15. PARKER
FIFTEEN
PARKER
I’m left staring at him like an idiot because even with everything we’ve talked about tonight, those were the last words I expected him to say.
“F-for … pity?” I’m confused.
Connor snorts and slides closer. “I never kissed you out of some sort of charity.”
Right. No. He’s figuring himself out, and I’m the only one he can do this with. That actually makes a lot more sense and means that I won’t lose all respect for him—and for myself for wanting to do it anyway, pity or not.
Fuck, I want to kiss him, but he’s still in that confused space, and I … I don’t know what the best move is here. I have exactly zero experience talking someone through a big gay panic and even less experience supporting someone as a friend. But I spilled everything to him, and he’s still sitting here, looking at me with big, sweet eyes, and I … still need to answer him.
“Umm … the thing is …”
He quickly slides back again. “I’m overstepping. I get it.”
“No!” I cringe at how unintentionally loud that was. “It’s not that. I have no experience with … all this. ”
Connor’s eyes snap open. “You’re a virgin?”
“ No .” I almost roll my eyes at him. “This whole gay, bi, whatever guru thing. I always sort of knew who I was, so I have no clue what you’re going through.”
The slow smile he gives me skitters nerves through my gut. “I don’t need a guru. I have my brother and Knox for that. All I need and all I’m asking for is a kiss. If it’s a no, that’s okay. I get it. But it should be a no because you don’t want it. Not all that other stuff.”
“I want it,” I practically whisper.
“I think I should be clear that I only mean kissing. This whole thing is?—”
“A lot. I know. Kissing is fine. Great, even.” Just the prospect of getting to kiss him with it leading nowhere is making my head swim. I’d been ready to accept affection from just about anyone, but from him? I’d never even hoped this could be a possibility.
“Just kissing?” he checks.
“As much kissing as you need.”
He tries to be subtle about his deep inhale, but then his eyes harden, and a determined look crosses his face. He’s clearly nervous as he moves closer, but there’s something in his eyes that tells me he wants this, maybe even as much as I do. A small part of me wishes I could be someone else. Someone hotter and bigger who could hold the attention of a guy like Connor Kikishkin.
But then I remember, for better or worse, I’m mostly okay with being me.
And it’s this me that gets to kiss him right now.
He leans in, and I give him all the space he needs to take his time. It’s fucking torture as his lips close the distance, and the second they’re back on mine, that same high hits me.
I didn’t imagine it. There’s no way I could dream up a kiss like this.
His hand comes up to cup my face, the warmth covering my cheek, kiss still soft, hesitant, and I know, in this moment, that I’ll never recover from being kissed by him.
His tongue sweeps over my lips, and I part them, letting him in. Other than his hand, we’re not touching anywhere else, and somehow, it’s perfect and torture all at once. I want to grip his hair, want to climb into his lap, want to press as close to him as I can and soak in his presence. But he said he’s not ready for all of that, so I’ll keep my ass planted on this couch, dick uncomfortably trapped along my right thigh, and enjoy the fact I’m getting this at all.
His kiss deepens, strong tongue taking the lead, hand slipping from my cheek to hold the back of my neck. The ownership in that one movement has me wrenching away.
“What’s wrong?” His hand is still there. Still solidly, possessively, holding me in place and with only a few inches between us.
I really think I’m in danger of doing something I was only joking about before. “We said only kissing.”
“Yeah …”
Of course he isn’t taking the hint and is going to make me spell it out. “Connor … I am very gay and very attracted to you and very, very into the way you’re taking control. Please let go of my neck.”
His gaze drops to where his hand is, almost like he didn’t even realize he’d done it. Typical. That Connor is that sexy when he doesn’t even mean to be.
He swallows, thumb running from where it’s resting under my ear and down my throat. Chills race down my spine.
“You like this?”
“Too much. And I’d really like to keep my word, so you’re going to have to help me out here.”
He releases me, and it’s a relief and a disappointment all in one.
Before he can question me or probe more into my reaction, I jump in first .
“Did that help?”
“I liked it if that’s what you’re asking.” He licks his swollen bottom lip. “I really liked it.”
“Okay.”
“So I guess that means something.”
“I guess.”
He hasn’t moved back again, and when he stretches his arm along the back of the couch, it’s close enough I could rest my head on it. Like a cat. I don’t because I’m worried my self-control has done enough heavy lifting for one night.
Damn it’s hard not to move closer though. It would take no effort to lean forward and press against his chest. To inhale that aftershave and his warmth.
But would that be too weird?
Experimental kissing feels vastly different from staying and hanging out. Maybe holding me a little.
“I really want to do it again,” he admits softly.
“I really, really want that too. But maybe not now.”
He nods quickly. “Sorry I ruined your hookup. You could have been getting some instead of dealing with my issues.”
Maybe I’m weird, but if I was given a choice over where I wanted the night to go, I would have picked this. Hell, I kind of did. Connor asked me not to hook up, but if I’d wanted to, that wouldn’t have stopped me.
