emily kept firmly in place much of the time.
    “What the fuck, dude? Knock much?” Cain asked.
    “I take it you know this person?” Henry muttered, gently thrusting his erection into Cain’s ass once more.
    It was instinctual on Henry’s part, but Cain found it difficult to concentrate regardless.
    “That’s not at all distracting,” Cain mumbled to Henry in response.
    “I could ask him the same thing about you, studly,” Emily said, placing a hand on Cain’s leg. “Who’s the hunk, C? And why am I the last to friggin’ know everything these days?”
    “Why are you here?” Cain said, kicking her hand off his leg. “Unannounced?”
    “Rowr,” Emily cringed. “You did give me a key, remember? Hope you’re taking notes, mystery dude. Cain and mornings don’t mix.”
    “He all but promised me morning sex, which you’re presence is hindering,” Cain pointed out.
    “Ouch, jeez, okay, so you have every right to be pissy.” She was already pouting. “I get that, but it’s an emergency, C!”
    Cain sat up, forcing his eyes all the way open. “Is everything okay? No one’s hurt? Greg’s okay?”
    She ignored the question, staring off into space melodramatically. “I’m desperate, and you’re like my only hope and shit!”
    Cain