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)
“Stay here while I get a towel and bandages, okay?”
There was no answer so he hurried to the bathroom to collect what he could find. The bloody footprints meant Azariah had cut himself. Who knew what other injuries Connelly might find. He grabbed a few towels, bandages, tissues and an antibacterial ointment past the expiration date but better than nothing.
With his hoard, he returned to Azariah, who hadn’t moved. He sat still as a statue, except for the constant shiver, staring at the floor. When Connelly wrapped the largest towel around his shoulders, he finally looked up and blinked.
“I hurt you,” Azariah said, his eyes gleaming. “I’m sorry. So sorry. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
Connelly knelt, keeping the towel snug with one fist in the center of Azariah’s chest. “No, you didn’t.”
“I wasn’t thinking. No condom. No lube. I saw the bruises.”
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t really thinking either. I could have stopped you if I’d wanted to.”
At this, Azariah shook his head. “I was a monster.”
“No. Rough? Yes. But it was hot as hell, baby. You got me off faster than I’ve ever gotten off before.” Even now, with everything dark and heavy surrounding them, Connelly couldn’t keep the lust and awe from his voice.
Azariah must have noticed because his brows rose a fraction of an inch and something that looked a lot like relief shone from them. “Really?”
Connelly wiped away a stray tear with his thumb. “I swear to you, if that’s what’s eating you up inside, there’s no need.”
Azariah let out a deep, shuddering breath that was so powerful and seemingly cathartic, he closed his eyes. His head fell forward and rested on Connelly’s shoulder.
“Let me take a look at your feet. Then we’ll dry off and get under the covers, okay?” Connelly pressed a kiss to Azariah’s cheek, pulling back enough to lift his right foot for inspection. “Not as bad as I’d expected.”
There were only a few minor cuts so he wiped them off and applied the ointment. When he was done he examined the other.
“It could have been a lot worse. You know that, right?”
Azariah’s nod was indulgent in a way a child’s might be when he didn’t really care about the lecture.
“You’re lucky you don’t need stitches,” Connelly said. “Will you tell me why you were walking around barefoot?”
“I didn’t mean to, but you were knocking.”
Connelly pressed his lips together and kept his head down while he finished cleansing and bandaging Azariah’s left foot. The admonishments were on the tip of his tongue. It was so easy to be the responsible role model who always did the right thing, but he didn’t want to be that way with Azariah.
There might be so much more to their relationship than that if they could each fight their familiar guises and be real. Sliding into the same pattern as he had with all his exes would be the death of whatever was blossoming between them. But hadn’t he already slipped? When he’d paid Azariah’s rent, he’d done so, in part, out of habit. He shook off the thin strings of apprehension that threatened to hinder him now. It wasn’t the time for regrets. What was done was done, and he’d done it for Azariah’s own good.
Just like what he was doing now, healing wounds, providing protection—it was his role.
He took the towel from Azariah’s shoulders and wiped him down from his dripping hair to his swollen ankle. Then he adjusted the covers and tucked Azariah into them.
“I thought you were going to join me,” Azariah said without a trace of innuendo or flirtation.
Connelly toed off his sopping shoes and peeled off his socks. “If I do, you’ll have to talk to me.”
Chewing on his lip, Azariah didn’t take his eyes from Connelly as he shrugged off his jacket and removed his shirt. With his fingers hovering near the button of his jeans Connelly asked, “Are you prepared for that?”
Azariah took a deep breath. “If I tell you, you won’t want to stay.”
* * *
Z was so tired. His heart ached, his muscles cramped and his head was pounding, but he couldn’t stop looking at Connelly. If he even blinked, Connelly might disappear. He was still wondering if his presence was a dream. Z was definitely in shock, and not just from the porn shoot. He could be hallucinating.
At least, that’s how it felt because every touch made his heart jump and he would swear that the stupid organ swelled every time Connelly looked at him with those soft, understanding eyes. His real fear was that he’d lose that feeling. He’d never see that perfect gaze again after he explained every terrible mistake he’d made over the past few days.
Connelly turned to place his jeans over the door and Z saw all the terrible marks he’d made on that beautiful skin, saw the evidence of his invasion, his brutality. No matter what Connelly said, it had been wrong to do that. It was worse than what had happened to him because he had signed up for it, and at least he’d gotten paid.