Page 42 of Backward Motion

“Maybe... I don’t know.” Sam chewed on his lower lip. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been curious. “I think... yeah. I think I would.” His stomach chose that moment to let out a rumble of protest.

Connor burst out laughing. “I’m a terrible host!”

Sam laughed, covering his face with his hand. “No, trust me, you are a very generous host.”

Connor stroked Sam’s hair back from his forehead. “I lured you here under false pretenses and didn’t even feed you. Let me get on to that.”

Sam would have been content to remain curled up in bed all evening if hunger hadn’t asserted itself into the equation. Connorpulled himself up and leaned over the side of the bed to reach for his pants.

“You’re not actually going to get out and make me dinner?”

“Nope,” Connor said, flopping back against the pillows with his phone in hand. “I’m ordering takeout.”

Sam lay watching Connor tap away at his screen. He was still wrapped in a heady glow, his body tingling with the memory of Connor’s hands on him. He placed a palm on Connor’s bare stomach and guided it along his chest until the man captured it in his own.

“What are you thinking about?” Connor asked, tossing down his phone.

“Nothing,” Sam deflected, embarrassed to have been replaying the encounter in his head.

“Liar.” Connor smirked and moved in to kiss him.

His warm lips pushed open Sam’s mouth, filling it with his tongue. Sam snuggled against Connor, seeking the heat of his skin. He wasn’t sure how long they lay tangled in each other before there came a loud buzz from down the hall.

“That’s some fast pizza,” Connor remarked, lifting his head.

“I’ll get it.” Sam pulled himself from bed and threw on his jeans. He reached for his sweatshirt, realized it was Connor’s, and shrugged it on anyway as he stumbled into the hall. “Wait, do you have cash?” he called out.

“There should be some in the key bowl.”

Sam fished out a twenty from the bowl on the hallway table and walked to the door. When he swung it open, he came face-to-face with Brian, who was carrying a six-pack of beer at his side. If Brian was surprised to find Sam at Connor’s apartment, hair mussed and wearing his boss’s oversized sweater, he didn’t show it.

“Sorry for the late call. Connor helped me out babysitting, and I finally got round to saying thanks...” He held out the beer.

Sam took it awkwardly, not sure what else to do.

“Was there enough in there?” He heard Connor’s voice behind him, and then Connor appeared in the doorway, stiffening as he caught sight of Brian.

“What is it, tax season already? This guy better be paying you overtime—” Brian stopped midsentence as realization dawned on his face.

All the blood rushed to Sam’s cheeks.

“Uh, actually...” Connor halted and cleared his throat. “Sam and I are sort of seeing each other.”

All three of them stood in silence for a moment, independently digesting the news.

“That’s awesome, man,” Brian said with a smile. “Happy for you.”

“But it’s not...” Connor stammered. “We’re keeping it—”

“On the DL?” Brain offered. “Don’t worry, my lips are sealed.”

Connor’s shoulders relaxed.

“Well, great chat,” Brian continued, reaching over to slap Connor’s arm. “I’ll, um, see you both at trivia Thursday?”

Connor gave a wooden nod, and they watched Brian walk back to his car. When Connor closed the door, Sam noticed his hand tremble as he drew the latch.

“It’s Brian,” he mumbled with a confused frown. “I knew he’d be cool, so why am I...?”