Coda Books 04 - Strawberries for Dessert (MM)

or two, I’ll be heading back to Paris for the holidays. I’ll probably come home to find him shacked up with some big angry cop. Now why does that story sound familiar?
    Take care, Sweets, and say hello to your big angry cop for me. Let me know if steam actually emerges from his ears when you do.

    HE SPENT Sunday and Monday night with me at my house. Tuesday morning, he lay in bed, talking nonstop as he watched me dress. He talked about needing a haircut and what we should have for dinner and made what I thought was an off-hand comment about not having been to Mazatlan since college. By the time I got home from work that afternoon, he was already on the beach. He called to tell me he would be gone at least a week. I could only marvel at how he seemed to flutter wherever the wind might carry him. I didn’t hear from him the rest of the time he was gone, but two Fridays later, I came home to find him barefoot in my kitchen.
    The next morning, I got up and went for my usual morning run and then showered. He was still sleeping when I came out of the bathroom. The sheets covered him to his waist. He was facing away from me. I could see only cinnamon-colored hair, a bare back, and narrow shoulders. His caramel skin looked even darker than usual against the clean white sheets.
    I was surprised at how my desire for him only seemed to grow.
    With other partners, the excitement often waned. But not with him. Not yet, at any rate. I dropped my towel and climbed naked onto the bed behind him. I pushed up against him. As always, his hair smelled like strawberries. I kissed the back of his neck and ran my hand down his soft stomach.
    “Mmm…” he mumbled sleepily. “If it’s before six, I’ll never forgive you.”
    “It’s almost seven.”
    He stretched, leaning back against me. “Mmm…” he said again, but this time it sounded less like sleepiness and more like arousal. “In that case….”
    I moved the sheet out of the way so I could press my growing erection against him, and he moaned. He let me push him on to his stomach and spread his legs so that I could wedge myself between them. I loved the way he felt when he was flat underneath me like this.
    His body was thin and seemed delicate, and yet I knew from experience that he was not the least bit fragile or timid when it came to sex. I kissed the back of his neck, flicking my tongue over that butterfly mark that always seemed to call to me. “I love the way your hair smells,” I told him, and he laughed breathlessly.
    I slid my hand underneath him, down to his erection. He arched his back, pushing his hips back against me. I had really only meant to tease him a little, but the pressure on my groin made me suddenly want to do more—and quickly. I wrapped my hand around his shaft and started to stroke him.
    “More,” he whispered.
    “Tell me what you want,” I said, keeping my strokes light and slow.
    “What I always want,” he said. He thrust his hips back against me again, causing my breath to catch in my throat in anticipation. “Hurry.”
    I was glad to hear that I wasn’t the only one feeling a sense of urgency. I reached for the drawer next to the bed where the condoms and lube were, and—
    My doorbell rang.
    “You have got to be kidding,” he said with obvious frustration, and I laughed. “Who on earth would be ringing your doorbell this time of the morning?”
    “I don’t know,” I admitted. “Probably Julia.”
    “What a shame,” he moaned. “I rather thought I liked her, too.”
    I was debating ignoring the doorbell, but he abruptly pushed me off of him, rolling away and causing me to fall off the bed. I landed in an inelegant pile on the floor. He didn’t even look back. “You can make it up to me after breakfast,” he said as he headed for the bathroom.
    So much for ignoring the doorbell.
    I dressed quickly and opened the door, hoping Julia wouldn’t notice the telltale bulge in my pants that wasn’t quite covered by my shirt. But it wasn’t Julia on my porch. It was my father.
    On the bright side, my erection went away in a hurry.
    “Dad!” I said in alarm. “What are you doing here?”
    He held up a bag from the local donut shop. “I was in the area and thought I’d stop by for breakfast.”
    “Oh,” I said stupidly, because I wasn’t sure what else to say. I was wondering if there was any chance of getting rid of him before Cole came out of the bedroom or of convincing Cole to stay in the bedroom until my dad