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 hadn’t come over to be attacked.
If the truth was all he asked as repayment, Z was happy to give it. At least he could settle this one debt. If that meant Connelly might walk out on him? Well, that was what he deserved anyway. No matter how much it hurt.
So when Connelly finally slid under the blankets and curled around him, Z sighed and took a minute to savor the feeling. It could be the last time he’d have Connelly’s arms around him. He’d thought he’d been ready for that before but now he couldn’t imagine never feeling this warm and secure again. Over the course of less than two weeks, Connelly’s embrace had become essential to Z’s existence. If only he’d realized sooner.
“How are you feeling now?” Connelly asked, with a soft kiss behind Z’s ear.
Z closed his eyes as his chest squeezed painfully. “Safe.” Truth. Nothing but the truth from now on. He wouldn’t hide, he wouldn’t keep secrets. He wouldn’t let his pride keep him from living. There was no such thing as absolute control. Sometimes you had to let go and trust someone else. If anyone in his life was worthy of that responsibility, it was Connelly.
Connelly’s arms tightened and he snuggled closer. “I’ve got you.”
It was like a promise and a curse all at the same time, and a fresh round of tears pooled in Z’s itchy eyes. He didn’t bother to say the “for now” that his mind insisted on tacking on to Connelly’s words.
But instead of pressuring him, like Z had expected, Connelly just held him close, pressing gentle kisses on his neck, ear and shoulder, petting his side and arm in a sweet caress. Before Z knew it, the tension that had possessed his body all day was suddenly gone.
Without it, the fear he’d been clutching slipped away.
“I did a very stupid thing.” Understatement. He made a fist and told himself to stop hiding.
“Tell me.”
“You already know that I’m behind on my rent.”
Connelly tensed and he let out a breath like he was about to speak, but Z cut him off.
“It’s because my roommate took off with it.” He closed his eyes, hoping the rest would come easier if he couldn’t see anything. “And then I hurt myself and couldn’t work or dance. I was struggling—am struggling. But today my friend...” Z paused. Lirim’s story wasn’t his to tell. He couldn’t betray his trust that way. “He’s in trouble and needed my help. For both of our sakes, I went to Castor.”
“The club owner.”
Z didn’t ask how he knew that. This was the worst part and every cell was suspended with dread at the idea that it would be revealed. A giant weight on his chest made breathing an unbearable challenge. He inhaled, with great difficulty. “He runs an amateur porn site out of a warehouse in Red Hook. Five grand for one scene.”
He waited, expecting something—anything. A reaction. Anger. Disgust. Even jealousy. Nothing came, so he eventually continued.
“I didn’t read the fine print. The scene was a rape fantasy.” That came out shaky, so he took another deep breath in an effort to steady his voice. “Afterward...” How could he explain the rest? Looking back at what he’d done, he felt sick. He touched the end of his newly shortened hair and felt the weight of so many years of self-imposed hardness leave his spirit. Like the hair had been holding him back, shackling him to his past and his memories.
“I punched the mirror. Cut my hair.”
Finally Connelly moved, running his long fingers through the short fringe. “I like it.”
“I regretted it immediately afterward, but it was already done. Then you came and I...” He did his best to continue, though his throat had tightened unbearably. “I assaulted you.”
“It’s not assault if it was consensual.”
“I’m still sorry, you didn’t deserve that. None of what happened was your fault.”
Those fingers continued to run through his hair, massaging his head even when Connelly spoke. “Seems to me, none of it was your fault either. Stop blaming yourself.”
“No one else to blame, Hot Fudge.” A little of his old snark bled into the moment. Z bit his lip.
They were silent for long minutes, looking at each other in the dark, breathing each other’s breath, touching bare skin and soaking up warmth.
“You’re still here.” Z’s voice was soft and low.
“And I’m not leaving.”
* * *
Connelly was awake for hours after Azariah fell asleep with his face buried in Connelly’s neck and his lean body snug against his side. He peered at the empty walls like they held all the answers. Every time he closed his eyes he kept seeing Azariah crying in the tub.
Outside, the constant hum of city noise rumbled. But inside, everything was silent. Not Connelly, he was pissed.
He’d lied. He’d lied to Azariah. Maybe not with words, but definitely with his behavior. Anger had flooded him as soon as he heard Azariah’s story. So, yeah, he was pissed. At the porn-making assholes, at himself, and mostly at the man in his arms.