Total pages in book: 95
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92043 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 460(@200wpm)___ 368(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
“Give it to me,” Connelly said. Then, with everything in his heart, he whispered, “Give me that part of you no one else has seen.”
The sob that escaped Azariah’s lips was full of denial.
“Come on, Azariah. Please.” He didn’t know what he was begging for, just that he needed something from the man and until he got it he wouldn’t be able to stop. He tucked his face behind his lover’s ear and pressed a small kiss there. Azariah shivered in his arms.
“Say it again,” Azariah said.
“Please.”
“No.” Azariah’s fingers dug into his forearms. “My name.”
Connelly held him tighter and closed his eyes because the request knocked him off-kilter.
“Azariah,” he said.
His lover shivered again and sighed. “Yes.”
So Connelly said it again, “Azariah.” He whispered it over and over, pouring all his longing and need into that one word, that one name that brought them both so much pleasure.
A second later, Azariah tensed and shot his release with a deep, guttural groan. When Connelly followed it was more than just a physical reaction, it was surrender.
Chapter Eleven
It was a few minutes until Z could think clearly again, and the first thought that crossed his mind was how the hell would he ever be able to screw anyone else, ever again? Because this straight-acting cop just changed his definition of great sex so thoroughly he wasn’t sure he’d ever even had decent sex before. And the fact that the man was still wrapped around him like the most comfortable and delicious blanket in the world was proof that Z had lost his damn mind.
Swallowing, he pulled Connelly’s arms from around his chest and reached behind to hold the condom as he moved away. Before the task was complete, Connelly took over.
“I got it,” Connelly said.
“Toss it in the can over there.” Z pointed to the half-full wastebasket near his dresser before flopping down on his back.
Connelly handed him a towel that had been draped over the chair in the corner, and Z cleaned himself up as best as he could. Every muscle in his body felt like Jell-O, in the best possible way. It was similar to being high. Everything was both heavy and weightless at the same time. Sex had never made him feel like this before.
And it never would again.
The thought made him sad, but Z didn’t wallow. Especially not over a guy he’d just met and knew next to nothing about. So he adjusted his position until he was leaning against the headboard and smirked at his guest.
“You look pretty pleased with yourself,” Connelly said.
“Just wondering how I can use this to my advantage. Does this score me a get-out-of-jail-free card?”
Connelly shook his head and laughed.
“I fucked an NYPD detective, that’s gotta give me some pull.”
“You’d think.” He smiled and crawled up the bed until he was face-to-face with Z. “What about me? Do you think I can get free dessert now?”
“If Sal gave all the guys I’ve slept with free food, he’d be out of business. Sorry, Hot Fudge, but you’re out of luck.”
A shadow of jealousy passed over Connelly’s face, and Z braced for what he knew would come next. This was exactly why he didn’t do closet cases. He couldn’t stand seeing the shame cloud their eyes when it was over. He hated the way they pulled away, gently, like Z would break or throw a fit. He should have known better than to jump into bed with someone as pent-up as Connelly seemed to be. But the brush-off he’d expected never came.
“Well, it was worth a try.” Lowering to the bed, Connelly closed his eyes and yawned.
Z bit his bottom lip and let his gaze roam over the man’s face and body. From his Cupid’s bow lips to the cleft chin, the five-o’clock shadow, the muscular shoulders, the round puckered scar near his shoulder, and slightly bowed legs. Connelly was gorgeous. Just looking at him had Z’s blood heating again. He didn’t want to look away. Not yet.
If he could memorize it all, maybe he would be able to go on with his life without dreaming of things he couldn’t want. Shit. What was he thinking? Obviously he’d been spending way too much time with Ansel and his newfound romantic side if he was musing about anything more than hot cocks and perky asses.
“Don’t you dare fall asleep.” He shoved Connelly’s shoulder.
“Sorry, I’m not used to staying awake this late.”
“Do you have to work in the morning?”
“Yeah.” His eyes were still closed and his words were muffled like he was already partway in dreamland.
Shit. Shit. Fuck! He looked so relaxed and comfortable and tempting.
Too tempting. Not lying down next to him was like fighting the entire universe. He’d never slept—actually slept—with anyone before and for the first time in his life he wanted to. He wanted to be held through the night. He wanted to feel safe and warm. To feel protected. God, wouldn’t that be something? A goddamn miracle. But it wouldn’t happen. No one could protect him, not if his own mother hadn’t been able to. The only person he could trust was himself.