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)
Connelly’s voice was husky. “Thought you’d forgotten about me.”
Z breathed through the surge of desire that rippled over his body. “Never.”
Connelly hummed and it was deep and sensual and suddenly the last thing Z wanted to do was say good-night.
“That sounds like a promise, Azariah.”
Holy hell, Z loved it when Connelly said his name like that.
He cleared his throat, trying to get under control. “Uh, sorry I took so long. I took a shower.”
As soon as the words were out of his mouth he flinched. That was so the wrong thing to say if he was trying to cool things down. Judging by the deep moan on the other end of the phone, Connelly thought so do.
“Trying to tease me?”
“I don’t tease.”
“That’s true. You take what you want and give only what you’re willing to lose.”
How could this guy know so much about him when they’d only just met?
“Unless I don’t have a choice.” Because it seemed, with Connelly, things were out of Z’s control. And a part of him liked it. Though he’d never, ever admit that out loud.
“I’ll remember that.” Connelly paused. “So, it’s your turn right?”
For a moment, Z was thrown. His turn for what? Then he remembered the thread of their previous conversation. “Seriously? You’re still up for that?”
“It was my idea. Ask your question.”
Z thought about all the things he could ask, but there was only one that mattered. “What made you decide to be a cop?”
“My father was a cop and I always admired the work he did. Protecting people, you know? I guess it’s become a habit since I was little, being the oldest son. My sister, Janie, is always dealing with one thing or another and ever since her divorce I’m the only person she can turn to.”
“Do you keep your sexuality a secret at work? Your partner seemed to know.”
“I’ve never kept it a secret, but I don’t run around waving rainbow flags and singing musicals either. Still, word gets around.”
The way Connelly spoke sounded like there was something he didn’t want to talk about. “Tell me.”
Connelly’s sigh was loud. “The worst time was during the Academy. A group of assholes found out and cornered me in the locker room. I defended myself and even broke one of their arms, but ended up getting twenty-seven stitches and had to sit in the hospital for a few days while they monitored me for brain injury.”
“Did the bastards get kicked out?”
“Suspended.”
“That’s it?”
“Doesn’t matter, they all ended up dropping out anyway. Couldn’t hack it.”
“Thank God for that. The streets are better without them.”
“So, I think I just answered three questions from you, which means I get two this time.”
“Like hell.”
Connelly’s laugh was warm. “Buck up, buttercup, and get ready for some truth-telling. I want to know why you left home.”
“I never should have called you back.”
“That hurts, Azariah. That really hurts.” But his laugh told a different story.
Chapter Fourteen
Connelly fluffed his pillow as he waited for Azariah’s answer, no doubt in his mind he’d get one. It might be full of sarcasm or designed to distract him, but it would still be true. Their bantering kept him from being too tired even though the clock on his bedside table told him it was the assfuck of dawn.
He should be sleeping.
Really, he should be doing anything but talking to Azariah on the phone and falling deeper into this obsessive attraction. But he didn’t hang up.
“It wasn’t home,” Azariah finally said.
His words brought back Connelly’s own musings from earlier and he wondered at the distinction.
“Explain.”
“Only if that counts as another question.”
Connelly chuckled. “You haven’t even answered my first one yet and you’re already trying to get out of the second? Tsk, tsk. I thought you had bigger balls than that.”
“Don’t think you can manipulate me with a challenge.” Azariah sighed. “Fine. I’ll spill my guts, but you’d better not mention the size of my balls ever again.”
Pressing his lips to hold in his amusement, knowing Azariah wouldn’t appreciate it, he settled deeper into the bed.
“So, my mom died when I was twelve. Cancer. I was forced to live with my aunt and uncle and my two cousins. They are Orthodox Jews like the rest of my family. Needless to say, I never fit in. When I got tired of being ignored I took matters into my own hands and left. I think they were probably relieved. I’d only ever been a burden. The only reason they even took me in was because they’d promised my mother on her deathbed. A ridiculous superstition that if they didn’t follow through she’d come back to haunt them.”
Connelly hadn’t been expecting that, and his heart ached for the little boy who’d lost his mother. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t you dare pity me,” Azariah said.
Of course he wouldn’t want Connelly’s condolences. Azariah was too independent and brave for such weakness. That didn’t stop Connelly from wanting to hug him though. He’d known something had hardened him against the world. He’d even drawn the comparison to the homeless boys he’d come across during his beat-cop days. Now he knew it was because Azariah had been one of those boys. No wonder he was so standoffish now.