No Souvenirs by K. A. Mitchell

Author:K. A. Mitchell
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: M/M Contemporary, Source: Amazon
ISBN: 9781605049489
Publisher: Samhain Publishing
Published: 2010-03-01T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eleven

Kim jerked awake with the usual burst of adrenaline. Since his residency, he hadn’t slept more than three contiguous hours without an abrupt slam into consciousness, brain racing to solve whatever crisis was forming in the ER. But he wasn’t at the hospital. He was home. In his full-sized bed, which was infinitely less roomy with a full-sized Scuba Cowboy in it. A Scuba Cowboy who hogged not only the mattress but Kim’s pillow and breathed weird snuffling noises into Kim’s ear. It wasn’t a snore, more like a rumbling chuckle, like Shane’s dream was funny.

Kim had bizarre dreams and terrifying dreams and arousing dreams, but he couldn’t remember any funny dreams. He could count on his…nose the number of men who had slept the night with him in his bed. It was the same number of men who had sat on his couch with an artery-hardening amount of cheese dripping from a lickable chin, who grabbed the remote and flipped rapidly through television channels Kim didn’t even know he got.

Finally Shane had left it on the repeat of some asinine medical drama long enough for Kim to start pointing out at least fifteen inaccuracies in five minutes while Shane laughed and scooped up the last congealing slice off the cardboard.

They had fallen asleep on the couch with some sort of sports program droning in the background, Kim’s legs hooked around Shane’s where they flopped on the coffee table. Kim’s built-in timer didn’t have time to go off, because Shane woke Kim up by waving a plate of fluffy scrambled eggs and—were those biscuits?—under his nose. Jesus. He’d need to start a course of statins after today to counteract the effect on his arteries.

“You cook?” he asked.

“Well, I can make eggs.”

“And biscuits.” Despite his better judgment, Kim grabbed one and bit into flaky, sweet, buttery goodness. “I didn’t even know I possessed the necessary ingredients.”

“You didn’t, exactly. But I can wing it. I like to eat.”

Now after replaying that afternoon conversation in his head, Kim turned on his side and took advantage of Shane’s lack of consciousness to make a slow inspection. As much as he might like to eat, the hard lines of Shane’s body were clearly visible in the blue glow from the digital clock. He probably had one of those annoying metabolisms where he could eat a box of donuts and do nothing but fuck and sleep and never gain an ounce. Yoga did not provide sufficient cardio work to keep a body like Shane’s.

Despite the a/c, the midnight air was sticky with humidity, but when Kim brushed his hand across Shane’s shoulder, trying to push for a little more mattress space, the skin was as cool and dry as fresh sheets. If he was going to hog the bed, Kim would just sleep on top of him.

Shane’s eyes opened. “Sorry. Was I snoring?”

“No.”

Shane leaned up on an elbow and ran a hand through his hair, squeezing his scalp as if trying to wake himself up.

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