Page 31 of Strawberry Kisses

Chapter Fourteen

Connor

I’d been a morning person ever since I could remember. I was a naturally early riser no matter how late I stayed up the night before.

When I’d been a student, I’d happily go clubbing until three in the morning then get up at seven for a nine o’clock class looking fresh as a daisy. While I wasn’t quite that good anymore, I sometimes worked late shifts at The Pear Tree, got home about midnight or one, and then woke up at six to stretch and be at the studio at eight to open up. I’d never been one of those people who could lounge around in bed all morning. I always needed to be doing something. It had driven more than one ex crazy in the past because they’d always wanted to spend Saturday mornings in bed sleeping, fucking, and then sleeping again. The fucking I had no problem with as long as the sex was good. It was the endless need to sleep that annoyed me. The sex needed to be pretty fucking spectacular to demand sleep afterwards, and so far, I’d never met anyone who lived up to that. It took a lot to wear me out.

So it surprised me when I woke with my arm wrapped around Patrick and my leg thrown across his, that my first reaction wasn’t to roll over, stretch, and sit up. Instead, I snuggled in farther, breathing in his sweet scent. He always smelt like icing sugar and something warm, like cinnamon, whether he was in or out of the kitchen. I couldn’t explain it. I just wanted to fill my senses with it or bottle it and take it with me wherever I went.

That probably sounded creepy, but I didn’t care.

My boundaries with Patrick had gone from a slightly blurred friendship to all kinds of fucked up and weird in the past twenty-four hours, and I’d decided I was just going to lean into it. If Patrick was my boyfriend for the next three days, then I was going to act like it. Although if he really was my boyfriend, I wouldn’t have quickly jerked off in the shower last night thinking about him. I’d have walked back into the bedroom, dropped my towel, and crawled into bed with him.

I’d vaguely considered that I should feel guilty for getting off on ideas of fucking Patrick, but I was going to file that under “this weekend’s fucked-up boundaries” and keep it there. It was like the whole “what happens in Vegas” mantra, except it was what happened in Devon. The consequences of my actions could all be ignored until Tuesday at the earliest, at which point I’d probably just drown my sorrows in cheese, gin, and terrible Netflix movies.

Besides, there was a good chance if I hadn’t gotten off last night that I’d have woken up really horny this morning, and that would not have worked. Especially considering I was sprawled over Patrick with my dick pressed against his thigh.

Patrick shifted underneath me, letting out a sleepy little sigh. I flicked my eyes up towards his face, wondering if he was awake yet or still dreaming. Patrick had always looked hella fucking adorable when he slept, and I wasn’t going to miss out on getting my fill now.

I tilted my head slightly, casting my eyes up and across his round face. His grey eyes flickered open behind his long lashes, blinking at me sleepily. He smiled and sighed, his arm wrapping around me to pull me momentarily closer.

“Mornin’,” he muttered, voice still thick with sleep.

“Good morning.” I knew I sounded perky—the sort of perky that made most men want to turf me out of bed for being too awake or immediately demand a blowjob to help them wake up too. The more I thought about it, the more I realised I’d just dated assholes and fuckbois in the past. Once upon a time, I’d thought I had standards, but apparently not.

Patrick smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of my head. “Do you want to get up?” he asked. “Or can I keep you for another two minutes?”

“Hmm, I’ll allow it,” I said with mock sincerity. “I might even let you keep me for five.”

“So generous.” He laughed, his body shaking gently. “What time is it?”

“I have no clue. I haven’t actually moved yet. You’re too comfortable.”

“It’s nice to know my purpose in life is to be your pillow.”

“It’s your secondary purpose.” I snuggled into him again. “Your first purpose is to bake me cake.”

“So I feed you and let you sleep on me? Have I adopted another cat? You’re about the same size as The President so it makes sense.”

“Ha, ha. So funny.” I lifted his T-shirt and blew a raspberry on his stomach, trying to ignore how his warm, soft skin felt under my lips and the trail of dark-blond hair that ran down to the waistband of his shorts. I wanted to run my tongue through it.

Patrick yelped, and I grinned, flopping back on the bed next to him. I raised an eyebrow in challenge and Patrick rolled over. My legs spread around him as his hands gently gripped my wrists and pinned me to the bed. I wanted nothing more than to wrap my legs around his hips and pull him against me, grinding up against him until we both came in our shorts. Desire burned under my skin, filling me up and scorching me from the inside out. I felt my cock stirring, thickening and pushing against the thin material constraining it.

A moan tried to escape my lips, but I caught it on my tongue.

My hips shifted of their own accord, desperately seeking friction.

Patrick’s mouth was inches from mine. It would be so easy to kiss him, to pull him to me and claim his mouth. His eyes were wide, but there was heat burning there. His tongue darted out to lick his lips, and I suddenly realised just how perfect they were.

My hips moved, brushing against his. My cock was hard and aching now, demanding attention and touch. As I moved, I felt my dick brush against Patrick’s, which was also hard enough to pound nails. Shit. That made everything so much more real, but it didn’t mean I wanted it any less.

Patrick’s hips gave an aborted thrust. This time I couldn’t keep the moan from sliding past my lips.

“Patrick…” My voice was quiet but so fucking needy. He froze. His mouth was half-open, and I didn’t know whether he wanted to speak, groan, or kiss me until I’d forgotten my own name. I honestly didn’t mind which option he chose. I just needed him to make a decision.

But apparently the world had decided to take the decision out of our hands entirely.

Two seconds later there was a loud knock on the door, and Aoife’s voice sounded from the other side. “I’m sorry to disturb you boys, but if you’re up, we could really do with another pair of hands to help set up before the caterers get here.”

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