The Right One - Felice Stevens Page 0,20

few moments Leo stood in the humid evening, trying to drag some air into his lungs.

It was only pizza. They’d eat and then he would send Cantrell home. Nothing more. Back inside the apartment, he found Cantrell doing a dance in the living room, the sounds of cheering roaring from the television.

“A walk-off.” Cheeks flushed and eyes heavy-lidded from the drinks, Cantrell met him halfway to the door. “Over the left field fence. Bam.” He made a right hook, laughed, and swayed.

Leo set the pizza box on the counter and took Cantrell’s shoulder. “Better sit before you get so excited, you fall.”

“Uh-huh.” Cantrell licked his lips and met Leo’s eyes. “I feel kind of spinny.” Cantrell laid his head on Leo’s shoulder.

Crap. The guy wasn’t kidding. He couldn’t hold his liquor at all.

“Let’s have you sit down.”

Leo led him to the couch, and Cantrell fell into the cushions, taking him along, surprising Leo with the strength of his grip. He had no idea what was on the screen and couldn’t care less if the Mets hit ten home runs.

Heavy breathing filled the air, and Cantrell sighed, lips pressed against Leo’s neck. Fuck, he wasn’t a saint. Cantrell felt good in his arms, his cock hard between them. If Leo moved, he could kiss those full lips he knew would taste sticky-sweet from the drink, and he’d have Cantrell stripped naked in no time. Even now, his hands itched to cup that ass and impale the man on his cock. Leo closed his eyes for a moment, then pulled Cantrell’s clinging arms from around his neck.

“Cantrell, sit up. Pizza’s here.”

Cantrell’s eyes flew open, and his face turned bright red. “Wha—oh, my God. What am I doing? I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” He backed away and huddled in the corner. “I didn’t mean to be so stupid.”

Watching him carefully, Leo didn’t like what he saw. Why did he keep apologizing? Leo narrowed his eyes at the miserable man staring at the floor.

“Chill out. Let’s eat the pizza before it gets cold. I’ll get us both some water.”

Blinking furiously, Cantrell shrugged. “Sure, whatever.”

Leo hopped off the sofa, and when he returned with two waters, placed one in front of Cantrell, careful not to move too quickly and startle him.

“Here, guest gets the first slice.” He lifted the pizza, set it on a paper plate, and put it in front of Cantrell, then took one for himself. Chewing on his pizza and directing his attention to the TV, Leo left him alone, but in his peripheral vision, he saw Cantrell drink half his water bottle before reaching for his pizza. He ate his whole slice and finished his water.

“I-I’m sorry I let that happen. I can’t hold my alcohol. My ex-husband didn’t like me to drink for this reason.”

“What reason? You got a little drunk and a little silly? It wasn’t a big deal.”

“It was to Jeffrey.” Cantrell spoke softly, gazing into his now empty water bottle.

“Jeffrey was your husband?”

“Yeah.”

Leo lifted a second slice for each of them, then ate half of his. “How long were you married?” He knew the answer from reading their wedding announcement but wanted to hear Cantrell say it. See the reaction.

“About three years. We’ve been divorced close to a year now.”

“You lived in the city, right?”

“Yeah. With my friends. Afterward.” He bit off the pointy end of the slice. “They scored again. Mets are up four to one.”

They could be up twenty to one and Leo wouldn’t be half as interested as to what had happened to Cantrell to put the devil in his eyes. He guessed Cantrell to be about thirty, and married in his midtwenties, he wouldn’t have lived on his own too long, if at all. Young, probably innocent, and so naïve, it practically screamed from his open, trusting face, Morgan Cantrell was prime meat for a wolf to gobble up. Especially a wolf in sheep’s clothing like he suspected the ex-husband to be.

“Nice of them to take you in for so long.”

Cantrell shrugged. “They’re my best friends and care about me. Chris is the first person I met on my job—we teach in the same school—and his partner, Sean, is my divorce lawyer. We’d do anything for each other. My parents live way upstate, and I couldn’t go running home to them. Don’t you have friends like that?” He took another bite.

Peter would like to be if Leo let him, but the thought of being as open and trusting with his history as Cantrell…that was