Nash said, punctuating his request with the press of a kiss to Ford’s back as he pulled him in, curling his body around him. Ford’s body tensed at the invitation. He knew Nash could probably feel it too. And what the fuck was he thinking, even considering it? He should have insisted Nash take him home after they’d left the hospital. Mixed signals were flying every which way, and the deep regret that came with a mistake this huge threatened to take hold. “I have a guest room if you’d be more comfortable…,” Nash continued, his voice trailing off. Ford knew what Nash wanted him to say. He knew what he wanted to say. But the thought of letting himself fall into a situation where he was essentially living there, to let Nash take care of him, to worry about him like that, was overwhelming. He liked Nash, almost too much. His head and his heart were at war on this one. On the one hand, he liked having Nash close. His skin was like a drug, and Ford couldn’t get enough. Any chance to touch him, he’d take it.
