Page 93 of Caged Hunger

BASHER

The constant beeping beside him was starting to get fuckin’ annoying.

How was anyone supposed to get any rest with those motherfuckers beeping in his ear?

Letting out a groan, Basher slowly opened his eyes.

A batch of black hair covered part of his left hand.

Basher smiled.

Cameron was fast asleep, softly purring as he used his hand as a sort of makeshift pillow on Basher’s arm.

He loved that even as Cameron slept, the boy still wanted to feel connected to him.

That was love.

How long had the poor guy been sleeping at his side?

He knew he’d been in and out of consciousness over the past few days. He knew he had undergone surgery, and then some doctors said something to him and Marcus—nothing he could remember at the moment. He remembered Cameron holding his hand as he drifted off to sleep.

He remembered Cam promising to stay with him all night. Even when the nurses and the guys had tried to convince him to get some sleep and let someone else take over, Cam had stubbornly refused.

He had argued with everyone.

Why Cameron was so good to him was beyond a mystery. He didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a nice guy; he didn’t do nice things. Guys like Cameron deserved someone who was sweet, charming, and smart as hell.

He was none of those things.

Yet for some reason, the boy clung to him like he meant everything to him.

Basher lifted his hand and gently dragged his fingers through Cameron’s jet-black hair.

Cam moaned. He lifted his head slowly, then smiled when he realized Basher was awake.

“How are you feeling, babe?” Cameron asked, running his hand gently up Basher’s leg, not realizing what his touch was doing to him under the thin hospital sheet.

“I feel like I was hit by a truck.”

Cameron sat up straighter, then leaned across to hold Basher’s hand.

“How about being hit by six close-range bullets, then undergoing a four-hour surgery?”

“Yeah, that will do it.”

“You could have died, Rambo,” Cameron argued.

“Yeah, well, I was protecting my guy,” Basher said, giving him a weak, strangled smile.

“Yeah, well,” Cameron shot back, “I’d prefer my guy to stay alive and breathing while he’s doing all this protecting.”

Basher squeezed his hand and grinned.

“I’d happily take on a barrage of bullets if it meant keeping you safe.”

Cameron groaned dramatically and shook his head.

“You’re unbelievable.”