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upstairs finally became too strong to resist.
    Crawling into bed again, Ken listened to the regular breathing of the man next to him and thought, I could get used to this. I really could.
     
    Chapter Five
     
    C ORY stretched carefully as he came awake. Though his body felt like he’d been run over by a truck—twice—his head was almost back to normal, and the pervasive feeling of nausea seemed to be gone. With a sense of relief at having gotten through the worst of it alive—yeah, he was melodramatic but it sure felt like he was going to die at a few points over the past couple days—he rolled over toward Ken, who was gone. Mood instantly crashing, he flopped back on his back before giving in and crawling over to the other pillow, inhaling Ken’s comforting scent.
    It was amazing how quickly he’d gotten used to having the man there with him. He’d surface from sleep just enough to register Ken’s steady breathing, maybe a low grunt as he shifted positions in his sleep, and he’d drift back off, feeling safe and secure.
    Just having him sleeping there was almost better than sex. A flood of erotic images took exception to that, and he palmed his semi-erection. Well, almost better than sex. And speaking of better… he must be on the mend if he was popping wood.
    He cleaned up and changed into sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt and wool socks. Brushed his teeth, which was long overdue—ugh. Wondering whether his stomach could handle a few crackers or something, he wandered downstairs, noting the door to Becky’s room was ajar. That usually meant she wasn’t home, she was pretty rabid about her privacy and the door being open was likely from Bailey looking for her mom this morning. He felt the familiar burst of resentment toward his sister at her casual, callous disregard of her daughter. There was no question that Bailey was getting old enough to feel it too.
    Once in the kitchen, he took a moment to appreciate how clean and picked up the house was. Man, he really owed Ken. It was clean enough that the short note on the counter stood out.
    Cory—Got Bailey on the bus this morning, but then really had to go in to work for a while. I plan to be back before her bus gets here in case you’re not up. Lori called yesterday, wants you to call her when you can. Ken
    Very simple, even dispassionate, but Cory read between the lines—his actions speaking louder than his words. Ken had really taken to Bailey. His former decision to keep transient partners out of her life now warred with the real caring Ken had shown to them over the past few days.
    Cory blew out a frustrated breath. Here was a perfect chance to nip this in the bud. All he had to do was call or text Ken that he was up and feeling better and he needn’t come back this afternoon. But then, he’d probably told Bailey he would be here—was it really fair to her to disappoint her? Seizing on that as a reason to maintain the status quo, he defiantly ignored the part of his brain reminding him that was exactly why he hadn’t wanted Bailey to come into contact with anyone he wasn’t serious about. Trying to put it from his mind until he was forced to deal with it, he walked to the fridge, bravely contemplating what he might be able to eat.
     
     
    H E WAS dozing on the couch when he heard the key in the front door. Thinking fuzzily it was Becky, he looked up and caught his breath. Ken was there, spare key fob in this hand, handsomely dressed in a suit that looked like it had been made for him. The breadth of his shoulders was accentuated, and the crisp blue collar of his shirt drew his eye to the tanned, corded muscles of his neck.
    “You’re up.” A hint of aftershave finally reached him as Ken made his pleased, husky observation. All Cory’s senses leapt at the sensory smorgasbord. His brain clamored at him to get touch and taste in on the act.
    To that end, he rose from the couch and walked right into Ken’s arms, which, hesitantly at first, enfolded