“I already told you about Shane−”
He cuts me off, saying, “And I already told you that using him as an excuse for not moving on is shitty.”
“Let me finish.” I drop my hand to his leg and he stares at it. “You’re right. I know it’s a crappy excuse. But the more I think about the whole thing, the more I realize that I’m not using him as an excuse in the way you think I am.” Moving my hand from his leg, I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to re-group all of my thoughts from earlier. “I don’t want to move on because I love him… no wait, I mean… it’s that… fuck,” I curse at my own inability to speak.
Conner’s less than welcoming attitude isn’t helping, but when he shifts in his seat, moves closer to me, and puts his hand over mine, I feel some of my sense return. I look into his dark brown eyes, feeling a sense of calm bathe over me. Letting out a deep breath, I finally feel like I have it all together. “If I don’t love anyone the way I loved him, I can’t let them down. They can’t hurt me when they leave.” My admission isn’t poetic or beautiful, but it’s honest and sincere.
“That’s no way to live.” He tightens his grip on my hand.
“I know. It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve kept myself from getting hurt.”
“But what’s been the cost?” Conner’s eyes warm even more, his concern for me, for us, crinkling in the corners.
“Hopefully not you.” My words dangle out there on some kind of precarious ledge, waiting for him to either push them over, or pull them back.
His huge arms wrap around me, pulling me tightly against his hard chest. “Not yet, but don’t test it again.”
A low chuckle escapes my mouth. “I’ll try my best.” My words are muffled against his shirt. He breaks the hug; a lopsided, but relieved grin, spreads across his face.
“Did you eat, yet?” I ask as he flops backward on the couch. His shoulders sag and his body looks wrung out. “Are you okay?”
Scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair, he creates that just-fucked look that his hair usually has. He huffs a loud sigh. “The last few days have been rough,” he admits, holding my stare.
“I’m sorry I screwed up.” Leaning back next to him, I twist our hands together, reveling in the warmth.
“I know.” He strokes his thumb over my wrist, a simple motion filled with so much meaning. “Just haven’t been able to eat or sleep much. About the only thing I have been able to do is workout. So I’m exhausted.” His yawn emphasizes what he’s just said.
“Stay here and relax.” I reach across him and click on the television. “I’ll go make us something to eat.” He laughs at that. “What? I can cook,” I defend, pretending to be insulted.
“I don’t doubt that. You’re just not going to find much in there.” He tips his head to the kitchen.
“Then you’re just going to have to trust me.” A wink accompanies my words, as I walk into the kitchen.
He calls out a final, “Good luck,” to my back.
Scanning through the cabinets and the fridge, I have to admit; he’s right. There’s nothing here. He wasn’t kidding when he said he’s spent all his time at the gym.
About ten minutes later, I’ve managed a simple meal. After setting our food down on the table, I call into the living room, but the only response I hear is the loud sound of Conner snoring.
The couch shifts under my weight, but Conner still doesn’t wake. With the lightest of touches, I ghost my fingers across his cheek, cradling his jaw. His eyes flutter open. “Hey.”
“Hi.” His voice is already sleep-roughened and raspy.
With the tips of my fingers, I comb through his hair, loving that he relaxes into my touch. “Come on. Let’s eat and then you can get some rest.” He nods, stumbling to his feet.
“Grilled cheese and soup?”
I roll my shoulders, and slide his plate in front of him. “It’s all you had. You really need to go shopping.”
“Sure, just let me sleep for like twelve hours.”
We share a laugh and enjoy our meal, but even after his ten-minute catnap, he’s still beyond tired. “I’ll get going, let you get some rest. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He yawns as I finish clearing the plates.
He wraps his arms around me from behind as I stand at the sink. Nuzzling into my neck, the whisker-roughed skin on his face scratches in the best of ways. “Can you stay?” His words fall timidly against my neck.
Nodding, I turn in his arms, looking at his relaxed-with-exhaustion face. “Of course.” I brush his hair away from his eyes and lean in for a kiss.
His lips are soft, passionately demanding. Within seconds, what I intended to be a sweet, innocent kiss, grows in intensity and heat. The edge of the counter bites into my back and the long, hard ridge of Conner’s erection presses against my own. Nipping and biting along my jaw forces an appreciative growl to escape my lips. Silencing me, his mouth returns to its assault on mine. Our tongues mingle together, a heated, velvety slide.
