by Lee Brazil
Chapter Seven
His heartbeat was a bit fast, his fingers a little more shaky than usual. Cannon turned off the engine and stared at the A-frame nestled far back in the trees. The cheerful red door beckoned him, reminding him of Finn when he'd first seen him in the university parking lot, all black wool and red knit.
"You can do this," he muttered to himself, releasing the catch on his seatbelt. A week had passed, a week of fortunately mild weather, during which Cannon had stopped avoiding Finn Lorensson and started actually looking for him. He hoped that he could mend fences with his neighbor with a heartfelt apology and some genuine gratitude. He also thought it would be easier if he just bumped into Finn somewhere public to get those words out that needed to be said without further embarrassing himself…by jumping the man and ravaging him or something. His dreams and daydreams had been haunted by images of the denim-clad Finn tending his injury, cleaning up his vomit. The tenderness of his touches and the gentleness of his concern etched on his face…those things were true memories, not confusion from the mild concussion he'd suffered. Those things made him feel like an even bigger jerk for running out on Finn, twice, than he'd felt before. They also turned him on. He just couldn’t trust himself to be alone with Professor Lorensson dressed casually. It was hard enough to resist the sexy professor in a wool suit in public.
But it was time. He'd gone to the lodge office twice to consult with Scott McGregor about options for improving the security at his cabin. Turned out the best option was relocating to an entirely new cabin. The new one was significantly larger and had the added advantage, or disadvantage, of being closest to Finn Lorensson's place. Both times he'd seen the contractor's truck at the lodge and exchanged friendly banter with the man. Siggy had never mentioned his brother though, and Cannon was too ashamed of his behavior to bring Finn into it. He couldn’t quite see explaining to the good-humored craftsman that he'd had a one-night stand with his brother and then walked out on him. He didn't even like thinking about the way he'd felt that night.
Giving up on bumping into Finn at the lodge office, he'd checked the staff parking lot upon arrival and departure at campus every day with no luck. He'd even cruised the Zane Grey bar at the Weatherford on Saturday night. Finn wasn't there either.
Cannon had consulted Rory and Chance, and despite their thinly veiled laughter, confessed his sins. Rory told him exactly what he'd expected: "Be persistent." Chance told him to quit trying to engineer a casual meeting and knock on the guy's door.
So here he was, on Sunday morning, with an offering of peace, hoping to apologize for his behavior and thank Finn for being his savior. Cannon glanced at the passenger side seat of his new SUV. If gas station roses could be considered appropriate for anything, it was a sordid apology for acting like an asshat.
He'd wanted a brilliant bouquet of flowers, the sort of FTD non-descript stuff that you could order online or at any florist, but he'd waited too late. The flower shop was closed, the grocery store boasted only a few wilted blooms in cellophane wrapping with yellow ducks on them.
Showing up empty-handed seemed wrong, but he wasn't sure the fiery red and orange blooms that he'd picked up while paying for his gas were appropriate either. What kind of message did roses convey? Probably not gratitude. Still, carrying the roses would keep his hands occupied, and if they were occupied carrying flowers, they wouldn't clench on Finn's shoulders and drag him into Cannon's body, wouldn't hold him captive for a kiss or touch him in places that were entirely inappropriate for an apology.
"You can do this," he repeated more firmly. Snatching up the roses in one hand, he stepped out of the car. The sun disappeared behind a cloud, and he looked up warily to gauge the cause. He wasn't prepared for another epic snowfall.
Sure enough, fuzzy gray clouds obscured the sun, and an icy wind picked up. Ruefully, Cannon looked down at his wool suit and highly polished dress shoes. So much for looking sophisticated and attractive. The first flakes of snow fell as he walked up the path, stinging his eyes and making his lashes heavy.
Cannon sighed and knocked on the door, resigned to getting sopping wet while he talked. The puffy down coat he'd eschewed for the occasion at least had the advantage of being waterproof. So much for vanity.
"Cannon, I wondered if you would approach or just…" The door opened to reveal a denim- and sweater-clad Finn, unsmiling. His broad shoulders blocked the way in, and Cannon was left to wonder if he'd come at an awkward moment.
"I…" His gaze met Finn's blue eyes, cool and reserved, and he flinched. He'd earned that distance, he supposed. "I looked for you this week."
An ironic, pale brow flicked upward. "I'm not hard to find if you want me. My car in the drive announces my comings and goings quite well."
"I didn't come here. I looked…down at the lodge and on campus." In the face of Finn's narrowing eyes, he had no choice but to duck his head and accept his cowardice. "I…wanted to talk to you in public."
A warm hand closed on his, prying the flowers gently from his grasp and tugging him over the threshold. "Going out isn't a good idea in this weather. And thank you. No one has ever brought me flowers before."
"They haven't?" Cannon blindly followed Finn into a warm, vibrant home. Newly wise to the ways of the weather, he kicked off his Ferragamo loafers and nudged them over to dry on a floor mat under a series of pegs. He was pleased to see that among the garments hanging there was a puffy down coat nearly identical to the one he'd worn at their first meeting. "So you do get cold," he blurted as he peeled off his own wool blend trench coat.
Finn laughed and took the navy blue garment from his hand, draping it over a spare peg. "You thought I didn't? But for the grace of Under Armour, I'd be bundled in so many layers you'd have to peel me like an onion to see the color of my shorts."
"That's…" The words stumbled to a halt as Cannon was sidetracked by visual images of a wickedly smiling Finn stripping off layer after layer of clothing in an erotic tease just for him. "I…Someone must have brought you flowers before."
"Not really." Finn directed him to a long, plush sofa in front of a roaring fire. "I'm more, well…Let's say the boot is generally on the other foot for me."
