Cherry Pie (13 page)

“What was your lie, Connor?” he asked quietly.

Connor shook his head. “No, no lie. I came back, didn’t I?” He lowered his arms and looked at John then. “And it’s better than I told myself it would be.”

Later that night John followed Connor into the shower. He took the soap from Connor’s hand.

“Let me.”

Slowly he washed Connor. When he was covered in the slick bubbles, John turned him and reached around his hip to grasp his cock. John’s soapy caresses had aroused him. He felt like an idiot because of the way he’d treated Connor last night. He knew Connor liked it like this, slow and easy. Personal. Connor liked it very personal.

“What are you doing?” Connor asked in that deep, quiet voice of his.

“Making you happy.” John’s hand slid smoothly up and down Connor’s cock, and he felt a little shiver race over Connor’s back pressed against his chest.

“You don’t have to do this to make me happy.”

Connor’s words stopped John, but just for a moment. “Okay. Then it makes me happy.”

“All right, then,” Connor answered with a smile in his voice. He dragged John’s other hand up and pressed it over one nipple, rubbing his palm there. He made a satisfied rumbling sound that reverberated in his chest. It was John’s turn to shiver. He got off on Connor’s pleasure.

“This is different,” he said.

“Different how?” Connor asked. His voice was low and a little breathless as he braced his forearm on the wall. John rubbed the soap over his chest and stomach and jacked him slowly.

“Different than what I’m used to.” He didn’t go into detail. Connor didn’t need to know that with Steve he’d never been in charge. Steve directed everything they did, every touch, every kiss—everything. John enjoyed doing what he liked to Connor. Making Connor squirm just because he could and because he wanted to.

Connor chuckled. “Not my usual gig either.”

John laughed softly and gave Connor a little squeeze that made him groan. “Good. I want it to be special between us.”

Connor took the hand that lay against his chest and lifted it to his mouth, kissing John’s palm. “Johnny,” he whispered.

“That’s right,” John said, stepping closer, until he was plastered against Connor’s back and ass. He rubbed his cheek in the hollow between Connor’s shoulder blades. “Don’t forget it. Don’t forget who I am.”

Connor shook his head. “No. You either.”

John held Connor tightly, feeling how close he was to climax. “No. No, I won’t forget.”

Connor came gently, pressing into John’s fist with a moan. As he was coming he wrapped a hand around John’s on his cock, keeping him there. John had nowhere else he wanted to be.

Chapter Seventeen

“Come on.”

Conn felt a hand on his shoulder shaking him awake. He jerked and jackknifed into a sitting position. It took a second for him to remember where he was. Jesus, his heart was racing. He placed a hand over it and tried to calm down.

John stood back a couple of steps from the bed, concern on his face. “I’m sorry, Connor. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

He just shook his head. He was being an asshole. “No. It’s not your fault.” He glanced over and was surprised to see sunlight trying to stream in through the tiny cracks in the miniblinds. “What time is it?” He rubbed his face roughly with both hands.

“It’s almost ten.”

Conn looked at John then. He frowned. “That can’t be right. I never sleep that late.”

John grinned. “I guess I tired you out the last couple of days.” He came over and sat on the side of the bed next to Conn and ran a hand from his shoulder down his arm. “This place relaxes you. I can tell. Maybe that’s why you slept so well.” He grabbed Conn’s hand and pulled. “Come on, sleepyhead. I’ve got something to show you.”

Conn was still logy from sleeping so late, and he let John pull him out of bed. He finally noticed that John was completely dressed. “When did you get up?”

“I’ve been up for hours,” John said, grabbing Conn’s shorts and throwing them at him. Conn caught them against his chest. His T-shirt came flying over next. “Get dressed.”

Conn started to bend over to put his shorts on.

“Wait,” John said. Conn stood up and faced John with a questioning look. John gave him a sexy little grin. “I just wanted to enjoy the view.” He walked over and slid his hand down Conn’s chest and stomach and around his back to squeeze his ass. Conn’s dick got very interested in waking up. “You’ve put on weight the last couple of weeks. I like it,” John said. He leaned over and kissed Conn’s neck and patted his ass, then stepped back. “Hurry up. I’ve got something to show you.”

