Page 40 of Strawberry Kisses

Chapter Eighteen

Patrick

There was a wild sparkle in Connor’s eyes and a fierce grin on his plush lips as we spun to a stop, our hands clutching on to each other. My chest was heaving, but I wasn’t just out of breath from the dancing. Something about Connor made me feel alive. His energy was electric.

I was utterly entranced. My heart pounded, want surging through me. Was it odd to feel this way after dancing together? It wasn’t as if we’d done anything particularly sexy, but just the feel of his hand in mine and the look of pure exhilaration and happiness on his face was enough.

That and the kissing.

God, the kissing.

My tips tingled at the ghostly remembrance of his lips against mine and the way his tongue had pressed against the seam of my mouth like he was claiming me for his own.

The dance floor was beginning to clear, the band setting their instruments down for the first of their breaks. Most of the other guests had decided to hit the bar or had grabbed a seat on the nearest benches.

“What do you want to do?” Connor asked, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His fingers were still entwined with mine.

What did I want? That was the million-pound question.

If I were honest with myself—really, truly honest—I wanted Connor. I wanted to take him upstairs and peel off his shirt and beautifully tight trousers. I wanted to kiss him until there was no breath left in my body. I wanted all the things I’d never shared with another person before. Because if I was going to do them with anyone, I wanted to do them with Connor.

My one fear was that he wouldn’t want them with me.

Connor might have kissed me, fallen asleep on me, and pushed up against me in bed, but that didn’t necessarily mean he wanted anything more with me. I was sure he preferred his partners with a bit more experience than I had. After all, who really wanted to guide a nearly-thirty-year-old gay virgin through his first blowjob? Or at least his first blowjob on a real dick, not just the dildo he’d finally bought last year. I was never going to be worthy of him, not really. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t try. Just because I knew I’d fall short didn’t mean I couldn’t reach for the stars.

“I… I…” My tongue was tied, and I realised I still stood on the dancefloor, probably looking like a first-class idiot. “Shall we go back to the house?”

“The house is good,” Connor said, leading me off the floor. He grabbed his jacket off the bench as we passed, carrying it on one arm. The sun was lower in the sky as we emerged this time, a soft breeze ruffling my hair. I had no idea what time it was, but my guess was about half seven. There were a few people milling around with drinks and some kids playing in the field—turning cartwheels, doing handstands, and playing with the giant Jenga set we’d set up.

Nobody paid Connor and I any attention as we walked across the yard, and I let him lead me where he wanted to go.

“You never answered my question.” Connor’s voice was soft and playful. We reached the house, and Connor paused, waiting to see what I’d do next.

“I, um, I don’t really know what my options are.”

“Do you want options?”

“They’re usually a good idea.” I opened the kitchen door, then let go of his hand to open the fridge, checking to see if the caterers had come to get the extra cake. It was a good pretence to give me a moment to breathe and get my thoughts in order.

“Is there still cake?” Connor asked hopefully, his presence looming behind me. I chuckled.

“Yes, there’s still a whole one.”

“Oh, good. I can have some later!”

“You’re not going to eat a whole cake.”

“I can try.” His hands found my waist, and he gently turned me to face him. “You’re hiding from me.”

“No…” Connor raised an eyebrow, and I felt my face flush. “Maybe. Just a little.”

“Do you want to go back to the party?” he asked. “We can get a drink, maybe some cake, and dance.”

I swallowed. “No… not yet… I mean, I… If you want…” I trailed off, not really sure what to say. Apparently, my brain had uninstalled the dictionary because I’d forgotten any words beyond no, er, and um. I must have sounded like an idiot.

“Or we can stay here? Maybe go upstairs?” Connor’s voice was soft with no hint of pressure in it. He was leaving the decision up to me, which was absolutely lovely of him, except I didn’t know what to say or do, and I had no idea what he wanted. How could I make a choice without knowing what his opinion was? I didn’t want to make the wrong one, and I didn’t want to force Connor into something he didn’t want. Not that I could make Connor do anything. That was what I loved about him. He knew exactly who he was and what he wanted. His confidence and self-assuredness floored me. If I could have even five percent of his confidence, I’d be lucky.

“What, um, what do you want?” I was almost proud of myself for getting out a full sentence.

---