“Kristine Hamilton, Connor Meecham. Connor, this is Steve’s sister, Kristine.”
“How do you do,” Connor replied politely with a nod at Kristine. John almost smiled at his formality. He sounded and looked so Southern right then. It was a huge turn-on. And wow, what an inappropriate time to get a hard-on.
Kristine didn’t respond to Connor. Instead she turned to John. “Can we talk? Somewhere private?” She stressed the last word, as if Connor had invaded their privacy and not the other way around.
John nodded. “Of course.” He started to lead her out to the living room, but Connor stopped him.
“No, it’s fine. I’ve got to run over to the store and get a few things.” He nodded at Kristine. “Pleased to meet you.” He walked over to the wall peg by the door and snagged the keys to the old truck John had bought to haul all the construction stuff. He turned at the door and held them up. “Okay?” It was clear he was asking to use the truck.
“I’ve told you that you don’t have to ask, Connor,” John said impatiently. “Take the car instead, with my blessing. And pick up some coffee creamer. I’m almost out.”
“I’m all right with the truck.” Connor looked at Kristine. “I’ll pick up something for dinner too. For three?”
John looked at Kristine, and she nodded stiffly.
“Fish okay? Or some steak?” Connor asked.
John could see Kristine’s cheeks flush with anger at Connor’s questions. It didn’t take a genius to figure out why. It was that damn domesticity again.
“Fish is good. Thanks, Connor.” John watched him as he waved and walked out the back door. Part of him wanted to call Connor back for a kiss, but he ruthlessly stifled the urge. Not just because Kristine was there, but because that wasn’t what this relationship was about. It wasn’t kisses good-bye—or hello for that matter. And John needed to remember that.
“Were you trying to get him to take Steve’s car?” Kristine asked in a harsh voice.
With a deep breath John turned to her. He indicated a chair at the table and went to sit down. “Yes.”
“Was that Steve’s guitar he was playing?” She marched over and sat facing him across the table.
“Yes.”
“What are you doing?” Kristine demanded. “He’s only been gone a year! And you’re fucking some boy toy and letting him use Steve’s things.” She shook her head and leaned back in the chair, crossing her arms. “I don’t care who you fuck. But don’t give Steve’s stuff away.”
“It’s not Steve’s stuff anymore,” John answered patiently. “It’s mine.” At his words his heart slammed in his chest. It was the first time he’d admitted that. The first time he’d been able to.
“And they don’t mean anything to you? Is that what you’re saying? You can give them to some grifter with no problem?”
John gritted his back teeth. “What makes you think Connor is a grifter?”
“I haven’t heard you mention his name before.” Kristine waved her arms around agitatedly as she talked. “He obviously appeared out of the blue. And he’s obviously living here. And his clothes were cheap and faded. Maybe I’m wrong, but if it looks like a con artist and it sounds like a con artist, it’s a con artist.”
John crossed his arms. “And what is he conning out of me?”
Kristine looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “Are you kidding me? Multimillionaire, remember? Have you told him that? Or did he already know?”
“He knows.” He held up a hand before Kristine could respond. “And he doesn’t care. He used to live here, in this house. He showed up one day just to see the house and ended up staying to help me fix it up. That’s all.”
“You’re not fucking him?” she asked accusatorially.
John scoffed. “You’ve seen him, right? Do I look like Gandhi?”
“Ha-ha,” Kristine said without humor. “Don’t fool yourself that this is true love, John,” she warned. “You’re in a bad place right now.” She looked around and shuddered. “And I mean both physically and emotionally. Don’t jump at the first piece of ass that comes your way out here.”
“You don’t understand, Kristine,” he said, frustrated. “You don’t know him, or this place, or what he means here.”
“What he means here? What does that mean?” She made a face. “No, don’t tell me. He’s the Gandhi of Mercury, North Carolina, right?” She laughed at her own joke.
“Enough with the Gandhi,” John said, wishing he’d never brought it up. “But he belongs to this town. And he’s made it…” He sighed. “Oh, never mind.”
“So what does he do? He lives here?” She sounded more curious than angry now.
“Yes. He grew up here.”
“And?” She waved her hand to indicate she wanted more information.
“And…he’s helping me fix up the place.”
“You already said that. What does he do?”
“I just told you.” John was avoiding the question, and he knew it. And from the look on Kristine’s face, she knew it too.
“Okay, before he started helping you fix up this place, what did he do?” She wasn’t a lawyer for nothing, much to John’s regret. She knew how to conduct an interrogation.
“He lived in Atlanta.” It was more information, just not what she wanted.
She sighed. “You know I can just do my research and find out all about him?”
“He did odd jobs. I never really asked what.” John looked away for a moment and chewed the inside of his lip. “And he was in jail.”
“Jesus Christ, John,” Kristine burst out in disgust. “Did you leave your brains in LA?”
“You don’t know him, Kristine. Please, just reserve judgment until you get to know him a little. Please,” John begged. “Stay here. We’ll make room. You can stay in Connor’s room.”
“And Connor will conveniently stay in your room?” she asked. “Why do you have separate rooms?”
