Page 59 of Yard Sale

Was he having a stroke? I stared at his eyes, but they didn’t exactly sit straight all the time, and it didn’t seem like his pupils were reacting to light the way other people’s did, so I didn’t think that was a good litmus test.

Or whatever that stroke test was.

Tiago didn’t let me question him further. He let out a jaw-cracking yawn, and then suddenly, his hand tightened on the coffee, and he twisted the mug, snagging it by the handle and bringing it to his lips.

In three massive gulps, he took down the entire thing, and I tried not to wince because three minutes of snuggles were not enough to reduce the temperature. And the coffee was hot. My dad wouldn’t have gotten some wimpy little machine that made tepid brew.

Tiago didn’t seem to notice, though he did grimace when he set it down. “Bitter.”

“I have milk and sugar. Or creamer,” I started.

He hummed deep in the back of his throat, and then, his fingers coasted up my arm and began searching for…oh. My nipple rings.

His thumbs played over them, and my dick gave a valiant twitch behind the flaps of my robe. And it was a nice reminder that Tiago was naked apart from his sock and the knee brace.

“Sweetheart.”

He dropped his forehead to mine as his fingers circled the metal in my chest. “Mm.”

“I think maybe we should⁠—”

“Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my—I didn’t…I’m so sorry!”

I froze. And even in his current state, Tiago froze. In fact, he was clearly very, very awake now with the way he turned into a damn jungle cat. His eyes were shut, but every line of his body was tense.

Peering around him, I caught a glimpse of blonde hair and a blue shirt with a company logo on it.

“Aravind,” he rumbled. “Who was that?”

I managed to ease him against the counter and rush to the window in time to see a woman darting into a midnight-blue Prius with pink lettering on the side that read Happy Hearth And Home with a phone number beneath it.

If the broom and mop logo were anything to go by, it was some cleaning service my dad hired.

Amazing. Wonderful. Fantastic.

I was not taking this as a sign.

But I was going to have to call my dad because he was going to need an explanation about why his son was cuddling a pro hockey player in the kitchen. A naked hockey player.

Moving back through the door, I found Tiago standing beside the oven now, holding a tea towel in front of his dick. He stiffened when he heard my steps, and it took literally every ounce of my control—and then a bit more—not to burst into laughter.

“I have no clothes on,” Tiago said.

“Um. Yes.”

“How did I get here?”

I bit my lip and breathed through my nose before answering him. “I’m going to assume you climbed out of bed, brushed your teeth, then walked down the hall.”

His eyes narrowed into a glower, and it looked like he was going to say something nasty before his entire body deflated. “I don’t remember that. Why does my mouth feel weird?”

“You just housed an entire mug of boiling hot coffee.” I walked closer as he grimaced and rested my hip against the cabinet. I wanted to go back to all the cuddling and touching, but he didn’t seem very into it.

“Did I…you know. Was I inappropriate?” he asked.

“Nothing I didn’t want.”

He let out a puff of air. “You don’t have to be nice to me.”