Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86431 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 432(@200wpm)___ 346(@250wpm)___ 288(@300wpm)
“I’d have gone in my office back there and obsessed over my last op and what I could’ve done differently,” Hart scoffed, as if he knew that wasn’t the healthy thing to do.
“Well, I’m not letting you do that, so what would be the second thing you’d do? If you were here alone, Ivan.” Free couldn’t help the grittiness in his voice. It was just something about this man that made him completely comfortable and able to be himself.
“I’d probably shower, let the jets beat on my tired muscles.” Hart reached up and gripped the back of his neck, right where Free saw the stress knots. “Heat up leftovers in the fridge, eat a late meal and try to watch some mindless television to keep from thinking about work. Then doze off.”
Free smiled.
“I bet I sound like an old man to you,” Hart grumbled.
You sound like comfort. Free narrowed his eyes. “You’re not ready for me to tell you what you sound like to me. So for now, I’ll tell you to go get that shower and I’ll have those leftovers warmed up for you when you come out…and a little something special for you that I think you might enjoy.”
Hart’s blue eyes gleamed and his eyebrows rose. It looked as if the question to ask more about said special something was on the tip of Hart’s tongue, but he refrained. Instead, he nodded stiffly, told Free to make himself at home, and turned to walk down the dark hall toward a set of double doors at the end.
Free waited for the doors to close then went in Hart’s kitchen to start his task. He was no chef, but it was simple to take already prepared food and throw it into the microwave to reheat. While he waited for a heaping plate of stroganoff to finish warming, he found some tranquil music on his phone. His nerves tried to get the better of him when he thought of all he was doing.
Please don’t think I’m a bloody tool. Free’s primary goal was to care for Hart tonight. God had told him how his best friend only worried about others and paid no attention to his own wants, and had done it for many years. It was obvious Hart was in need. He’d had a fucked-up day and no one to be there for him at the end of it. But now, he was there. He could tell that Hart still had his doubts when it came to them, but he’d show him they could be good for each other. Free wasn’t being completely selfless. Hart needed from Free, but he also needed so much from Hart.
Hart
Hart groaned for the tenth time as he tried to concentrate on trimming his beard in the shower, using the mirror he’d attached to the tile. His dick wouldn’t go down to save his life. It wasn’t easy not taking a chunk out of his face each time his length pulsed at the idea of a wickedly, sexy young man waiting for him to come out so he could give him something special. His cock jumped again. It was insane that he could go a week without getting a full erection before Free had come around, now he had to beat his shit down with a baton.
Figuring he was groomed enough and scoured clean, he turned off the dual heads and stepped out. He ignored the trembling of his hands as he dried himself.
He hurried to throw on a pair of tight briefs to keep his wayward dick in line, some baggy lounging sweats and a black tank top. He was about to slide his feet into his old man slippers, but chose to go barefoot instead. Hart came out of the room, making sure to close the door behind him loudly enough that he wasn’t sneaking up on Free.
At their initial meeting, Hart had noticed Free’s skittish ways. He’d been in law enforcement long enough to recognize someone who’d suffered abuse either mentally or physically. They both could cause so much damage. He’d immediately wanted Free to feel safe and welcome here—and around him. Maybe that was why he’d been so drawn to Free from the first day they’d met. Why he’d protected him so fiercely. That asshole Vasquez had cornered him and tried to intimidate Free, and a beast deep within him had reared its ugly head. Before he knew what he was doing, he was standing on that balcony in front of Free, snarling at anyone who’d dare try to hurt him.
“How was your shower?” Free asked, when Hart entered into the living room.
“Good.” Maybe better if you’d been in there with me. Hart swallowed. If Free tried to join him in the shower he’d most likely stand there like an idiot, covering his hairy groin.