I was a happy fucking man.
A painfully hard, happy man.
29
Teddy
I was floating, my throat hoarse from screaming Connor’s name. Something I never thought I’d do, but here we were.
My legs felt boneless beneath me, like they’d forgotten what they were for, and I had to brace a hand against the wall just to stay upright. My heart beat wildly, still trying to catch up, and my skin felt too sensitive for air, for fabric, for the way he was still so close.
Connor got to his feet slowly, pulling up my jeans, kissing my hip once before covering them with the fabric. His hands came to my hips, solid and reliable, while my body settled back into itself. I swallowed hard, my chest lifting too fast, then finally forced myself to look at him… And he was smiling at me.
Not smug. Not smug at all. But it was wide and a little giddy, like he was as undone as I was, like he couldn’t quite believe we’d just crossed whatever line that was either.
“What?” I managed, my voice wrecked.
He didn’t answer. He just shifted his grip and scooped me up like I weighed nothing.
I yelped, wrapping my arms around his neck on instinct. “Connor—What are you doing?”
He laughed, low and easy, as he strutted with me in his arms into my living area. “Well,” he said, adjusting his hold like this was always the plan, “you talked up this couch of yours in the car. Figured I’d like to sit on it with you. Maybe watch TV. Talk. Whatever.” His eyes flicked to mine, expression softening. “But I’m not letting you spiral about what we just did.”
Heat still buzzing under my skin, I searched his face. “Oh.” I hesitated, then added, quieter, “Don’t you”—I looked down at his jeans, at the outline of his cock, straining underneath the zipper—“want anything from me?”
Maybe he didn’t want me like that after all.
His steps slowed as he looked at me again as we approached my couch,reallylooked at me, like he was clocking every flicker of doubt before tucking it away.
“Hey,” he said gently. “That’s not what this is.”
He lowered me onto the couch with care, then crouched in front of me so we were eye level. His hands stayed on my knees, thumbs brushing small, grounding circles.
“I want you,” he said easily, like it was obvious. “But I didn’t do that because I expected anything back. I did it because I wanted to. Because you wanted it. We can keep this as casual as you need it to be.”
My chest tightened, in a good way, a scary way because it felt like he understood that it could be difficult for this to be public.
“I just—” I started, then stopped, huffing out a quiet laugh. “I don’t usually let people do things for me.”
His mouth tilted. “That’s no way to live.”
Leaning in, he pressed a quick kiss to my forehead, then another to the corner of my mouth, unhurried and warm as he sat next to me. “You don’t owe me anything, Teddy.”
I studied him, searching for the catch, for the shift, for the moment he pulled away.
It didn’t come. “And you’re sure you’re okay keeping this quiet for now? You understand why, right?”
He nudged his shoulder against my thigh and settled back, stretching out along the couch like he belonged there. “I understand why, and I still want you. Now,” he said, patting the small space between us, “come here. Before you overthink yourself into a full spiral.”
I snorted. “You’re very bossy for someone who just said I didn’t owe him anything.”
“Occupational hazard,” he replied. “Captain and all.”
I shook my head, smiling, and slid closer. When my fingers found his hair and raked through it without thinking, he hummed low in his throat, eyes closing for half a second, head tipping in my hands. He became putty.
“That feels so fucking good,” he growled.
The sound sent a surprise thrill through me. I felt a sense of power, maybe. Or trust. I let my fingers sink a little deeper, scratching lightly at his scalp, and he exhaled like I’d taken something heavy off his shoulders.
