Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27032 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 135(@200wpm)___ 108(@250wpm)___ 90(@300wpm)
If Johnson didn’t make such a spectacle of himself with his flashy clothes and car, he’d be a decent catch.
He was strikingly handsome, smart, and had a good job. He was confident and not afraid of his sexuality. He damn near bragged about it. He bragged about everything.
Day hated how much Johnson gloated about his powerful father, not to mention the constant name-dropping—he golfed with the mayor and had cigars and brandy with the chief every month.
All those things were a huge turnoff. Day liked the quiet, indifferent type. A man who oozed confidence and bravado without trying.
“You sure you don’t want anything from the deli, God?” Seasel persisted.
God shook his head.
“You gotta eat, honey. I barely see you leave this desk, and if you do, you eat junk.” Seasel took God’s chin and forced him to look at her. “I’m gonna make you a home-cooked meal. Do you like pasta?”
God gently eased Seasel’s hand from his face.
“I do eat, just not here,” God answered.
Day met God’s eyes. His partner ate at his place at least five days a week. He cooked for God, and he didn’t need anyone else’s help.
“Fast food doesn’t count.” She sashayed away, throwing God a sexy look over her shoulder before she turned the corner.
Over the next couple of weeks, the gifts kept coming from Johnson and Seasel, everything from rare orchids to expensive chocolates to home-cooked dishes.
Day hated it.
The gifts were an insistent reminder of the faux holiday his partner hated.
The last two years, he and God had drowned themselves in liquor and bitterness, mocking the whole ludicrous idea of a “designated day for love.”
He kind of wanted to do that again. But Johnson kept rearing his braggart head, and God had a hot woman flirting a bit harder each day in hopes of getting more than a few grunts out of him.
It was after 9:00 p.m., Day was exhausted, and he still had two more hours to go.
He went to the break lounge to make his sixth cup of coffee when Johnson came up behind him, trapping him against the counter.
“Hey, handsome.”
“Johnson, not now, okay?” Day groaned. “It’s been a long shift, and it looks like I’ll be studying all night. I don’t have—”
“You need a man to take care of you,” Johnson whispered, massaging Day’s shoulder and neck. “You’re too tense.”
Fuck.
Before Day knew it, his eyelids fluttered closed as he rolled his head to the side. Johnson had targeted the exact spot that’d been knotted with stress for days.
How the hell did the guy learn to massage like that?
“You can’t tell me you don’t want this.”
Johnson’s voice was soothing, his breath warm on his neck. “I’m offering more than just flowers and candy, Day. Come to my condo on Valentine’s Day. I can have my private chef make us a gourmet meal. Wine, soft jazz, and candlelight.”
Day groaned low in his throat as Johnson dug deeper, loosening a particularly tender muscle at the top of his spine.
A shiver ran down Day’s back that had nothing to do with the hands on him.
God was close. He could feel his palpable presence. The air seemed to shift whenever he was around.
One of the cabinet doors slammed, jerking Day out of his haze and making Johnson jump and lurch away.
He turned to see God holding a mug. He was a perfect statue except for the fierce scowl marring his face, making his features appear harder and more chiseled than they already were.
“You mind putting off your orgasm until I get a cup of coffee?” God growled.
Johnson gave God a smug smile before he turned and walked out of the room, leaving Day standing there feeling busted.
“Didn’t mean to interrupt before you finished.” His partner side-eyed him while he poured his coffee. “I guess he got his date.”
Day rolled his eyes. He wasn’t going to feel bad for getting his neck rubbed by a colleague.
At least, that’s how he was justifying that interaction.
“How was Seasel’s pot roast that you scarfed down like it was made by Gordon Ramsey?” Day snapped.
“I was starving, and I hadn’t eaten all day,” God bit back. “It wasn’t like I let her mount me in the break room.”
“Oh fuck off, God. I’m tired, all right.”
“Yeah, whatever.” God stared him down while he added a couple of spoons of sugar to his black coffee. “No wonder he keeps asking you out. You’re sending mixed messages.”
Day wasn’t in the mood for this shit.
“If you were more direct with Seasel, she’d stop feeding you.” Day shoulder-checked God on his way past. “Since she said the way to your heart is through your stomach.”
His partner grumbled something under his breath that Day ignored. At the end of the shift, they grabbed their bags and left the precinct together. They hadn’t said anything to each other for the last couple of hours, and Day didn’t like the sting of the unresolved tension lingering between them.