Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 51803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51803 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 259(@200wpm)___ 207(@250wpm)___ 173(@300wpm)
“Fine,” O’Brian said at the same time Valenti said, “What’s his favorite hangout?”
Turk grinned widely again. “Why, the Dancing Queen, of course. My man likes to shake a leg once in a while -- among other things.”
“Oh, geez ...” Valenti was shaking his head, but his partner looked thoughtful.
“Might not be a bad idea after all -- return to the scene of the crime an’ all.” He raised an eyebrow. “What do you think, Valenti?”
“Why not?” Valenti asked sarcastically. “After all, we’re going to be undercover for God knows how long at a huge gay resort next week, but that’s not soon enough for you. Nooo -- you have to start taking us to gay bars now. So I say, sure, let’s go. I can’t wait.”
“What’s with you lately?” O’Brian gripped his shoulder and leaned in to peer into his partner’s eyes. “You haven’t been yourself the past couple weeks -- don’t think I haven’t noticed, babe. Somethin’ you wanna talk about? You don’t have to keep it all bottled up inside, ya know -- not when you got me to talk to.”
His partner’s warm hand on his shoulder caused Valenti to shiver. O’Brian was so close. He could smell the warm musk of the other man’s skin and see the deep-green eyes so filled with concern, and those perfect, full lips almost near enough to kiss ... He pulled away and turned to lean on the counter.
“It’s nothing,” he said. “Just got a lot on my mind lately, you know? Sorry if I got out of line, Sean.”
“Nah, that’s okay.” Sean smiled sympathetically and gave him a quick, spontaneous hug before pulling away. “I understand. Keep it to yourself if you want, Nick. Just know I’m here when you’re ready to talk.”
Valenti shook his head mutely; he would never be able to talk about what was bothering him -- not to his partner, anyway ...
* * * * *
It had come to him nearly a month ago as they sat in an unmarked car on yet another endless stakeout -- a name for the slowly growing emotion he had been feeling since that horrible night O’Brian had been stabbed. Love.
It had fallen on his head from out of the blue, like a meteor with his name on it. So many days and nights spent watching his partner recover from the near-fatal wounds. The way their relationship had grown in that time as they excluded everyone from their circle of two. O’Brian had been intent on getting well, and Valenti had been intent on doing everything in his power to heal him.
It was as though his subconscious could no longer keep its secret, and it came bursting through in a conscious thought that took him completely by surprise. Valenti had been watching his partner watch the house where their perp was known to hang out, when suddenly he’d thought: I love him.
He tried to push it away, of course; he didn’t feel that way about men. Never had before, anyway. He tried to explain it as something else. Of course I love him -- he’s my best friend, my go-to guy. My partner. I’d trust him with my life and take a bullet in a heartbeat to save him. That’s what love is, isn’t it?
He thought of all the things they’d been through together -- all the rough times he wouldn’t have made it through without Sean Michael O’Brian. The way he had fallen apart after his wife, Madeline, had left him, when O’Brian had been the only one who could hold him together, leapt readily to mind as well. Not to mention the numerous times his partner had saved his ass on the streets.
But that wasn’t it, or not all of it, anyway. That was love, sure -- the love of one good friend for another. But it didn’t explain why he suddenly wanted to reach out and run his fingers through that wild thatch of reddish-blond hair or hold O’Brian in his arms. Or caress that smooth, golden skin and kiss that full, red mouth ...
The sudden desire bloomed in his chest like an alien rose that had been sprouting stealthily for months, maybe years. It was utterly unfamiliar to him, but completely undeniable -- he wanted his partner. Wanted him sexually. I don’t just love him, he’d thought with something like despair. I’m in love with him. And there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
The knowledge was like a weight tied to his legs, and Nicholas Valenti felt he was drowning slowly, a little more every day. Drowning in his partner’s easy, casual affection -- an arm around his shoulders here, a hug there. Harris was right about them; they were comfortable with each other -- maybe too comfortable, Valenti thought miserably, trying not to show that anything was wrong.