The guy’s probably blocked me by this point. I don’t have a single part of me that cares.
“Actually, you probably saved me a whole lot of awkwardness.”
“Really?”
I refuse to look at him. “I don’t think he would have given me what I wanted.”
“It’s not like I am either.”
“Actually, you’re giving me something no one has in a while.”
“A high school make-out session? ”
I scoff. “We both know I didn’t have any of those.”
“Break my heart some more.” Thankfully, I can recognize that’s his mostly teasing voice. “If not that, what is it?”
“My ex and I broke up earlier this year.”
Connor’s face falls. “Was he a dick?”
The snappishness to his words is a surprise, but I don’t hate it. “He was … fine. Nice. I thought we’d end up married and all that, but apparently, he didn’t think the same. I’m a bit … particular about things.”
“What type of things?”
“Normal things,” I say defensively. “Like, don’t throw all your clothes in an overnight bag for a week-long trip and hope you remembered enough underwear.”
He makes a “pfft” noise. “That’s common sense. Also, don’t pack in advance because your clothes get all wrinkled. The less time in the suitcase, the better.”
“Exactly. And who doesn’t put their damn cup in the dishwasher once they’re done with it? Don’t leave your underwear lying on the floor. That kind of thing.”
“You sound like a bit of a neat freak.”
“ No . My head gets messy enough that I don’t need everything around me messy as well.”
“You? Messy?”
“I hide it well,” I say dryly. “But while all that was building up in me, my working too much was the deal breaker for him.”
“Do you miss him?” Connor’s full of the big questions tonight.
“No. Yes.” I’ve never been more articulate.
“So you still love him?”
“No.”
“But you miss him? He sounds like an asshole.”
That’s the thing. He really wasn’t one. “I miss having someone.” I don’t want to say the next part out loud. “I love sex, but sometimes it doesn’t hit that … that other side of me.”
“You’re not making any sense. ”
“I like intimacy, but that doesn’t have to mean sex.”
“You mean, like, blowjobs?”
I grunt in frustration and bury my face in my hands. Then, with my whole head feeling on fire, I murmur, “I like to be cuddled, okay?”
“Cuddled?” Of course Connor barely understands the word.
“Yes.” I get the courage to glare at his confused expression. “When I’m falling asleep. I like it, okay? Sue me.”
“I can’t say I’ve thought much about that before.”
“Maybe you should try it before you laugh at me.”
“I’m not laughing.” He holds his hands up in defense … while clearly holding back a laugh.
“Sure. What part about that sound trying to escape you would give me that impression?”
It finally gets out. “I’m down if you are.”
My head snaps up to meet his gaze. “What?”
“Cuddling.” His lips twitch, and he holds out his hand. “Show me what all the fuss is about. I don’t think I’m ready for anything else, but cuddling, I can do. Or maybe I can’t. I guess we’ll wait and see. Maybe I’ve been a closeted cuddler this whole time, but because society says it means more and could give my hookups hope of being the next Mrs. NHL Player, I’ve never risked it.”
I’m numb as I take his hand, and he pulls me to my feet. “Explain to me what’s happening here.”
I watch in shock as Connor unbuttons his shirt. “Do you have a T-shirt I can borrow?”
He might as well be speaking in another language, though, because as his abs are revealed, my brain goes offline. Then the fucker flexes them.
“Stop.” I cover my eyes. “Check the drawers. There’s something in there.” Don’t make me think after having those incredible abs burned onto my brain .
The sound of the drawer sliding open reaches me. “You actually unpack?”
“Weird, remember?”
“Nope. If you’re weird, I’m weird too, and I refuse to let Easton and Knox be right about that. Unpacking stops the wrinkles . The wrinkles, Parker! ”
My name from his lips in a playful manner makes this whole situation even more surreal.
Material hits me in the face, and I pull my hands away to find a T-shirt. Is this actually happening?
I pass him to grab some sleep shorts, then disappear into the bathroom to change. My heart is hammering so loudly I can hear it in my ears, and after I’m done washing my face and brushing my teeth and make it back to the bedroom, Connor’s already in my bed.
Connor Kikishkin.
Is in my bed.
He flicks the covers back. “Come on, then. Don’t make this weird.”
“Everything about this is weird.”
But I climb in beside him anyway because it’s either that or stand there and let my knees give out.
He’s bare-chested, which is totally unfair.
“What happened to borrowing a shirt?”
“Yeah,” he draws out the word. “None of your stuff fits me.”
Makes sense.
He lets the blankets drop over us, and I roll over onto my side. A moment later, Connor’s large body curls around me.
I almost forget to breathe. His scent is strong, his grip is tight, and even though I’m probably going into cardiac arrest, it’s worth risking death for this.
However temporary.
He’s holding me, and for a moment, that loneliness in my heart settles.