ConvenientStrangers (6 page)
Read ConvenientStrangers Online
Authors: Cara McKenna
Stephen dropped his head to the side. “Cool if I sleep
here?”
“After all that? It’s cool if I wake up and find my TV
gone.”
Stephen laughed. “Brilliant. Thanks.”
“For the sex, or the TV?”
“Oh, you’ll find out.”
Another admonishing thump of their hands, then Adam said, “I
think I’m about to drop into a coma. Anything you need before I do? Need the
alarm set or anything?”
“Nope. I’m perfect.”
“Great.” With an exhausted sigh, Adam sat up to shift the
covers from beneath him, and Stephen did the same. The sheets felt smooth and
clean and crisp, different from the flannel ones Stephen had grown so
accustomed to. Like a hotel bed. And like a hotel, the visit wouldn’t last
long, but tourism was fun and not meant to be dampened with thoughts of what
might come after. Stephen nudged Adam onto his side, spooning him from behind,
and not caring if the gesture was clingy or bossy or wrong for a casual night of
mutual rebound fucking. Felt good, and what else mattered, really?
Just before he dropped off, Stephen wondered how many
messages and texts awaited him on his phone. He was shocked to realize he
didn’t care. The question brought no anxiety, no guilt, no smug satisfaction.
It was too much to hope that he’d just fucked his way through a breakup
hangover. That pain would return soon, dramatic or anticlimactic, sharp or
aching, ugly or civil, lingering or swift.
Who knew?
Who cared?
Who in heaven wanted to waste time worrying, when they could
drift into oblivion, here in this handsome man’s bed?
Chapter Seven
Adam woke early, summer sunshine slipping between his blinds
and warming his face, glowing pink through his lids. There was weight on his
ribs—Stephen’s arm. His eyes flew open, the entire night flooding back in half
a blink.
From the heavy, steady rhythm of Stephen’s chest rising and
falling against his back, Adam knew the man was sound asleep.
He was out of practice at panicking after a one-night stand.
Then again, the onus to panic fell usually to the person who was visiting, the
host only burdened if they were eager to see the guest leave. And Adam wasn’t.
It was a Sunday and he had no clients to meet, nothing at all planned for the
day aside from a run if it wasn’t too hot, or a trip to the gym, a stop at the
grocery store. And lying there with Stephen’s warm, bare body pressed to his
was way nicer than any errand. Nope, he wasn’t in any hurry to kick his
conquest out. He’d let Stephen make that call, and promised himself he wouldn’t
be disappointed if the man took off before coffee.
But after twenty or more minutes of lazing, the sun grew hot
on Adam’s face and nature called him from the bed. He slipped away without
waking Stephen and padded across the room, pleased by all the clothes
cluttering his floor.
He brushed his teeth and showered, wiped the steam from the
mirror and stared at himself. He looked different, somehow. He felt different.
Felt awake again, and interesting. Funny how restorative a bit of recreational
sex could be. Sad how he’d wasted three weeks being glum when he could have
been engaging in such a superior breed of recovery.
When he reentered the bedroom he found Stephen still there,
still asleep. As he slid a dresser drawer open with a squeak, Stephen’s eyes
opened. He blinked blearily.
“Morning,” Adam said.
“Morning.” He glanced around the room, but not the panicked
glance of a formerly drunken man trying to figure out where he was. “What time
is it?”
Adam looked to his alarm clock. “Just after nine. You late
for church?”
Stephen smiled, the gesture looking dozy. “They should be so
lucky, to have a sodomite like me among them. Keep the perverts behind the
confessional screen employed, single-handed.”
“Single-handed?” Adam teased, pulling briefs up his legs.
“Depending on the priest, sure. Make that as literal as you
fancy.” Stephen sat up, covers falling away to spoil Adam with a free show—the
sexiest man he’d ever had the good fortune of waking up with, naked to the
waist.
“What about you?” Stephen asked. “Am I keeping you from
anything?”
“Nope. Just the paper and coffee. And I’ve got all day to
get to those.” He tensed up then, wondering if he’d just missed some secret
morning-after signal. Was he supposed to have made something up, something with
a concrete start time, to give this man a diplomatic out?
But Stephen just tossed the covers aside and swung his legs
to the floor. “Mind if I use your shower?”
“Go for it. Help yourself to anything in there. I’ve got
spare toothbrushes in the top drawer.”
“Cheers.”
“You drink coffee?”
“Please.”
Nice.
This wasn’t as bad as he’d feared at all, having a relative
stranger in his house. There was a lot to be said for taking home guys whose
personalities you could stand, guys you could cut loose around without being
truly drunk—no hangovers, chemical or social, to suffer in the harsh light of
day. Actually the light of day struck Adam as rather cheerful this morning.
If it didn’t seem like too much, he’d ask Stephen if he
wanted to stroll downtown and grab brunch later. But that might be too eager.
Plus the guy had to spend the day moving his stuff out of his ex’s place and
presumably finding somewhere new to live. He had more important things to do
than eat omelets and make small talk.
