Page 8 of Love On Deck
Connor has deflated and any spark of happiness he’d sported mere moments ago has been snuffed out. Andrew can almost see the wisp of smoke above his head.
What the hell is wrong with her? How can she not realize she’s criticizing all the joy out of him? Andrew doesn’t know their history, and maybe this is par for the course, but Connor wouldn’t have reacted so negatively if it were. Would he?
“It’s hot, Casey,” Andrew says. “Speaking as a gay man, Connor in that suit is insanely hot.” The words are out of his mouth before he even registers he’s said them. They needed to be said.
Casey’s big blue eyes turn on him and her mouth drops open; color flushes her cheeks. Good. He’s not the least bit sorry he spoke. From the corner of his eye, he sees Connor’s eyes bug out, but that can’t be helped. Connor needs someone in his corner. Apparently it’s going to be him. At least for the duration of the cruise.
Andrew hopes he hasn’t made things worse between them, because that’s the last thing he wants to do. Although, in for a penny, in for a pound, so he adds, “The suit is stylish and appropriate for a young professional athlete.” He doesn’t say gay athlete, because, really, anyone with the right body type and coloring could pull that suit off, gay or straight.
The nod and quick glance Connor sends Andrew’s way telegraphs his thanks.
Casey takes a step back and appraises her brother again. “You know what, Andrew, you’re right. I’m sorry, Connor.” She looks up at him. “I just expected something more—”
“Boring and traditional?” Connor says wryly. The smile is back, although not quite as bright as before.
Color sweeps her cheeks and she glances at Will. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“There’s nothing wrong with boring and traditional,” says Will, grinning and tugging the lapels of his navy blue pinstripe. “But I agree that Connor is neither of those things. You look sharp, bro.”
“Can we go in now?” Connor asks, clearly ready to be done with the whole thing.
“I’m starving,” says Andrew. And not just for dinner.
Chapter Four
They’ve finished dinner and have traversed the length of the ship toward the theater at the bow, Andrew bringing up the rear.
“Mr. Kulyk, is that you?” asks a man’s voice.
Connor stops and smiles. It’s another genuine grin, and Andrew’s pulse kicks up to an eleven. He comes to a halt behind Connor. Will and Casey stop and turn as well.
A distinguished-looking man dressed in a smart black suit with a black shirt and black tie looks Connor up and down.
Casey’s looking on, surprised and a bit confused.
A lick of heat flares in Andrew’s gut, but he’s got no cause to be jealous over the look Connor’s receiving from the man. Andrew and Conner spent several hours together. That’s it. Having awesome sex, sure, but nothing that entitles him to a claim on Connor’s attention or anything else.
“I clean up pretty good, eh, Mr. Sanders?” Connor asks, holding his arms away from his body.
Mr. Sanders inclines his head as his eyes sweep down and back up Connor’s body. “Indeed, you do. I hope our show pleases you as much as yours pleased me.”
A flash of color creeps above Connor’s collar and it’s an appealing look, that unabashed pleasure. Thoughts of how another kind of pleasure might look on Connor simmer in Andrew’s brain. He knows how Connor’s pleasure sounds, he knows how it feels, he just doesn’t know how it manifests itself upon Connor’s skin.
“Mr. Sanders let me use the stage this morning,” Connor explains, waving toward the theater. “To dance.”
Casey nods, understanding dawning on her face. “That was very kind of you, Mr. Sanders.”
That’s it then. Although Mr. Sanders seems more than a little dazzled by Connor, Connor has shown no return interest in the man, other than being friendly and pleasant, as well as thankful for use of the stage. Something loosens inside of Andrew, and his feelings are completely ridiculous. They barely know one another, and he doubts there’s going to be anything else between them but in-law-ship.
There’s something amazing and beautiful inside of Connor that has touched Andrew and, Christ, it’s crazy how much he wants to cherish and nurture whatever that is.
“You dance,” Andrew says, unnecessarily. He knows the answer, of course, just not the specifics.
One of Connor’s eyebrows rises as if to say, “last night,” but he nods. “Ballet.”
That explains a lot, and the sense memory of Connor’s lean body makes Andrew’s hands itch and his dick twitch. He doesn’t want to go see the show, he wants to drag Connor back to one or the other of their cabins and peel that suit off of him and map every inch of Connor’s smooth skin and taut muscles with hands, lips, eyes. But Andrew can’t because, despite any strains in their relationship, Connor promised his sister he’d spend the evening with her. That endears Connor to Andrew even further too. Family is obviously important to Connor. According to Will, Casey and Connor lost their parents when they were young.
They sit through a two-hour musical-conglomeration-thing plus a twenty-minute intermission. Connor dips his head to Casey’s ear often, making her shoulders shake with mirth. She occasionally smacks him lightly in admonishment of whatever he might have said, but still laughs. It’s another side of their relationship, but one Andrew’s glad to see.
