Page 57 of Conner's Luna

Bailey

We all pile into the living room. So many men in one space makes me very nervous. Wouldn't it make anyone frightened, just a little? Especially when so many eyes are on me. I think I even saw one of the men make a motion that looked suspiciously like he was tracing a person-sized hourglass in the air with both hands. When I looked, though, his hands were rubbing the back of his head and he was glaring at one of his friends.

That's my excuse for clinging to Conner like a baby koala. He's the safe port in the storm. I sit next to him, but then I have to budge over as Sean sits down right next to me. Then, a smirking Braxton sits down on Sean's other side.

These men arehuge. When Sarj leans against the couch, hemming me in. I have to move my legs. I shift into Conner and with an ease that I'm jealous of he wraps his hands around my waist and lifts. Just like that, I'm on Conner's lap.

I freeze, blushing, but no one else seems discomfited by our position. I've been close to Conner before, but this... in front of an entire room of strangers?

Two of the men are wrestling over the remote. I'm not sure why they're fighting when it's already been decided what we're watching. Men just like feeling in control, I guess.

The large, extremely gorgeous, older man in the corner barks something in rapid-fire Spanish. I took Spanish in high school, but only for two years and there's no way I would be able to decipher his words, but whatever he said works, and the two men sit down, grumbling good-naturedly.

During the last ten minutes of pre-game I'm offered beer four times, wine twice (even though there isn't a wine bottle in sight) and juice or water six times. A plate of food is shoved in my face and Conner takes it, sitting it on the armrest. We share the food, me nibbling on the french fries and him wolfing down his burger.

The game starts and it's impossible to understand. Whistles blow and the men shout at the TV. The referee says something in Spanish and the commentators sound like they're arguing with each other about the call. I try to pay attention to the screen. This game can't be that hard to understand. I just have to apply math concepts to the rules.

Except Conner is so warm and my eyes keep closing. The TV blurs and I feel Conner shift me so that my legs are more comfortable on top of someone else. A blanket is tucked around my shoulders and it's really hard to open my eyes to see who did it.

Conner's fingers thread through my hair, massaging my scalp gently. I feel the tension in my body melt away slowly. The men erupt in a cheer, shouting at the game exuberantly, and my body jerks awake, but Conner pats my back and murmurs a soft, "hush, Bails. I've got you, babe."

The room grows quieter. All I can hear is the steady beating of Conner's heart and his slow inhales and exhales. I feel a gentle breeze on my forehead and then nothing.

---

My lips part. I'm feeling scorchingly hot. I blink my eyes, but the world is foggy. All I see are the most intense glow of beautiful green eyes.

Conner tilts my head a little more, the better to kiss me with. Fingers trail over my bare thighs, then dip inside my panties.

I wake up with a shriek that turns into a yawn, cracking my jaw.

Conner looks just as stunned as I do. "Shit, Bailey! I was sleeping. Fuck."

I'm lying on top of him. I can feel my soft, plump body sinking into his hard, muscled planes.

"Oh my, God," is all I can say as I scramble off of him. We are, thankfully, the only two left in the room. The TV is still on but turned low, and all of the trash I expected to be left behind is nowhere in sight.

"Easy, Bails. Don't," he says sharply.

I freeze when I realize that my elbow is about to dig into his abdomen. Conner has gone tense, anticipating the hurt I'm about to cause him.

"Sorry," I whisper. "I'll get up slowly."

"Don't," he repeats, but much more gently. "I like this."

I ignore his plea and sit up all the way, anyway. "Conner," I say, uncomfortable, "we aren't-"

He surges forward so quickly he blurs in front of my eyes. Hey! My glasses aren't on my face anymore. The kiss is swift and over before I can protest.

"Not cool!" I snap, standing on shaky legs. "You are not my boyfriend," I pause, "and tell that to Sarj, too!"

"What does being your boyfriend have to do with anything?" Conner asks, standing to his much-more-impressive height.

"I will make out with my boyfriend," I say succinctly. "Not you."

"You don't have a boyfriend," he points out with narrowed eyes.

I immediately feel offended, even if it's true. "Not at the moment, but-"

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