Pushing Connor (The Dungeon #4)(16)

***

“Hey, honey. I’m home.”

Wesley closed the front door behind him and dropped the keys onto the little side table. Silence was his only answer. He searched the place, moving from one room to the next. There was no sign of Connor. He wracked his brain, trying to remember his lover’s schedule, and he was fairly certain that they were supposed to finish at around the same time. They hadn’t met at work, despite working in the same venue, and Connor still hadn’t called.

He checked his phone for the hundredth time, before giving in and dialing Connor’s number. It went to voicemail.

“Hey, Connor. I’m just checking in. Call me back when you get the chance.”

Cutting off the call, Wesley pinched the bridge of his nose. Not sure what to do, he went to take a shower, hoping the hot water would wash away his concerns. When that didn’t work, he started pacing the living room. The hour struck, and then another. Wesley kept glancing at his phone, willing it to ring. When time passed with no sign from Connor, he finally gave up and went to bed, his sleep fitful.

When he woke the next morning, he found Connor resting by his side. Wesley took his time studying his lover’s sleeping form. Connor looked pale, and even in sleep, his forehead was creased with worry. The same tension strained the corner of his mouth.

Silently, Wesley climbed out of bed and closed the bedroom door behind him as he went in search of coffee, leaving Connor to his clearly much-needed rest. He started the brew and went through his schedule for the day, but his mind kept wandering back to his lover. He was so engrossed in his own thoughts, he jumped when two strong arms encircled him.

“Good morning, love.” Connor’s breath tickled the back of Wesley’s neck when he spoke, the feeling almost too intense for Wesley’s over-tense self.

“Good morning.” Wesley couldn’t bring himself to turn in the embrace, too afraid of what he might find on Connor’s face. “I didn’t hear you come in last night.”

If he hadn’t been looking for it, Wesley would have missed the slight twitch Connor gave in response to Wesley’s statement.

“Yeah, sorry about that. I wanted to clear my head. I took a walk, stopped for a beer.”

The words stung. Why hadn’t he asked Wesley to join him?

“I called you last night. I was worried.”

Connor pulled away, hesitating. “I know, I’m sorry.” He stepped back, and Wesley turned to him. Connor’s gaze dropped to the floor, before he looked back up and met Wesley’s eyes. “I should have called.”

“You should have, yeah.” Wesley fought to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but at Connor’s wince, he knew he had failed.

“Hey.” Connor reached for him and pulled him closer, wrapping his arms around him. Wesley went along stiffly. “I’m really sorry I didn’t call. I didn’t think.” He kissed Wesley’s forehead, before using the crook of his forefinger to lift Wesley’s chin and look him in the eye. “I didn’t mean for you to worry.”

“You were gone almost the entire night.”

“I was.”

At least he wasn’t trying to deny it, and his gaze was as open and honest as Wesley had ever seen it.

“I really needed the time to think. I was alone, and it was just beer. Okay, two beers. I hate that I made you worry. I promise not to do it again. I love you.”

There was no trace of doubt in Connor’s voice. Wesley nodded, but there was a nagging feeling that told him he was still missing part of the puzzle.

***

Connor saw Wesley’s distress, and he hated himself for causing it. He longed to comfort Wesley and brush his worries away. But he couldn’t. His head was a mess, and he could barely survive the days at work without causing harm to others, or to himself.

What could he tell Wesley? That he was a fuck-up? That he’d gone from being a confident, experienced Dominant to a beginner who could barely hold everything together during a scene?

He went through the motions of the day, more tired than when he’d gone to bed the night before. He dreaded going back to work. His workday was supposed to be short—just Matthew and one other client—but to him, it felt like ages.

His body felt sore, his mind and muscles tired, his stomach unsettled. Perhaps he should have spoken with Lucas. Or even called in sick. But he dreaded the questions even more than going to work, which left him no alternative.

***

During the days that followed, Wesley’s concern increased as Connor grew colder. It wasn’t like he was doing it on purpose, or he didn’t seem to be, but he got quieter. He spent more and more time at work or in town, walking home, and when he was there, he avoided Wesley.

They didn’t go to bed at the same time, and the one time they’d been intimate, Wesley had felt Connor’s disconnection throughout the act.

And with each passing minute, Wesley sank deeper into despair. Was it work-related? Why was Connor not talking to him? Wesley craved to be of help to him, for them to be close again. Yet, when he looked at Connor’s tensed shoulders and pale cheeks, he couldn’t bring himself to say anything.





Chapter 7


“You have to tell me what’s going on.”

“Nothing.”

“I never thought I’d say this to you, of all people, but you’re lying. And I don’t appreciate it.”