Grind (Wrong Side of the Tracks #4) Read Online K.A. Merikan

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Contemporary, Crime, Dark, M-M Romance Tags Authors: Series: Wrong Side of the Tracks Series by K.A. Merikan
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Total pages in book: 137
Estimated words: 127213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 636(@200wpm)___ 509(@250wpm)___ 424(@300wpm)
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But whatever. He could always see what Ezra wanted and then go back to work.

Frank shook his head and didn’t even wave at them before heading for his truck.

Living with Ezra for the past four weeks hadn’t been easy. It pained Frank to see the person he loved struggling, but not being able to express his feelings made everything even more difficult. So the place he called home was hardly a refuge anymore.

Once Ezra decided to leave, it would probably feel even worse, like a shell of a building.

Maybe then Frank would simply torch the place in an attempt to bury the past and build something new altogether.

He drove straight home, and while it was already getting dark outside, the glow coming from inside didn’t feel inviting. It was a warning, chasing him off as if he were a wild animal stalking around a bonfire in the woods. But it was better to rip off the Band-Aid sooner rather than later, so he leapt out of the truck and walked straight to the door.

He was about to knock, since Ezra was easily spooked these days, but when the door opened before he had the chance to, Frank's heart stopped before leaping into a gallop.

The silk shirt Ezra wore exposed the upper part of his chest. Despite the cast and sling, Ezra looked elegant and refined in the very same top he had on the night they met. Frank’s mouth went dry when he got the tiniest peek at Ezra’s nipple.

Was this some kind of consolation prize for him on a night of Ezra announcing his departure? Frank had thought Ezra would at least wait for the cast to come off.

“Um… hey. Jag told me there was something urgent?” he asked, stepping closer, unable to help himself. Like a moth to the flame.

Ezra exhaled, and while his body language still showed a desire for keeping distance, he offered Frank a smile. “It’s late. I thought we could eat together,” he said, stepping back to let Frank in.

Frank licked his lips. “You cooked for me?”

This was definitely a goodbye dinner. The alcohol would be there to soften the blow, just like when Ezra had told him he was leaving for LA. Only that this time there would be no goodbye fuck, because Frank wouldn’t accept pity sex.

Maybe this would be for the better, but Frank already missed having Ezra around. His wish to have him here for a bit longer was selfish, but deep down he also worried that without any people to check up on him, Ezra might be consumed by mourning a future he could no longer have.

“I’m making pasta,” Ezra said, biting his lip.

Frank wouldn’t be going back to work, would he? There was no other way. He had to accept his fate, whatever it might be.

“I’m all sweaty, let me just take a quick shower,” he said, choosing to cross the threshold and step into the warmth of tomato-scented air.

“Just don’t take long,” Ezra said, walking past a table set for two, with an artificial plant in the middle. “It’s almost done.”

“Okay. It… smells nice.” Frank dared to smile before heading for the shower, but it felt like delaying the inevitable fall of the guillotine. Then again, if he was to receive bad news, he might at least not stink while it happened.

Ezra might not remember him with fondness, but maybe at least he would not feel any disgust when thinking back to their time together.

The heavy weight in Frank’s chest did not drop throughout the brief shower, but when he returned to the living room in a fresh set of clothes, he felt more human at least. It was the first time they’d sit at the same table since Ezra’s return from the hospital, and he tried not to get emotional about it. Maybe someone like him really didn’t deserve love, and it was time to face that fact rather than hide his head in the sand and pretend he just didn’t have the time to date.

“Sit,” Ezra told him, using tongs to place long strands of spaghetti with tomato sauce on two plates. Frank itched to help him, since only having one hand made such simple tasks unnecessarily tough, but he didn’t want to suggest Ezra was incapable of taking care of himself and ended up doing as told.

“Thank you. I’m actually really hungry. What’s the occasion?” he asked to get that out of the way.

He stared into Ezra’s face when the elegant hand he itched to cover with kisses placed the plate in front of him. The biggest scar on Ezra’s face was prominent because of its redness, but it didn’t affect his facial structure which was as stunning as ever. If anything, the imperfection made him appear more real in Frank’s eyes, more tangible. He wasn’t an angel, or a magazine cover model, but someone Frank could touch, kiss, and do all sort of unspeakable things to.


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