Adam got the coffee brewing and fetched the newspaper from
the stoop. He heard the bathroom door open and the fan switch off, and a minute
later Stephen wandered in from the bedroom, pulling his shirt over his chest.
Adam found him a mug and set the coffeepot on the dining room table.
“Cheers,” Stephen said, pouring himself a cup. “And thanks
for letting me crash here.”
“You make me sound so selfless,” Adam said with a grin.
“Last night wasn’t exactly a hardship.”
“Good to know. That today’s paper?”
Adam nodded.
“Has it got a local listings section? Flats?”
“Oh, probably.” He sifted through the sections, finding the
classifieds. “Here you go.”
“Ta. I’m probably stuck with a shady motel until something
decent opens up, but it can’t hurt to check.”
They browsed their respective pages in what Adam hoped was
easy silence. After a long lapse in conversation he asked, “Any luck?”
Stephen shrugged, setting the pages aside. “Nah, but who
still advertises vacancies in the paper, eh? I’ll have better luck with
Craigslist. And better luck come the first of the month, probably.”
“Yeah, probably.” Adam wished they knew each other well
enough for him to offer Stephen an invite to crash here for a couple weeks, but
alas. He was old and wise enough not to make such impulsive proposals, not
while he was still tipsy and dim-witted from the sex.
“Guess I better head out soon,” Stephen said. “Let you get
on with your day. And find out if my meager worldly possessions have been
scattered all over the front garden.”
Adam made a sympathetic face.
“Not likely, though.” Stephen stood and drained his cup.
“He’s not one for a scene.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah. Small mercies. Well…” He looked around, as though
he’d just forgotten where he was. “Thanks again.”
Adam got to his feet. “Seriously, not a problem.”
Come by
any night and nail me to my mattress. Really.
Stephen checked his pockets for the essentials then they
wandered through the living room and down the steps to the front hall. Adam
watched as his one-night stand laced his boots, wondering where he’d spot him
next. Hadley’s maybe. Or maybe he’d catch himself scouring every construction
site he passed for that surly, sexy face.
“Well,” Stephen said, standing up straight. “Thanks for the
hot fucking.”
Adam laughed. “I try, I try.” He flipped the deadbolt and
pulled the door open, sunshine spilling in.
Were they supposed to shake hands now? Adam couldn’t
remember. Seemed like the curt, no-nonsense thing to do, the Stephen with a P-H
thing to do.
“Well,” Stephen said again. “Enjoy the rest of your weekend.”
“You too.” Adam smiled, squinting in the bright sunlight.
Stephen blinked at him. “Jesus, you’ve got blue eyes.”
“Do you need a lift or anything?”
Stephen shook his head. “I could use the walk, to steel
myself. And I could do without the drama of maybe getting spotted, being
dropped off by some strange, hot bloke after staying out all night.”
“You know the way back to wherever you’re headed?”
“Oh yeah, it’s not too far. Think I know where I am. There’s
an auto shop just around the corner, right?”
Adam nodded. “Would you…” He stalled out.
“Would I like to meet for a coffee or something sometime?”
Stephen ventured.
“I was going to say lunch, next weekend. Then I worried it
sounded too… You know.”
“Who doesn’t like lunch? Unless I’m busy moving or something,
I’d like that. Especially if you know a decent Indian place in this so-called
city.”
“I do indeed.”
“Then you’re on. We both broke a rule and screwed on the
first date—hell,
before
the first date—so we probably ought to go out
and maybe
not
fuck, to make up for it.”
“Deal.”
“Promise I won’t moan about my ex through the whole thing,
either.”
“Ditto.” Adam fished out his phone and they dictated their
numbers to each other.
They paused a moment then Adam put his hand out. Stephen
shook it, and Adam felt relieved and happy when the man leaned in to give him a
half-hug, rubbing his back.
“Thanks again,” Stephen said. “Hopefully I’ll see you next
weekend.”
“Hope so. Nice to meet you. Good luck with your move.”
“Ta.” Stephen trotted down the steps, turning to raise his
hand in a wave as he reached the end of the driveway. Adam raised his back.
Too early to be getting his hopes up, making restaurant
reservations for the next weekend, too early to even presume he had the first
clue how he’d feel about that man by then. Far too early to get hung up on
anyone, certainly. Still…
He imagined finding a good excuse to text him something
funny in a couple days. Better yet, getting texted first.
Felt likely he’d stop by Hadley’s a couple nights this week
for a quick beer. Very likely.
Just in case he might spot a now-familiar face, someone also
at a loose end, in need of a cool drink, an easy conversation…in the mood to
kick his ass at pool.
Cara McKenna writes smart erotica: a little dark, a little
funny, definitely sexy and always emotional. She lives north of Boston with her
extremely good-natured and permissive husband. When she’s not trapped inside
her own head, Cara can usually be found in the kitchen, the coffee shop or the
nearest duck-filled pond.
Cara welcomes comments from readers. You can find her
website and email address on her
author bio page
at
www.ellorascave.com
.
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