Conn laughed. “You already said that.” He pulled his shorts on and grabbed his T-shirt from the bed. “It better be good for all the fuss.”

John rubbed his hands together. “Oh, it’s good.”

They pulled up in front of another beach house, this one bright yellow. John had a huge grin on his face as he watched Conn’s reaction. Conn didn’t really have one. They were going to switch houses? How long did John plan to stay? Conn was anxious to get back to Mercury. All the new plants were going to die if no one watered them.

There was another car parked in front of them, and a woman stepped out on the porch above and waved at them.

“Who’s that?” Conn asked.

John was opening his door and didn’t look at Conn. “The Realtor.”

Conn frowned. He glanced over and saw a SOLD sticker on the FOR SALE sign in front of the house. He got a sinking feeling in his gut. “Johnny, what have you done?” he asked quietly, knowing John wouldn’t hear him. He was already halfway up the stairs, his hand stuck out to shake the Realtor’s.

Conn got out slowly, turning to shut the car door so he could compose his face before John saw his uneasiness. He took a deep breath.

“Connor!” John shouted from the steps. Like the entry doors of most beach houses, the entrance to this one was up a flight of stairs, because the house acted like a carport, standing on tall stilts with the driveway beneath it.

Conn walked slowly up the steps to where John and the Realtor both stood beaming at him.

“So is this the special guy?” the Realtor asked with a waggle of her brows and an annoying giggle. “Pretty special, I’d say.”

John rolled his eyes so only Conn could see. “Connor, this is Mary Ann Shipley. Mary Ann, Connor Meecham.”

She held out her hand, and Conn tried to smile, but he could tell by her reaction it came out more of a grimace.

There was an awkward silence. But like all good salespeople Mary Ann filled it. “Well, come on. Let’s have a look, shall we?” She led them inside. Looking over her shoulder, she asked, “Which would you like to see first? The second-floor bedrooms? Or this floor? There’s actually a small second kitchen on the third floor.” She sounded as if a second kitchen was the most amazing scientific breakthrough since penicillin.

“Could you excuse us for a moment?” Conn asked politely, standing just inside the front door. “John?”

John was looking between Conn and Realtor Mary Ann anxiously. “Um, sure.”

Mary Ann’s lips thinned so much her orange lipstick disappeared. “I’ll be right out on the back balcony. It came furnished with some very handsome deck furniture.”

Conn bit his lip before he could tell her he didn’t give a shit about deck furniture. “Thanks.”

While he waited for her to walk out, Conn looked around. The house was a lot like the one they were renting, except the furniture was nicer. It looked like leather. White leather. Who bought white leather furniture?

When the door out to the deck closed, John turned to him with a blank face. “You don’t like it.”

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on. Do I have to pay for a clue? Spin the wheel? What?” Conn hadn’t meant to sound pissed off, but he did not like situations where he was the only one without a game plan. Not knowing what was going on had led to some serious shit in his past. That was not going to happen again. Not for John, not for anybody.

John walked over to a window to look out at the ocean. Unfortunately he ended up staring at Mary Ann Shipley. He turned back to Conn. “I bought it. For you.”

Conn could only blink at him for a minute. It took him that long to comprehend what John had just said. “You just woke up this morning and decided to buy me a beach house?” John nodded. “God damn it,” Conn muttered, ramming his hand into his hair and yanking it painfully when he got caught in a tangle. He hadn’t even had time to comb his hair. “How much?”

John glared defiantly. “Doesn’t matter. I’ve got it.”

“Okay,” Conn said slowly and took a deep breath. “Why?”

John laughed, but he didn’t sound amused. “To make you happy. How’s that working?”

“I don’t need a beach house to make me happy.” Conn felt that sinking sensation in his stomach again.

“Don’t you want a beach house?” John sounded bemused.

“That’s an unfair question,” Conn replied. “You know I’d be lying if I said no. You know I love this beach and that it holds some really important memories for me. But John, I didn’t want you to buy me a beach house. I didn’t bring you here so you would.”

