Page 52 of Caged Hunger

“It’s good to hear from you, boss. Thanks for checking in.” Disappointed, Basher hung up the phone, then made his way into the living room.

He was sad he couldn’t head home just yet, but on the positive side, it meant he got to spend more time with Cameron and see where that spark might lead.

Now he needed to finish his coffee and plan an extra-special, romantic-as-fuck date.

It was just after eleven a.m. when Basher hopped on his motorcycle to go and ask a certain bartender out on a date.

He felt like a teenager—excited yet nervous, eager yet scared to death.

What if Cameron said no? What if he already had plans?

Yes, they had incredible chemistry in the bedroom, but that didn’t necessarily mean Cameron was interested in pursuing anything more.

What if the guy only wanted his dick?

He was running the risk of being humiliated if Cameron said no and confessed that he was only interested in the meat between his legs.

Talk about fucking humiliating.

But could he really blame the guy?

How many people wanted to date an ex-con? How many people wanted to date a guy who barely talked and whose solution to problems was violence and pain?

He really was putting it all on the line.

Basher couldn’t remember the last time he was ever this vulnerable.

Love fucking sucked.

Was this love? He had no fucking idea.

All he knew was that he couldn’t stop thinking about that smile, those eyes, the scent of Cameron’s skin against his…

Perhaps he was falling in love. There was only one way to find out.

He’d stopped at the corner store to buy a bag full of candy instead of flowers. He felt like candy and sweets were more Cameron’s style. He bought Smarties and gummies and sugar packets that popped on your tongue. He bought all the things he used to love eating as a kid.

He had to steal the items when he was younger since he had no money and his foster families weren’t exactly the friendliest of people.

Basher shoved the bag full of sugar into his jacket pocket, then continued on his way toward Cameron’s apartment.

For a grown-ass man, he was nervous as shit.

He didn’t do this lovey-dovey, romantic crap. But something told him that Cameron craved it. And as he was quickly realizing, he was willing to do whatever the smiling ball of sunshine wanted.

Once he arrived at Cameron’s third-floor walk-up, he climbed the stairs, then knocked on the door.

He could hear music playing in the apartment—some pop group that sounded vaguely familiar.

Swallowing hard, Basher knocked on the door a little harder this time.

What if he wasn’t alone?

Just when Basher was about to reconsider this whole ridiculous idea, the apartment door flew open.

“Oh, hey! What are you doing here?” Cameron asked, smiling and looking totally surprised to see him.

“I brought you sugar,” Basher announced, pulling the bag from his jacket pocket and shoving it into Cameron’s face.