Slow Burn (MM) by Sam B. Morgan

Author:Sam B. Morgan [Morgan, Sam B.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781623006037
Published: 2014-01-07T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

Zack only woke up because his feet were inexplicably cold, and he couldn’t seem to fix the situation. He fought with the sheets and blanket in a state of semiconsciousness but still didn’t manage to cover more than just his shins.

“Just screw you, then,” he mumbled at his bedding.

Wasn’t all the bedding’s fault. It had gotten pretty knotted and tumbled with the nocturnal activities from the evening before.

He rolled over onto his back with a big grin. Delicious nocturnal activities that made his body ache in that perfect way that no workout ever could. Memories of Brody, how he moved, the tightly held control, the potential—it made him want more. All in good time. Getting Brody to finally let go and give in to what he obviously wanted would be like releasing a bull and hoping to keep up, never mind stay on.

Speaking of the hot hard-ass…

Zack eased up to his elbows and did a sweep of his room. Problem number one, the sheet and comforter were on the damn floor, and all he had was a blanket. No wonder his feet were cold. Problem number two, where the hell was Brody?

He got up and slipped on a pair of basketball shorts and his ugly yet comfy slippers before hunting down the detective at large. His legs were stiff, more from the running, less from the fucking, and he stretched in long strides as he went down the hall.

“Hey!” he called out as he neared the kitchen. He smelled coffee. That was promising. “Coffee goooooood,” he said to himself. “Brody!”

No answer. The kitchen was empty, but the little green light shone from the coffeepot, calling to Zack like a siren of caffeine. He poured a big cup, added his favorite vanilla creamer until it looked like a latte, and took his search outside. Surely Brody hadn’t left without saying good-bye. Not after last night. Not after yesterday.

That was…to be honest, it’d all been kinds of a huge moment. Not just the next step in sex, but what they’d talked about, what they’d shared. Brody had spent the friggin’ night. It was bad form to sneak out.

Plus his suit jacket and shirt were still in the living room.

“Yo!” Zack called out the front door. “Brody?”

“What the hell are you yelling about?” Brody said from out of nowhere, making him jump. He came around the side of the house, wearing his pants and undershirt from yesterday. “You’re disturbing the peace. I could hear you yelling all the way outside.”

“Then answer, and I can quit. I was concerned about your well-being.”

Brody cocked an eyebrow and made a show of looking around Zack’s front yard. Two big oaks with low-hanging branches were weighted down by Spanish moss blowing gently in the summer beach breeze, the distant sound of morning beachcombers enjoying the day. Palmetto trees dotted the neighbor’s yard; huge clusters of humidity-loving plants and flowers colored the yard, and their car was left with windows down overnight, bikes sitting out in the yard because no one would bother any of it.

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