Page 29 of Strawberry Kisses

Chapter Thirteen

Patrick

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. I could hardly remember a thing except for the feel of Connor’s mouth against mine.

I had no idea what had possessed me to kiss him. He’d just looked so beautiful, but also so worried, like he’d somehow done something wrong, and it was the only thing I could think to do to cheer him up. Which was utterly ridiculous when I thought about it. Kissing someone doesn’t fix their problems.

Except it had made Connor smile, so I was struggling to remember why it was a bad idea. And then he’d kissed me, so it couldn’t have been the worst thing in the world.

I still didn’t know what had upset him. He’d looked a little uncomfortable at various points throughout the evening, and I wondered if my family had been a bit too overbearing. To me, they’d been pretty well behaved. Even if my mum had brought up our supposed sex life. But they were very nosy, and there were a lot of them. Even I got overwhelmed sometimes, and I was related to most of them.

Glancing at myself in the bathroom mirror, I took a deep breath and headed back to the bedroom across the corridor. Connor had offered me the shower first, so I’d left him to relax while I splashed through and brushed my teeth. I’d remembered to pack an old T-shirt and shorts for pyjamas, even though half the time I just crashed out in my boxers or naked. But since we’d be sharing a bed, I’d figured that wasn’t appropriate. Even as best friends we weren’t that close.

Besides, I didn’t think I’d be able to see Connor half-undressed without having a very inappropriate reaction, and my shorts weren’t going to cover that. I’d die of embarrassment if I somehow got a hard-on in front of Connor.

“Bathroom’s free,” I said as I stepped into the bedroom and shut the door behind me. I turned towards the bed and promptly dropped the armful of clothes I was carrying. Connor was doing some sort of stretch in a pair of tight, pink briefs, socks, and his T-shirt. His ass was sticking up while his hands and feet rested on the floor.

My dick throbbed, perking up immediately at the sight of Connor’s perfect, round ass bobbing in the air. I grabbed my clothes off the floor, holding them at crotch height and praying Connor didn’t notice because that was one conversation I wouldn’t survive.

“Oh, sorry.” Connor tilted his head to the side and looked up at me, smiling. “My legs were super tight after being in the car all afternoon, so I thought I’d do a quick stretch. I thought you’d be longer than you were. If I’d have known you were only going to be ten minutes, I’d have put leggings on.” He stood up, his cheeks a little pink, but I didn’t know if that was because he was flustered from me catching him or because all the blood had rushed to his head. I was going to go with the second.

“It’s fine,” I said, looking in his direction but not at him. “I’m sorry for surprising you.”

“No, um, it’s not a problem.”

There was an awkward pause.

“So, Mum left us a couple of towels in the bathroom. I left you the purple one. It’s on the rail.”

“Oh, awesome. Thanks!” Connor slid past me and opened his suitcase, rummaging in it for his wash bag as I tried desperately not to look at his ass. Even though I’d seen it a hundred times in his pole videos and in those tiny shorts he wore in the summer, seeing him now was different. It was so much more intimate than those situations. And I had absolutely no right to perv on him. I was being a creepy bastard, and I knew it.

I tore my gaze away, looking at the bed and realising Connor had removed the pile of excess cushions, piling them neatly on the floor so we could actually get into the bed.

“Back in a minute,” Connor called, closing the door behind him. My breath came out in a rush, and I dropped the clothes I was still holding onto the bed. I needed to get a hold of myself, otherwise tonight was going to be painful. Maybe I should have jerked off in the shower, but that would probably just have made me feel guilty. I almost always managed to avoid thinking about Connor when I masturbated because I knew it was crossing some sort of boundary, even if it was just a fantasy.

I shook my head and tried to clear my thoughts, but that didn’t do anything except mix them up further. It was like I was trying to separate a cake mix after it had been beaten—absolutely impossible. Instead, I folded my clothes, separating out the dirty items from the ones I could wear again before climbing into bed with my book and my phone.

Skimming through Facebook didn’t particularly hold my interest, and since there were no messages from Darcie or Aaron about any sort of kitchen disaster, I put my phone on the bedside table. I picked up the battered mystery novel I’d packed, hoping it would calm my racing mind. It was an old Agatha Christie Poirot story that I’d read a thousand times before. I probably could have recited it word for word in my sleep, but I loved the warm familiarity of it. There was something wonderfully comforting about reading a book I knew well, like curling up with an old friend or listening to someone I loved tell me the same story I’d heard a million times before but knew they were going to tell me again.

Soon I found myself lost in the cosy pages while Poirot investigated the death of Ruth Kettering aboard Le Train Bleu. I was still reading when Connor appeared again, looking refreshed and cheerful in a pair of shorts and a loose T-shirt that had a colourful cartoon character across the chest.

“Another Poirot?” he asked as he dumped the clothes and the large wash bag he’d been holding and gave me a wry smile.

“I like Poirot,” I said, slightly defensively, as Connor wriggled into bed beside me holding his Kindle.

“I never said it was a bad thing.” He grinned. “One day we should swap books and see what happens. You can read one of my romance novels while I read your mysteries.” I swallowed. Connor had a thing for very steamy gay romance novels, and although there was nothing wrong with that, I honestly wasn’t sure I’d be able to cope with the second-hand embarrassment. I mean, it had taken me three years to be comfortable with even searching for porn. I didn’t know if I’d be able to cope knowing that Connor knew what I was reading. My face would probably be bright red the entire time.

“Er, yeah. Maybe.” It hadn’t quite been the answer I’d wanted to give, but I was terrible at telling Connor no. Hopefully that would be vague enough for me to put it off for the foreseeable future.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but you might enjoy it. And I promise not to make you read one that opens with fucking or one that has a gangbang. I’ll find you something sweet.”

I stared at him open-mouthed. I was pretty sure my naivety was written all over my shocked expression.

“You should see your face.” Connor giggled. “You’re so cute!”

“Thanks. I think.” I sighed. Maybe it would be fun to read something different for a change, and maybe it would help me to stop being so embarrassed every time someone mentioned anything to do with sex. And maybe it would even be fun. I’d never read anything like that before. “Fine then. You can read this, and I’ll read one of yours.”

I took my thumb out of the book, making a mental note of my page and handing it over. Connor’s grin was a mixture of pure innocent sweetness and utter wickedness, and it made my insides turn somersaults. He tapped his Kindle’s screen a couple of times and presented it to me.

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