“We’ve only just gotten involved. When he first arrived, we became friends, and that was all. Truthfully, that’s all we are now, just with benefits. We’re both lonely, and we like each other. I’m not fooling myself. Not like I did with Steve. I know it’s not true love.”
“Steve loved you.” She defended her brother. “In his way, he loved you more than anyone else in his life.”
John slumped in his seat. They’d been over this. “You know all about the others, Kristine. If you’ll remember, they came out of the woodwork when he died.”
She sighed. “He didn’t love them. He came back to you, always. Whatever arrangement you and Steve had was your business. You were the only one he told me about. The only one who was family.”
“Our arrangement was we were supposed to be in love and cleave unto each other only. I cleaved; he humped.”
“You came down here because you loved him. You went crazy when he died.” She was talking to him as if he were a child having a tantrum. He hated that.
“I’ve come to realize recently that I went crazy for a lot of reasons. Missing Steve and my grief over his death was only part of it. And I chose this place because it was a reminder of both the love I thought we shared and the betrayal I felt when I found out about his cheating.”
“How so?” Kristine asked.
John just shook his head. “It doesn’t really concern you,” he told her, trying not to sound mean or angry. He wasn’t any of those things.
“Does it concern him?” She pointed out the door. “Connor?”
“It concerns me,” John said with finality, “and those personal revelations I’ll keep to myself for now.” He stood up. “Are you staying?”
She nodded. “Through dinner. But I don’t think I’ll stay with you. It makes us all too uncomfortable. I’ll stay at the hotel I passed a few miles back on my way here. It looks new.”
John nodded. “Okay. But if you change your mind, the offer still stands.”
Chapter Fifteen
John traced a line down the center of Connor’s
naked back, enjoying Connor’s shiver. They’d only just finished their second fuck of the night. John felt like a teenager. He couldn’t get enough of sex with Connor.
It was late, maybe two or three in the morning. John had taken his watch off and tossed it aside when he realized he’d worn it just for Connor. Only when it was too dark to find it had John realized Connor didn’t have a clock in his room. It was such a basic ingredient of any room. How could he live without a clock? John supposed he’d lived without a lot of things the last few years. He balled up his fist and pulled it away from the temptation of Connor’s warm, sweaty back.
Connor was lying on his stomach next to John, his head pillowed on his arms. He opened his eyes at John’s withdrawal. John sat up and rolled off the bed to collect his clothes, needing to be away from Connor for a while. He knew he didn’t have the willpower to leave him alone if he stayed. And he wasn’t going to be clingy or desperate. That wasn’t who he was anymore.
“Where are you going?” Connor asked. His voice held no anger or accusation. It was just a question. Relief flooded John. With Connor he could do what he wanted. It was that simple, and exactly how John wanted it.
“To my room. It’s too hot up here. I can’t sleep.”
Connor just watched him dress in the dark. He found his watch under his shirt. Two thirty a.m. He strapped it on and then realized how stupid that was. He was going to bed. He was getting dressed in a near panic, and he forced himself to settle down.
He’d been in a weird mood all day. Kristine’s visit and their confrontation had set him on edge. Then Connor had returned and disappeared again, only to show up and cook dinner, which he ate silently. It was as if he was avoiding any contact with Kristine. As if he had something to hide, which was what Kristine had hissed at John when he walked her out to her car. At least she hadn’t asked Connor about his jail time. John had worried about that all day.
Connor said he’d been at Miss Priss’s today, doing some odd jobs for her. John believed him. The thing was, Connor had places to go. He had people he could go see. Toby, Evan, and some guy he’d met last Sunday named Cornelius had called for Connor today. And when John told them he wasn’t home, they all wanted to talk to him instead. Just shootin’ the shit. What was that about? They were Connor’s friends. He wasn’t Connor’s boyfriend. His friends didn’t need to call John and check up on him.
“I need to get out of here.” John didn’t realize he’d spoken out loud until Connor answered him.
“No one’s stopping you.” Connor rolled onto his back and covered his eyes with his forearm. He didn’t seem too upset about John leaving in the middle of the night.
“Let’s go to the beach tomorrow,” John said, the idea just popping into his head. “I haven’t been to the beach since I moved here.”
Connor removed his arm to look at John. “All right.”
And that was it. As usual, Connor didn’t waste words. John smiled, back on solid ground. “What beach should we go to? I’ve only ever been to Myrtle Beach around here.”
“We can go there if you want.” Connor sounded a little reluctant.
“No,” John answered, and he could almost feel Connor relax. “Why don’t you want to go there?”
“I don’t want to run into anyone I knew in Atlanta. A lot of the guys I was with are high-rollers who hit Myrtle with the wife and kids for spring break.”
John hadn’t thought of that. He was surprised at his sudden anger. But it was the wrong kind of anger. It wasn’t aimed at Connor; it was aimed at those nameless, faceless bastards who made Connor embarrassed to go where he wanted and do what he pleased. It was a protective anger. And John didn’t want to feel that way. This was about sex. Maybe getting out of Mercury would get them back where John wanted them. “Where, then?”
“Kure Beach is nice. I like it there. Used to go when I was a kid.”
“Curry Beach? Where is it?”
