In Love With My Mobster Best Friend (mxmxm)

TWENTY-FOUR: HEATH

Media: Treat You Better – Shawn Mendes

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Heath's POV

I forced myself to breathe quietly, my arm over my eyes as I tried to calm my emotions. I was stronger than this. I had more self-control than this. Keep it together.

I heard a thud outside and I held my breath instantly. A soft curse rang out from outside, and I couldn't help the grin on my face as I shook my head. I caught myself quickly, pulling my arm from my eyes and running my hand over my face instead.

God, what is this man doing to me?

I groaned inwardly, hating that my heart was racing at the thought of Coe, who was outside my bedroom, finally deciding that he was going to unpack his luggage into a corner after we had a long discussion earlier. I wanted him to at least unpack into my cupboard instead of living out of a suitcase. He was adamant that he didn't want to be more trouble, that he was perfectly fine with a corner in the living room.

I argued my point, he contended back. I lost that argument, rather quickly, and he was now making his own hamster nest of a corner in the living room. I growled.

I hated that I couldn't give him a room in my place. I hated that I made the decision years ago to have only one bedroom in this apartment. I hated that I didn't have the foresight to know that one day I may have a guest over. I hated that it was so difficult for me to invite Coe into my bedroom, into my bed, to share it with me.

Truthfully, it shouldn't be that difficult. My bed was big enough to accommodate at least four full-grown men easily. I could easily invite him into my room to share my bed if he didn't want me to take the couch.

In theory, it should not have been a problem. But after the first few times trying to get Coe to take my bed and for me to take the couch, I realized that I probably would never win an argument with Coe, ever.

And it wasn't because he was more dominant over me. It wasn't because he was fierce, or that I feared him, or that he made more sense than I did, or that he raised his voice with me. No. He was and did none of those things.

I would lose an argument every time because each time he tries to drive a point, every time he gets frustrated and wants me to see things his way, he bites his goddamn lips, and I just want to do anything he wants me to so that I could make him stop doing that. I would give up the argument because I was afraid I had to resort to other methods to get him to stop biting those damn lips.

I sighed, not caring that I was loud and that Coe might hear me from outside since he didn't have the television on.

God, I can't ignore my feelings for him, not anymore. Not when I know how those same feelings are making me hesitate to ask him to share my bed.

I know, if it were any other man who just needed a place to crash, I could probably ask them to share a side of my bed, quite easily, if I trusted them.

But it wasn't trust that was the problem here with Coe. I trusted him alright, a bit too much in fact. After all, I trusted him enough to let him have free reign in my home, to do what ever he wanted as long as he kept away from things that he might hurt himself with: namely the weapons I have tucked away in this house.

No, the problem is that I was painfully attracted to this man that was in love with my boss. That's the problem.

I know that if we shared a bed, I might feel something more for him that I don't already feel. I know that the attraction that I have for him will grow. I know that if given the chance, if I keep letting my guard down in front of him like that, I might do something that will scare him away.