The Right One - Felice Stevens Page 0,21
as painful as a needle in his eye. Trust wasn’t a part of his DNA anymore. It had been beaten out of him years ago.
“I don’t believe in spilling my guts to people.”
They only hurt you in return.
The game wasn’t over, but Leo had lost interest. In fact, he wished Cantrell would get up and leave. He didn’t belong in Leo’s ugliness, with his happy parents and cute, coupley friends.
“That’s too bad. Without Chris and Sean, I don’t think I could’ve done it. That and my therapist, of course.”
“Like I said. I handle my problems without involving anyone.”
“Well, you’re lucky. Not all of us have such self-discipline.”
Their conversation sounded too much like a therapy session for Leo, and he was ready to move on to the dessert part of the evening. He did love a good chocolate-chip cookie, and the ones Cantrell had made looked and smelled incredible. He could practically taste the butter.
“I think I’m going to go.”
“What? Why?” His gaze snapped to Cantrell, who’d already left the couch and was making his way to the door.
“It’s getting late, and my head hurts, probably from the drinks. Thanks for the pizza. Let me know how much I owe you.”
Annoyed that he’d let the man get under his skin, Leo followed him and crossed his arms. “It’s a couple of slices. Nothing big.”
“I’m sorry I got out of hand. I hope you like the cookies. I promise not to get in any more trouble.”
“I wouldn’t worry about it. It was…nothing.”
Leo let his gaze travel slowly and deliberately over Cantrell, and sure enough, he dropped his eyes. Leo caught a flare of hurt in their green depths. He flushed pink, and Leo wondered if he turned the same color all over.
“Well, okay. Bye.”
Quickly, before Cantrell took another step, Leo pivoted and pulled open the door.
“Bye, 5C.”
Cantrell passed by him, and Leo had to curl his hands into fists to keep from reaching out and yanking the man to him. After Cantrell disappeared around the corner, Leo let the door slam shut. He cleaned up the leftovers and sat with a bottle of water, thinking how even with the post-game show on, the apartment sounded way too quiet, and wondering why the hell he noticed that. Or cared.
* * *
SEVEN
* * *
Morgan had been living in his apartment for close to two months and finally felt he could call it home. He’d never received another strange call so if it was Jeffrey, he felt more confident that he’d never hear from his ex again. His parents had paid him a visit, and though he could see the disappointment in their eyes at how he’d downgraded, he’d reassured them he’d never been happier.
The only thorn remaining in his side was Leo the surly super. Since that one weird night of pizza and the ball game, they’d barely spoken. Morgan imagined it was because he’d gotten a little buzzed and made a fool of himself. Leo didn’t look like the kind of guy who hung around with fools. Or anyone, for that matter.
On his way home from the library, he stopped to admire the gardens surrounding the neighboring buildings. Children rode their bikes and played tag while parents watched them with eagle eyes. Old men sat on benches under the canopy of trees and played chess and checkers, smoking and drinking coffee. It was obviously a working-class area, but Morgan appreciated how even the addition of a few flowerpots could make the buildings more inviting. Everyone deserved a pretty place to live. For weeks, he’d debated approaching Leo and suggesting that he should plant some flowers to brighten up the lawn. Screwing up his nerve, he decided today was the day. After putting the books in his apartment, he rode the elevator to Leo’s, practicing what he would say. Strange sounds emanated from behind the door, but he hesitated only a moment before knocking.
“Just a sec.”
Leo opened the door, and Morgan couldn’t help but gape at the man silhouetted in the entrance. Shirtless, tattooed arms on full display, and with his gym shorts hanging dangerously low on his hips, a sweaty and breathless Leo stood in front of him. Dark chest hair curled over his pecs, coalescing into a thin black line running past his navel, and Morgan’s mouth dried as he took in the bulge of his soft cock clearly outlined through the thin material.
Damn, he’s hung.
His ass clenched, and he wished he could feel all that power thrusting into him. A year