Blinking uneasily, Cannon settled on the sofa and watched the fire. "I need to apologize and to say thank you." The sofa cushions dipped as Finn sat next to him, not too close, but close enough that when he leaned forward to speak, Cannon caught a whiff of familiar cologne, close enough that he fancied he could feel the heat of Finn's body as well as that of the blaze in the hearth.
"Apology accepted, thanks as well. Neither is necessary. When you know me better, you'll realize that."
"Realize?" Good god he didn't think he could live next to this man. "I think"—he swallowed hard—"since we're going to be neighbors, that the best thing we can do is to agree to forget about that night and…try to be friends."
A trick of the flickering firelight made Finn's classically handsome face appear flushed and dark. "I was remiss, the other night, in indulging you."
His pulse throbbed with portent. Cannon shook his head, suddenly fuzzy with arousal. Everything seemed to come to a grinding halt, and his gaze locked on Finn's full lips. "What?" he murmured, unable to make sense of the man's words when the same need that had overwhelmed him in the university parking lot reclaimed his senses.
"You were so needful, so hungry for touch, and I made the mistake of indulging that need. I let what you wanted distract me from what I knew you needed." Finn slid a little closer on the couch, and Cannon nearly swallowed his own tongue, his mouth went so dry.
"I'm not sure I know what you're talking about." The words sounded strange, like they were whispered through sand. He coughed to cover his uncertainty.
"I'm sure you do not." His lips brushed dryly over Cannon's, once, then twice, before he retreated to the far corner of the sofa. "You wish to start over. Very well then, so do I."
A long, lean hand tipped with cleanly manicured nails, buffed to a shine w
as extended. "Hello. My name is Dagfinnr Lorensson. I hear that we will be neighbors, and this pleases me."
Cannon accepted the hand reluctantly. As expected, an almost electric heat spread from the touch through his body. Finn felt it too, he could tell by the faint hiss of his breath. Cannon dropped the hand as soon as he could and sat upright. He wouldn't cringe, no matter how much he wanted to. "Don't be silly. You know my name, I know yours. I just…meant we should forget about anything else."
"I don't want to forget it. Things may not have gone the way I wanted them to, but I very much enjoyed our time together."
Gulping, Cannon scooted back until the arm of the couch prevented him from going farther. "Nevertheless, I think it's for the best. I didn't come here to get involved with someone, just to find myself."
"Are you lost, my dear?"
"No!" He bolted off the sofa and stood, rocking on his heels. "I…I'm not used to being out and open. I just got divorced, came out, got dumped by my lover, and tumbled into a relationship that wasn't quite what I wanted. I just need time to find out what I do want." His pounding heart and watering mouth knew what they wanted…but he couldn't let go of the idea that he wanted something like what Jeremiah and Z and Archer had. Not quite, he wasn't interested in having a master. He'd learned well enough from the way Master Peter had overwhelmed him that he didn't want discipline and punishment. He just wanted …what?
"Ah. I can give you time, Cannon. I don't normally rush into things." Finn leaned forward, and outside the orange firelight, Cannon could see sympathy and understanding in his eyes. "Why don't we do that? Spend some time together, become friends, get to know each other?"
"I…You're okay with no sex?" He wasn't sure if he wanted the answer to that to be affirmative.
"Of course, Cannon. You don't know me well either, but that will change. As we spend more time together. Sex? It's not all about sex, Cannon. It is never all about sex."
"You…" He was scrambling now, trying to hide the shaking of his hands, not the fine tremble that never disappeared, but an outright shake that spoke of total lack of control. He wanted to both run away and to throw himself at Finn, to dive into the layers of winter gear that he'd worn at their first meeting and strip down to his bare skin and beg for something he couldn't put a name to. "Please…" he whispered, unable to look away from those bright, compelling blue eyes.
Finn's breath caught, his chest expanded and his nostrils flared. "I like to hear a man's voice crack when he says please. I like to hear the soft desperation in the way he breathes. I like to see his skin flush and his chest heave.
“I like to know he wants what only I can give."
Panic set in, but something strange inside reached out to that confidence, just as it had to Master Peter. Did he dare give this man a chance? Before he knew what he wanted himself? What if Dagfinnr Lorensson had the answers to the questions that clamored continually inside Cannon?
"I can answer your needs, Cannon. I promise you."
His gaze darted to the door and back. "I don't know what I want."
Finn shook his head, smiling softly. "It doesn't matter what you want. I see what you need, and I can give it to you."
"I… Can't we be friends? Neighbors?"
"We will be. Friends, neighbors…and eventually, when you're ready, lovers."
TO BE CONTINUED
About Pulp Friction 2014
Laura Harner ~ Lee Brazil ~ Havan Fellows ~ T.A. Webb
The Pulp Friction 2014 Collection. Four authors. Four Series. Twenty books. One fiery finale. Spend a year with an eclectic group of strangers brought together through circumstances, as they are tested by life, and emerge as more than friends.
The strongest bonds are forged by fire, cooled in air, smoothed by water, grounded in earth.
Although each series can stand alone, we believe reading the books in the order they are released will increase your enjoyment.
Round One:
Firestorm (Fighting Fire: 1)
Cold Snap (In From the Cold: 1)
Blown Away (Whispering Winds: 1)
Higher Ground (Earthquake: 1)
Round Two:
Controlled Burn
Cold Comfort
Blown Kisses
Moving Earth
Round Three:
Backburn
Cold Feet
Blow Hard
Tremors
Round Four
Flare-up
Out In The Cold
Blown Chance
Aftershocks
Round Five:
Radiant Burn
Cold Day in Hell
Final Blow
Terra Firma