Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 93984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 93984 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 470(@200wpm)___ 376(@250wpm)___ 313(@300wpm)
In the bathroom, he frowned at his reflection. The man staring at him had his hair standing up in every direction, tired brown eyes, and a thoroughly rumpled T-shirt. He turned on the water, allowing it to heat. He stripped, brushed his teeth, removed his contacts, and quickly shaved.
He paused long enough to pull off the old bandage and survey Gabriel’s handiwork. As he’d expected, there was a short line of tiny, neat stitches pulling his flesh together. There couldn’t be more than five of them. A small hole, a stupid bullet, and lots of blood. The entire thing would be healed in a matter of days.
Digging through the cabinets, he slapped a new waterproof bandage on it and stepped into the shower. A low groan rumbled up his chest as the hot spray soaked his hair and pounded on his shoulders. He closed his eyes and lost himself to the heat.
Justin tried to clear his mind. Let all thoughts of his current job go. And for a moment, he forgot about Iaso, the dead scientists, and the attempt on his life. But he couldn’t force Gabriel Prescott out of his mind.
The man was an interesting enigma. Dark and brooding were easy descriptors, lazy ones. He was cautious, but anyone who’d clearly been doing this job as long as Gabriel learned to be cautious.
He had a quick, analytical mind. A surprisingly gentle bedside manner. A wry, sharp sense of humor that he tried very hard to mask, but he couldn’t completely, which intrigued Justin more than anything else. Why did he want to be so standoffish? Why did he fight each laugh? Every snarky comment he made felt as if it was dragged kicking and screaming from his lips.
Okay, so maybe he’d also noticed Gabriel’s amazing ass when he’d turned away from him at the closet. The moment Gabriel’s towel had fallen between them, Justin swore his entire body had caught on fire. He’d wanted to look but had stubbornly kept his eyes locked on Gabriel’s dark ones. His palms had itched to reach out and run over the warm skin of his thighs, over the smooth curve of each ass cheek.
Gabriel’s looks had struck him as grim and harsh, too angular for his liking. Justin had always gone in for men who looked sweeter, softer. But something in the way those black eyes watched him, in the way one corner of his mouth reluctantly tilted at him when he said something sarcastic had Justin wanting to pin the assassin to the nearest wall and kiss the fuck out of him.
And he didn’t doubt that Gabriel would return the kiss. Those assessing looks weren’t just about where to stick the knife. Some were definitely about where he wanted to stick his cock. But something in Gabriel’s tone and comments left Justin sure that the man was more than a little skittish about mixing business and pleasure.
But had he been into having a little fun while working on this job, Justin could so imagine Gabriel standing in this shower with him, hot water cascading down both their bodies. Gabriel would step closer, his bare tattooed chest brushing, sliding against Justin’s, teeth lightly biting on the thick cords of muscles along Justin’s shoulders. He’d reach out and skim his hand along Gabriel’s back, massaging away the last of the tension before digging his fingers into the meat of Gabriel’s ass.
Bucking forward, Gabriel would rub his cock against Justin’s, wringing moans out of both of them.
Justin swore softly and tilted his head into the spray while wrapping his hand around his hard dick. This was what he got for fantasizing about his grumpy partner while in the shower. Bracing his free hand on the cool tile, Justin stroked himself, imagining he had both their dicks in his hand. He wanted to hear each of Gabriel’s desperate pants in his ear, wanted to feel his throbbing length, feel it swelling as he got closer to orgasm. He wanted Gabriel to swear and shout his name just as hot cum splashed across his hand, their stomachs.
“Fuck!” Justin cried out as he came hard. His vision blurred a bit, and his knees wanted to give out as his spend hit the floor and was immediately washed down the drain.
Fan-fucking-tastic. He was jerking off to visions of Gabriel Prescott. He’d definitely lost his mind. Better to get this out of his system now. Playing around with the guy who was supposed to be watching his back was a bad idea.
Chapter 7
Justin’s hands tightened around the steering wheel as he directed the car up the curved driveway leading to the emergency room. He stole glimpses over at the blood-soaked rag Gabriel was holding tightly to his left hand. Mentally, he swore at the man. The damn wound had looked too deep when he’d pressed the blade into the meaty heel of his palm. It didn’t look like a kitchen accident. It looked like the motherfucker had been in a knife fight. Goddamn it.