Let Love Live #3
Her concession is sudden and it takes me more than a second to wrap my head around it.
When I ask her why she decided to do that for me, her eyes narrow and she points an accusing finger in my direction.
“I’m not doing it for you. I’m doing it for him.
Even if he decides to never see you again, he at least deserves your apology. ”
I nod, agreeing wholeheartedly with what she’s just said. “Thank you.”
She nods, and dismisses me as she answers a ringing phone.
Since I don’t know for certain what time he’ll be home, I decide to take up residence on his crumbling stoop around four thirty in the afternoon. I’m prepared to stay all night. I’m pretty sure that Rachel won’t tell him I’ll be here. She seemed like she meant what she said.
All I can do now is wait.
An hour later, my ass is more numb than I ever thought possible. Pins and needles shoot through my legs as I stand. Trying to bring them back to life, I take a short walk up the block. The loud rumble of a familiar motorcycle vibrates through the air, pulling my attention back to Conner’s building.
Covered in denim and leather, he’s the definition of a bad boy.
But knowing what’s underneath that gruff fighter exterior, that the tattoos and piercings are nothing more than for show, that he’s an honest and sincere man who is kind, caring and playful underneath it all, alters something deep inside of me.
The need to apologize, to get to know him even more, to give us a chance becomes so overpowering that rather than walk to him, I have to run.
As I approach him, he pulls off his helmet and shakes his head. “I already told you. I don’t want to talk.”
“You don’t have to talk.” Out of desperation, I reach for his hand, hoping he won’t shove me away. A sliver of hope comes alive as he looks at me. There’s something in his mocha eyes that tells me he might not have anything to say, but at least he’ll give me a chance to speak.
He doesn’t take my hand, but he doesn’t push me away. He doesn’t say anything, but he lets me speak.
“I’m sorry.” The rest of my words get stuck in my throat. I had them all planned out, but standing here in front of him, I can’t get any of them to function.
“Is that all?” His curt tone is icy. It cuts through me, making me realize just how much I screwed up.
I shake my head, frustrated with my own silence. “No, it’s not, but it’s a start. Can we go inside, please? The things I want to say don’t deserve to be said on a busy street corner.”
He nods, his body language suggesting he’s not thrilled with the idea. In stilted silence, we walk up the stairs and into his apartment. He ushers us into the living room where we sit across from each other on a small couch.
“You said you had something to say.” Coldly, he motions for me to start.
“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.
Only breaking away for a second, I strip him of his T-shirt, tracing my fingers over the dark lines of his tattoos.
Scratching my short nails up his chest, I stop briefly, plucking at his nipple rings, rendering him capable of only a growl and hip grind as a response.
The heat of his body is missed as he pulls away from me.
Pulling at my pants, he opens them with more finesse than I would have thought he was capable of.
In the next second, they’re on the floor along with my boxers.
The sight of Conner on his knees, stroking me as he looks up at me with hooded and lusty eyes is almost more than I can take.
When he pulls me into his mouth, rolls his tongue around the tip of my cock, I push deeper into his throat, needing more of his wet heat.
Groaned curses fall from my lips as he lets me fuck his mouth.
My hands immediately go to his hair, holding him in place. “Fuck, Con… oh, my God…”
Exhaustion give way to passion. This moment is as necessary as my next breath. Our connection is vital for my survival.
With an audible pop, my dick is freed from his mouth. “Stay right here,” he stands, pummeling my mouth with a hard, hot kiss. He disappears down the narrow hall where I assume his bedroom is. A minute later, he returns, lube and condom in hand – and completely naked.
The sight of his powerful body, of his thick, hard erection, bobbing under its own weight, of his beautifully decorated arms and chest, heightens my desire. The gentle glide of his lube-slickened hand over my dick almost makes me come like some teenager jerking off for the very first time.