Chapter Eighteen
Anew store was opening on Main Street. Oakdale’s quaint charm had enticed a young couple from Omaha, and they’d moved out here to open a specialty coffee shop.
It was across the street from Jenny’s Diner, a decision Sam could only assume had been made with the conviction that artisanal pour-over coffees and homemade cold brew trumped the molten pot of Folgers kept on the warmer at Jenny’s. The couple was in for a rude surprise.
Connor was booked that afternoon to add a bunch of extra outlets to the store’s interior and tidy up some of the wiring that had come loose during renovations.
When Sam finished the run sheet for the following day, he locked up the office and ducked into Jenny’s for takeout coffee before walking across the street to make a surprise visit.
The windows were still covered with newspaper to hide the unfinished upgrades inside, but a brand-new sign hung out front, christening the place Caffeination.
Sam chortled and pushed against the door with his shoulder, stepping inside.
He spotted Connor crouched in a corner, pulling a disconnected cable from the wall.
The look on his face was part concerned, part exasperated.
“I brought coffee,” Sam announced.
Connor glanced up, breaking into a smile. “Just in time.” He capped the wire and slipped off his yellow safety gloves then stood and brushed the dirt from the knees of his overalls before walking over to Sam. “This is why you don’t DIY. They’ve cut through two wires while replacing the drywall.”
“Uh-oh.” Sam handed him one of the takeout cups.
“If I can’t figure out where they’re supposed to go, I’ll have to open it all up again. There’s no way I can sign off on the job otherwise.”
“That’s no fun.”
Connor took a sip of coffee and tapped the lip of his cup against Sam’s in a belated toast. “Thank you.”
“Thank you for giving me a chance to indulge my curiosity. I’ve been wondering what’s going on behind here.
” Sam looked around the large open space.
It was painted a bold monochrome and remained empty except for a custom-built wooden serving counter fixed to the concrete floor.
He ran a palm over the polished marble countertop.
“Swanky. Jenny’s going to have a hard time topping this. ”
“Yeah, but can you imagine Bert Mansfeld coming in here, asking for an espresso?”
“He’ll want his eggs over easy only to discover they don’t do eggs—or food for that matter. Just six-dollar cups of free-trade coffee.”
“Six dollars for coffee?” Connor gave a mock gasp. “What a racket!”
“But don’t tell them that—we’ll burst their hipster bubble.”
“I’m going to have to do that anyway if I can’t find out where those damn wires terminate.
” Connor put his cup down and beckoned Sam close.
With a little grunt, he lifted Sam up onto the counter.
Sam looped his arms around Connor’s neck and leaned in, teasing their lips apart.
Connor made a low rumble in his throat and opened his mouth to deepen the kiss.
It wasn’t the first time that day. Emboldened by their postmovie grope fest, Sam had jumped Connor when he’d arrived at the office that morning and kissed him against the wall of filing boxes.
Then, because Connor was working around the corner, they’d met for lunch at the diner, hands bumping purposely beneath the table of their booth.
Sam had never waited this long before having sex.
More often than not, sex was used in lieu of getting to know someone, so he rushed into it almost to get it over with.
He’d certainly never felt this comfortable around a guy he hadn’t slept with.
Louise’s advice to take things slow and Connor’s unflappable patience meant that for the first time, Sam knew—really knew—he wanted it before it happened.
Not to mention he’d spent the entire weekend fantasizing about Connor having his way with him.
When they broke apart, Sam nuzzled his nose against Connor’s cheek. “I love it when you talk shop. Look at you, down there on the floor with your tools out.”
Connor chuckled, but when he spoke, his voice was husky. “Well, I am on a job, so I should probably keep both hands and tools to myself.”
“That’s fair. Keep it professional.”
Connor’s mouth formed a frustrated pout, and Sam kissed him again, wanting to put him out of his misery.
“I should go,” Sam said when they finally resurfaced, breathing hard. “Let you get back to work.”
“Uh-huh.” The longing in Connor’s eyes made work seem like the last thing on his mind.
Sam slid from the counter, palming Connor’s ass on the way down. Funny that it had taken Connor pressing pause for Sam to realize how desperate he was to get into the man’s pants. There was a lull as both of them attempted to draw out the moment and avoid the inevitable departure.
Connor was the first to make a move. “I was wondering, after I finish up for the day, did you want to come over for dinner? I can make a half-decent pasta bake.”
“Sure,” Sam said, fighting the flutter in his chest. “Text me when you’re done.”