“Just outside Wilmington. About an hour from here.”
John laughed. “I can’t believe I live so close and haven’t been to the beach.” He shook his head. “All right. Get some sleep. We’ll leave in the morning.”
“Shouldn’t you tell your friend Kristine?”
John had forgotten about Kristine. “I’ll call her on the way. Maybe she’ll learn not to show up unannounced.”
Connor didn’t respond, and John turned and went down to bed. He pretended he wasn’t lying there listening for sounds from Connor’s room, tossing and turning all night.
“Is this all right?” John asked as he dropped his bag just inside the door of the beach house. It was a bright lime green three-story house on the beach. He’d just Googled a Realtor at Kure Beach this morning and called and arranged for it sight unseen. That was actually harder than he’d thought, since he had no idea “Curry” was actually Kure. He shook his head with a smile. Southerners.
Connor came through the door slowly. “I thought we were just going to stay in a hotel.”
John looked over at him in surprise. “Why?” He shrugged as he walked over and threw the house and car keys on the kitchen counter. The house was very modern and bright, with ocean knickknacks everywhere. “I like to stay in houses whenever possible, not hotels. It’s more comfortable.”
Connor put his beat-up duffle on the floor next to John’s. “All right.”
John opened the blinds and was treated to a beautiful view of the ocean. It was a dark green color, and the beach beside it had quite a few people walking or lying around, enjoying the heat. “We picked a good time to come. This is perfect beach weather.”
Connor had walked over to stand beside him. “Yep. Unusual this time of year.”
The inanity of the conversation struck John. He’d brought Connor here to enjoy some serious sex and fun in the sun, and they were standing here chatting about the weather. He turned and looked up the stairs. “Let’s find the bedroom, fuck, and then go out to the beach.”
Connor stood there and continued to look out the window while John got his bag and hit the stairs. John stopped and looked down. “What are you waiting for? I thought we came here to have fun.”
“Is that why?” Connor asked lightly. He went and got his bag and started up the stairs without looking at John.
John mentally shrugged. “I want you to ride me,” John told him as he stopped and looked in the rooms on the second floor. Connor waited for him to choose a room, and then followed him when he continued up to the third floor. He wanted an ocean view. “I drove here. Now you get to be in the driver’s seat.” He turned and waggled his brows at Connor.
Connor gave him a small smile. “Whatever you want. It’s your dime.”
Conn stood in the shower, leaning his head against the wall, and let the hot water beat out the tightness in his back. At least the place had good water pressure. You couldn’t find that in a hotel.
Other positives of renting a house included not having to run into any of his old tricks while he was playing boy toy to a new one. He turned and scrubbed his face roughly under the water. He hated it here. He hated this house, and right now he hated John. But mostly he hated himself.
His ass was sore. John had fucked him hard yesterday afternoon and again last night. He’d been a machine. Wham bam, let’s hit the beach. Wham bam, how about dinner? Wham bam, I’ll sleep in the other room. Conn got what John had meant a few weeks ago when he’d said no to a blowjob. “Not if you don’t mean it,” he’d said. If his goal had been to teach Conn a lesson, well, he’d fucking hit the mark and more.
Conn started to punch the tile wall but stopped himself just in time. It was his own fault. He’d let John treat him that way. He’d been too afraid to say how he really felt or ask for what he really wanted because he didn’t want to push John away. John had said several times yesterday that the sex with Conn was the best he’d ever had. The way he said it… Conn knew it was his way of saying all he wanted was sex.
But that wasn’t what Conn wanted. And if he hop
ed to get what he did want, he’d have to assert himself and make it happen. John had said it himself. He’d said that when they were together, Conn couldn’t make it all about John.
He put his head under the water and turned his face up, enjoying the pounding wetness against the throbbing headache between his eyes.
“What are you doing?” John called out. Conn wiped his eyes to see John looking at him through the shower door. “You’ve been in there for ages.”
Conn grabbed the soap off the shelf. “I’m sore.”
John whipped open the shower door. “Did I hurt you? Jesus, Connor, you should have said something. Can I get you something? A painkiller?”
His concern was genuine and went a little way to soothing Conn’s bruises. “Yeah, thanks.”
John looked down at his feet, and Conn followed his gaze. John waggled his bare toes on the shower mat. “I guess I’m not used to being, you know, in charge,” he said, and he sounded so forlorn Conn almost laughed. “I just…” He looked directly at Conn. “I just wanted you so much. Sometimes it scares me. That I can’t get enough of you.”
Conn blinked at him. Wow. He hadn’t expected that confession. Just when he’d accepted that his feelings weren’t returned, John yanked him back to this side of hope. Before he could answer, John shut the shower door.
A minute later he was back, and he knocked on the door. Conn opened it to find John holding out a glass and a couple of pills.
“No one knocks on a shower door, John,” he said as he took the pills from him. He popped both in his mouth and chewed. He knew from experience it was the best way to get it into his system. He chased them with the whole glass of water and handed it back to John. “Thanks,” he said before he closed the door again.
He was in no hurry. He took his time washing up. When he stepped out of the shower and reached for his towel, John was still in the bathroom, leaning against the counter with his ankles and arms crossed.
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