Page 72 of Backward Motion

“I kind of came out to him.”

Sam laughed despite himself. “So you’re just telling everyone you meet now?”

“The seal is well and truly broken.”

Sam trailed a finger down Connor’s spine. “And what did he say?”

“That’s the thing—nothing, really. It was more what he didn’t say. He just seemed sad... and scared.”

“Maybe he finally realized what a dick he was at school.”

Connor turned to look at Sam, his expression perplexed. “Maybe. But it got me thinking, as someone who had to work through a lot of ugly feelings about liking guys, what if instead of taking it out on himself—like I did—he took it out on you?”

Sam’s breath stalled, and his hands dropped to his lap.

Connor’s forehead furrowed. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have brought him up. I’m probably completely off the mark here. And even if I’m not, that’s no excuse for how he treated you.” He took Sam’s hand and rubbed his thumb along Sam’s palm, massaging the oil into his skin.

“No, but if it is true...” Sam said haltingly. “I mean, I still hate his guts, but now I feel kind of sorry for him.”

“I know.” Connor sighed and leaned in to kiss Sam on the temple. Then his hand strayed to the hem of Sam’s T-shirt, and he tugged it upward, exposing Sam’s stomach. “Let me do you.”

“That wasn’t part of the plan,” Sam protested. “You’ve been working so hard...”

“It’s a much better plan,” Connor said with a wolfish grin. “Besides, the lavender’s making me sleepy, and I don’t want a repeat of last night.”

Sam snickered. “You’re lucky I didn’t take it personally.”

“I’m still kicking myself.”

Connor rendered Sam naked in record time and eased him onto his back on the towel Sam had laid out across the couch. He took the bottle of oil from the coffee table and squirted a generous amount into his palm. “Sorry for the sandpaper mitts. Guess it’s less of a massage and more an exfoliation.”

“Are you kidding? I love your hands,” Sam said, and he did. They were strong and capable. Connor made a living with his hands.

Connor lowered his palm until it hovered barely an inch above Sam’s navel, an almost imperceptible gesture but enough to give Sam a chance to voice his assent.

Sam prickled with anticipation. “You can touch me anywhere as much as you like.”

Connor started slow and gentle, making circles across Sam’s chest and stomach, then he slid a slippery hand lower and began to caress the sensitive skin between his thighs and behind his knees.

Sam watched as his cock rose like a charmed snake. “Now I feel bad I only did your back,” he huffed as his chest hollowed out and he was filled with a rapidly growing desire.

“Don’t,” Connor murmured, his eyes lowered as though drinking in Sam’s shimmering body.

Sam quivered as Connor used a finger to stroke his taint then curve down to circle his hole and rise again to ever so lightly fondle his balls. He wanted Connor to capture his cock, but the man seemed content to stroke and caress everywhere but.

“Is this a test?” Sam panted.

“Do you want it to be?”

“Touch my dick.” Sam almost whimpered. “Pretty please.”

Connor stopped his infuriating teasing and, blessedly, took Sam’s shaft into his warm, slick grasp.

“Oh, fuck yes...”

Connor kept his strokes firm and even, one hand on Sam’s cock, the other cupping his balls. He’d bring Sam close only to change the pace and keep him guessing. Soon, Sam was writhing, almost hyperventilating as Connor brought him to the brink.

“I’m gonna come—”