Then he stood on his toes to give Connor one last peck before ducking out the door and heading back to the office.
As he walked, unable to keep the manic grin from his face, his stomach flip-flopped with anticipation.
After a day of playful nudges and stolen kisses, he had a feeling dinner would fall by the wayside.
When Sam showed up at Connor’s apartment later that evening, his suspicions were confirmed.
Within moments of walking through the door, they found themselves together on top of Connor’s bed, kissing furiously.
He loved the way Connor looked at him, like every moan, every shudder was a turn-on.
It was strange to feel so sexy, so wanted.
A new hunger had replaced the languid pace of their previous make-out sessions. Sam rolled Connor over and straddled him. “I’ve decided what I want,” he said, surprised by his directness. “You, naked.”
He reached for the hem of Connor’s T-shirt, and Connor helped him pull it over his head. He was beautiful, his chest toned and firm and speckled with a dusting of black hair. Sam pulled off his own shirt and felt Connor’s growing stiffness through his pants, sending Sam’s pulse racing.
“Believe me, the feeling’s mutual,” Connor said, staring up at him with a look of unbridled wonder.
He raised his fingers to Sam’s chest and skimmed them across his bare skin, making Sam shiver.
Then Connor dropped his hand to unfasten the button on Sam’s jeans and unzipped him.
He tugged the jeans down over Sam’s hips before guiding him onto his back to pull them off completely.
Connor moved his palm to the inside of Sam’s thigh, making small circles with the pad of his thumb.
“Can I touch you?” he murmured.
“Yeah.” Sam’s voice was tight, almost pleading.
Connor slid down Sam’s briefs and brushed Sam’s hardening cock with the tips of his fingers, teasing at first before taking it in his grasp.
As he stroked him, Connor brought his lips to Sam’s collarbone then grazed lower to envelop Sam’s nipples, rolling his tongue back and forth as they stiffened.
Sam groaned, goose bumps rising along his skin.
He realized Connor still had his pants on, and he fumbled to reach for the man’s belt. Connor straightened to help with the buckle, and Sam yanked eagerly at the waistband.
“Show me,” Sam said.
He sat up for a better view, and Connor rose from the bed to slide down his pants.
He seemed unusually shy when he stepped out of his boxers to reveal the impressive curve of his cock.
Sam gave a murmur of approval and made no effort to hide his delight as he took in Connor in all his naked glory.
Connor ducked his head with a laugh and returned to bed, covering Sam’s face in hungry kisses.
“Can I?” Sam asked against the press of his mouth and snaked a hand between Connor’s legs. He usually wasn’t one to ask, but the way Connor made checking in part of the foreplay was infectious.
Connor nodded, and his breath quickened as Sam drew his fist down the length of him.
He reached again for Sam’s cock, and they moved together, stroking and kissing and enjoying the feel of another hand in place of their own.
Connor lowered his lips to Sam’s stomach, planting a line of kisses that stopped just below his navel.
He raised his head, his face flushed with desire. “God, I want you in my mouth.”
Sam nodded vigorously. “Please.”
He moaned as Connor brought his lips to the head of his cock.
He seemed to savor it, biding his time before taking the shaft deeper into his mouth.
Sam hissed, and his head slumped against the pillow.
It felt incredible. He couldn’t remember how long it had been.
But there was something different too; the noise in his head was muted, the usual fears momentarily silenced.
He wasn’t worried about saying or doing the wrong thing or whether he was too eager or not eager enough.
Connor made him feel like none of that mattered.
He was aware only of the enveloping warmth of Connor’s mouth and the low hum of pleasure coming from the man’s throat as he sucked him.
Sam’s world had narrowed to a single point of focus—he and Connor together—and nothing could permeate the bubble.
Connor moved faster now, one hand gripping him at the base as he flicked his tongue along the sensitive underside of Sam’s shaft. Sam felt himself beginning to unravel.
“Wait, Connor, I want...” He gasped. He wanted more, more of him, all of him. The words swirled in his head, and his body ached with the injustice of having to form words at all. Feelings were so much easier. “I want...”
Connor stopped and lifted his head, studying him intently. Sam knew whatever he said, Connor would listen—no questions asked. Even if he told Connor to take his hands off him that instant.
But that wasn’t what the heat pumping through Sam’s veins was telling him. He’d never been so sure of anything in his life.
Sam sucked in a breath. “I want you to fuck me,” he said, his voice hitching.