He walked over and sat down on one of the white leather couches. It was puffy and pretty damn comfortable. John trailed after him and sat down too. “I know that, Connor. I know you didn’t expect it. That’s part of the fun of giving it to you.” He reached out and wrapped his hand around Conn’s wrist. “But I know Mercury is hard for you. And the sheriff…” John sighed without finishing his sentence. So he’d heard about Conn’s run-ins with Wilkins around town. “It’s just that I thought I’d give you a place to go,” John continued. “So you wouldn’t have to deal with all that.”

“You’re not going back to Mercury?” Conn could barely get the question out.

John looked at him like he was crazy. “Of course I’m going back to Mercury. The house isn’t done. And I’ve got something in the works—” He shook his head. “Never mind. But you don’t have to come back with me if you don’t want to. You can stay here. And I’ll come visit you, maybe every weekend or something. Would you like that?”

“And do what?” Conn asked flatly. He was controlling his anger, just barely.

John shrugged. “I don’t know. Whatever you want. Nothing if you like.”

“So you’ll just give me the house, and I can stay here and play beach bum and entertain you on weekends when you get the urge?”

“You can stay here and get your head on straight and figure out what you want to do without the pressure Mercury puts on you.” John pulled his hand back. “Or so I thought. But clearly I was wrong.” He stood up. “Do you want to see it or not? I own it now. Might as well get a look at it.”

Conn gaped at him. “You bought it without looking at it?” John nodded tensely. “Why?”

“Because it was the closest house to Fort Fisher that was for sale.”

Conn fell back against the back of the couch and looked at his hands in his lap. John had good intentions at least. But he really didn’t know Conn at all if he thought this was what he wanted. Conn had a headache, and he felt queasy. The kind of sick he used to get when his tricks paid up. He rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. “Can we see it another time?” he asked quietly. “I haven’t showered or eaten or had any coffee.”

Without a word to Conn, John walked over to the back door and opened it. “Mary Ann, we’ll have to see it another time. Connor isn’t feeling well.”

Mary Ann looked stunned for a minute and then shook herself. “Of course! You can see it anytime you like. Once the papers are signed in a few days, you get the key after all.”

“Great,” John said with a false smile. He turned and walked out the front door, and Conn silently followed.

Three hours later they were back in Mercury without seeing his new house. John was so pissed off he hadn’t spoken more than ten words to Connor since they left the beach.

He stomped inside and threw his bag across the kitchen floor. Connor pushed in behind him and shut the door. John turned on him, ready to have it out. “What the hell is wrong with you?” he asked sharply. Connor put the car keys carefully on the peg by the door. The care he took with such a simple task pissed John off even more. He’d handle his car keys like fucking china and shit on the house he’d bought him?

“Nothing’s wrong with me.” He didn’t look at John. His voice was flat, revealing nothing. He walked right past John without stopping.

With incredulity John realized he was just going to leave him there fuming. “Where are you going?” he demanded.

Connor turned to him, and John could see the little lines at the corners of his eyes and his thin lips. Oh, Connor was mad, all right. He just wasn’t going to show it. “I’m going to paint. I said I’d paint that room, and I haven’t done it yet. So I’m going to do it.”

That sounded like a good idea. Painting was a task that would settle Connor down, and John needed some time apart to let his own anger cool. He waved him off. “Fine. Go paint.”

Connor turned away. “I wasn’t asking permission,” he said calmly as he started up the stairs.

John gritted his teeth. Again, Connor with the last word.

Chapter Eighteen

John was sipping his coffee in the kitchen, trying to decide whether or not to go up and see if Connor was awake when the doorbell rang. He looked at the clock. It was nearly ten in the morning. With a frown he wondered how late Connor stayed up painting last night. He’d still been at it when John had gone to bed at midnight.

“I’ll get it!” he called up the stairs. If the doorbell hadn’t woken him up, then John would. They needed to talk.

He opened the door to see Toby standing there looking apologetic and nervous, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“Come on in,” he said, holding the door open. He didn’t sound all that welcoming, but Toby stepped inside anyway.

“Hey, John,” he said. He jingled the change in his pocket. “Conn asked me to come by and see if you needed any help with that porch today.”

John frowned. “I’m not ready to do anything with the porch. What did Connor want to do?”

Toby shrugged. “Don’t know. He said he just didn’t want you trying to do it all by yourself.”