fuonlyknew

Bodie stood and offered
his hand as if it was the most natural thing to do.

“Come on. The
aquarium staff is going home for the night. I’ll walk you back to your
car.”

Zayne cocked his head
sarcastically. “You don’t think I can take care of myself,
detective?”

“It’s not that.”

“Oh, I get it. Porter and Harris told you to keep an eye on me.”

“Actually, they told me the opposite.”

“Then why are you doing
all this? I mean, the ice cream, the aquarium, escorting me to my car.”

Zayne took a step closer
to the young man still holding his hand. A burst of heat erupted in his chest.
His skin felt like it was on fire. The scent of sandalwood swirling around him
tempted him to give in to the undeniable need coursing through his body. Unable
to resist, Zayne leaned even closer to the sexy detective.

“If I didn’t know better,
I’d say this was our first date, Detective Hale.”

Bodie’s expression
remained unchanged, but he couldn’t hide the lovely shade of pink that was now
coloring the tips of his ears.

Zayne’s thumb drew slow,
seductive circles on the back of Bodie’s hand. He daringly slipped his long,
elegant fingers between Bodie’s until their palms touched. When their grip
tightened with a natural ease, his heart stuttered as Bodie’s breathing quickened.
Their intimately joined hands sent the most exquisite tremors rushing through
his body.

“What are you doing?” Bodie whispered, his voice ragged.

“I don’t know. But it feels right. Doesn’t it?”

Zayne’s heart thrashed
wildly inside his tight chest as Bodie lifted his free hand and cupped the side
of his face. He could feel the calloused skin tenderly cradle the smooth skin
of his cheek. Giving in to his body’s demands, he closed his eyes and nuzzled
into Bodie’s warm hand.

“Zayne…we…we can’t.”

Zayne’s eyes shot open. He
wrenched his hand free and took three quick steps back.

“I-I-I’m so sorry! I don’t know what I…”

Bodie turned, heading for
the exit, his head hung low. “It…It’s fine. Come on. Follow me.”

Zayne couldn’t see the
detective’s face. But he could read Bodie’s body language loud and clear.

What the hell came over
him? Of course, Bodie would be disgusted. He’s a man, for god’s sake! A damn
hot man who, even if he was gay, would never be interested in Zayne.

This is crazy! I’m not
even gay! I’m not. At least, I’m pretty sure I’m not. I’m just tired, lonely,
and fucking horny. I can’t even remember the last time I got laid. This is
ridiculous. How am I going to look him in the eye after this? He probably hates
my guts. He’ll probably tell the captain he can’t work with me anymore.
Whatever. I didn’t want his help anyway.

“Are you coming?” Bodie asked.

But Zayne didn’t seem to
hear him. He remained where he was, internally scolding himself for acting like
a complete idiot. It wasn’t until he felt Bodie’s fingers threading through his
that he snapped out of his bubble of self-loathing. He looked into the
detective’s eyes, shocked to see a devilish satisfaction shadowed by a hint of
hope in their golden depths.

“I’m not angry,” Bodie
said softly, gently squeezing Zayne’s hand. “You’re tired and, just taking a
guess here, hungry?”

Zayne nodded. Well, he may
have read Bodie all wrong, but the detective knew exactly what he was feeling.
It was nice—really nice—to finally be seen by someone. Granted, it was by a
complete stranger, which was the damndest thing. Yet Bodie didn’t feel like a
stranger. How was that possible? Had they met before?

“Alright then. We’ll stop
for something on the way back to the station. But nothing greasy or spicy.
You’ll have nightmares.”

Zayne gave Bodie a broken smile.

Oh, Detective Hale. You
have no idea what a nightmare is. Trust me, junk food is the least of my
worries.

Zayne could tell Bodie was
trying to read his thoughts. The way a tiny wrinkle appeared between the
detective’s brows and his pale eyes danced with questions had Zayne thinking
hard about trusting this man with his secrets.

“Everything okay?” Bodie asked.

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“Well then, follow me.”

Zayne shook his head
casually. “Not until you answer my question.”

“What question?”

“The one I asked earlier.”

“Ohhh. The one about why I’m doing all of this. That one?”

Giving Bodie an annoyed
smile, Zayne replied, “Yes, that one. I mean, you’re a detective sent here to
catch a serial killer. Shouldn’t you be out looking for clues or arresting
suspects instead of buying me food and taking me to see fish?”

A smile borne from honesty
lifted the corners of Bodie’s lips. “What can I say? I enjoy taking care of
you. I like to see you smile. You should do it more often. It’s sexy.”

Eyes wide and heart
racing, Zayne gulped down the words taking shape on his tongue. Bodie’s answer
caught him off guard and left him wondering if he was dreaming.

“Come on,” Bodie whined,
tugging on Zayne’s hand. “I won’t let you down. I promise.”

Of that simple fact, Zayne was now convinced.

“Where are we going?”

“Do you trust me?”

Zayne looked into Bodie’s unrelenting gaze and answered from his heart.

“Absolutely.”

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Caden Mitchell wasn’t supposed to
be here. It wasn’t supposed to be him sitting in this seedy strip club,
avoiding the advances of women he had no interest in. Initially, his head of
security had been assigned to this location. But, when they got a last-minute
tip about an illegal shipment of drugs arriving tonight down at the harbor,
Caden was forced to take the mission at the club while his associate followed
the lead at the docks.

It really was the best plan.
Unfortunately, now he’s the one stuck sitting here in this hell of
overstimulation instead of the quiet of his condo, reading a good book while
enjoying a cup of tea.

The flashing, colorful lights
around him make his eyes hurt. The loud music, if you can even call it that,
feeds the headache clawing at the front of his skull. The pungent smell of the
filthy carpet, the ripped vinyl seats, and the smoky air all trigger waves of
nausea that churn his empty stomach. Everything about this place reeks of
desperation and sex.

From the moment he sat down over
an hour ago, Caden has kept his head and eyes down. He can’t afford to draw
attention to himself if he wants to complete his mission. However, as he
catches the scent of someone new walking through the doors, his head lifts
slightly so his sharp eyes can follow the man he was sent here to observe,
possibly capture, but most likely, kill.

His senses heighten as he watches
his target casually approach the bar and order a beer. The man dressed in a
blue suit too expensive for this cheap club turns to scan the crowd cautiously.
Caden quickly lowers his head again and casually takes the final sip of bourbon
from his glass. A minute ticks by before he looks up to zero in on his target
again.

But instead of finding his prey,
Caden is met with a pair of striking gray eyes staring back at him with an
arousing playfulness.

He can’t look away. Even though
his breaths remain slow and even, his heart rate accelerates like a racehorse
out of a starting gate. The blood in his veins burns like fire beneath his
skin, yet he keeps his expression shrouded with disinterest. Heated shivers
ripple outwards through his body as his eyes catch the faint, mischievous smile
taking shape on the bartender’s perfectly bowed lips. When the owner of those
mystifying silver eyes begins walking toward him, