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)
“No, you don’t know. I’ve done—”
“Hey.” He stopped Azariah by pressing fingers to his lips. “Whatever you’re about to say? It doesn’t matter. I’ve seen glimpses of the real you and I can’t stop myself from wanting to see more. Your spirit is so bright it’s like a beacon.”
Those gray-black pools of secrets glittered behind a frame of thick lashes and Connelly could swear he felt their tug on his soul. When he was sure that his message was received, he moved his hand to comb his fingers through Azariah’s silky hair.
“You’re wrong, Connelly, so wrong, but I can’t bring myself to prove it to you right now.”
Connelly exhaled a frustrated puff of air. “I swear, one day you will realize how extraordinary you really are.”
Azariah made a noise of resistance, tucking himself into Connelly’s chest.
“You will, even if I have to slay every demon in your past to make it happen.”
“I don’t need you to be my knight in shining armor. I can fight my own battles.”
Maybe. Connelly didn’t comment because it seemed to him Azariah wasn’t fighting at all anymore, not with anything or anyone other than himself. Trying to bury the dreams he couldn’t believe in behind layers of sarcasm and denial. The only thing he didn’t know was why.
Connelly flicked off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into the semi-darkness of early morning in New York City. Despite their food still waiting in the kitchen, he wasn’t moving. He was exactly where he wanted to be, so dinner could spoil for all he cared. He curled an arm around Azariah’s waist and rearranged their limbs until he was comfortable, chest to chest with Azariah’s thigh tucked between both of his.
Azariah’s warm breath tickled the hair on his chest in a steady rhythm that said he’d fallen asleep. When he was fully conscious, the man fought sentimentality tooth and nail, but take all those barriers away with great sex and he fell asleep in Connelly’s embrace as easily as a child might.
No matter what he thought about himself, Azariah was a closet optimist. A secret dreamer, with the scars to prove it. And Connelly had made it his mission to help Azariah believe in magic again.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Connelly flipped a pancake just as Azariah came into the kitchen the next morning, hair a snarled mess and red streaks marking his cheek from the pillow. He wore only Connelly’s shorts and they were so big they rode low on his hips.
Connelly’s mouth went dry. He wanted to bend Azariah over the table and fuck him into oblivion. Or worse yet, make a stupid declaration.
“Morning. How’d you sleep?”
Azariah sat at the table and rubbed at his sleepy eyes.
“I hope you like pancakes. I debated eggs and toast, but you seemed like the dessert-for-breakfast kind of guy. Am I right?”
“Coffee?” Azariah asked.
Connelly filled a mug and set it on the table. “Sugar is right there. Cream?”
“Sugar is fine.” Azariah scooped the sweetener into his drink. One. Two. Three full teaspoons.
He’d been right. The sweeter the better.
“I hope you’re hungry. I think I went overboard with the batter. I’m used to making these for my nephews and they can eat like bears before hibernation. Seriously. I don’t know how people so tiny can eat so much.”
“I’m starving.” Azariah sipped his coffee and sighed. “Thanks for making breakfast.”
“I wasn’t sure about the whole kosher thing. There’s milk and eggs in these.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Aren’t you Jewish?”
“I am. I mean, my family is. I never practiced.”
Connelly removed the pancakes from the pan and piled them on a waiting plate that already held half a dozen, then spooned more batter and listened to the sizzle.
“So, I called Raoul. He managed to pull some strings to get your arraignment rescheduled for this morning. I have to testify in court so I can drive you. Raoul’s got your keys. He’ll meet us at your place after.” Luckily his partner hadn’t given him too much shit when he’d found out Azariah was sleeping at his place because he’d been locked out of his apartment. No doubt Raoul would pounce on the interrogation train as soon as the chance came, and everything Connelly had been hiding from him would come out in the open. He was already bracing for that.
“Okay.”
Silence settled over them and it was filled with tension left over from the night before. They’d gotten serious and clearly, now that Azariah was awake, he was doing his best to put distance between them again.
Not that Connelly was going to allow that to happen, but he’d let Azariah have his delusions for now. When all the batter was used, he fetched the maple syrup and moved everything to the table.
“Eat up.”
“Smells delicious. Where’d you learn how to make pancakes?” Azariah took five and layered them with butter and syrup.
“My grandmother used to make them for us every Saturday right up until she died. I was the only one who ever wanted to learn. She also taught me her secret recipes for chili and stuffed peppers. Even my mother never pried those recipes out of her.”