Page 41 of Bent, Not Broken

I raised my eyebrows at the narrow-eyed look he gave me, his mouth pressed in a thin line and his face completely serious, and it was the most adorable thing I’d ever seen. I smirked and gave him a squeeze around his waist. “Is this your fierce lawyer stare?”

“Yes, it is. It usually terrifies the jury into doing what I want.”

I snorted and cupped his cheek, leaning in to kiss him. He curled his arms around my neck and wiggled until he sat in my lap, his knees pressed into the cushions on either side of my thighs. He snuggled nice and tight against me, his ass nestled against my crotch. His pants weren’t the right material for the position, and they stretched tight over his bulge.

“You’re going to rip them,” I said, nodding at the seam that looked ready to give.

“Worth it.” He stroked the back of my head, his face nice and close to mine. “Seeing as we’ve had this little heart-to-heart, does that mean you’ll be in the mood to blow me tonight?”

“Blow you? As in suck your cock?” I leaned back against the couch, my heart doing barrel rolls against my ribs.

“That’s usually what blowing means.” He squirmed against my crotch and licked his lips.

“No.”

He pouted. “Come on, you admitted that you like me, Evan.”

“I didn’t admit that.” I knew for a fact that I had, and now I regretted it.

“Are you that afraid of my one-eyed monster?”

“Your what?”

“My disco stick. My pleasure pump. My nut cannon.”

“Polunin, stop.”

“My joystick. My woodpecker. My tiny Tim. My pocket rocket. Are you ready for my personal favorite?” He waggled his eyebrows. “My heat-seeking moisture missile.”

“I’m not fucking afraid of your cock. Now stop. What the hell do I have to do to shut you up?”

“I can think of a few things.” His tongue darted out and traced my lips. I captured his mouth with mine and kissed him until we were both breathless and my cock was feeling plumper.

“How about you go for a shower and get out of those clothes, and then I’ll take you to my room and show you how we’ll shut you up.” I massaged his ass and smirked. “I’ll give you my heat-seeking moisture missile.”

“How can a man say no to that?” He winked at me and slid off my lap. Turning his back to me, he shook his nice perky ass in my direction before sauntering off toward the shower. I couldn’t help but watch him the entire way, my eyes glued to the way those round cheeks moved in the tight pants. No wonder the jury always sided with him. I would too if I could stare at an ass like that during jury duty.

Shaking the thoughts out of my head, I grinned when I heard the shower turn on, and stood. I went to the kitchen and finished washing the few dishes I had in there, before giving the table a quick wipe. If Mom had taught me anything, it was to clean up after myself. Then I went out to the front yard where I’d thrown the papers and picked them all up. There were so many papers they barely fit when I stuffed them in the garbage can. Back inside, I started to head to the bathroom to get a preview of gleaming wet skin, when the doorbell rang. Turning toward it, I frowned. It was getting late and I didn’t have any kind of friends or relatives who’d visit at this time. The only person who came to my house was already in the shower.

I opened the door, and stilled in surprise at the sight of who stood on the other side.

Conrad. He looked wrecked, hair a mess and eyes bloodshot, but it was definitely my former partner.

“Conrad? What are you doing here?”

He swayed slightly, and I started forward but stopped myself when he straightened. He grinned, but his expression was half-cocked and almost lazy. This man in front of me was so unlike the cop I knew. “Hey, Slater.” His words slurred and he grabbed the edges of the doorjamb to keep himself upright. “Can I come in?”

The sound of the shower switching off reminded me who was inside, and I shook my head. Dread curdled inside me and desperation clawed at my chest. I needed to get him out of here, and now.

“No. What the fuck are you doing here? Monahan told me you couldn’t have any contact with anyone in the department until the investigation was over.”

“My wife kicked me out.” He chuckled and swayed again. “I got nowhere else to go.” He pushed at my chest, but I held my ground.

“You can’t come in. Go home. I can’t have contact with you.” I used my width to block the doorway.

He shoved at me again, and he used more strength than I expected from him. I stumbled backward and he charged his shoulder into my gut. I let out a surprised breath as he tripped into the house and huffed. “It’s not my fault,” he yelled. “It’s those fucking lawyers. It’s their fault, Slater. If those fucking pricks just left it alone, I wouldn’t be under investigation by IA.”

When I finally got my breath back, I held up my palm toward him and stepped closer. “You’re right. It is their fault, and we can talk about this later. You can come to the bullpen tomorrow, see the captain….”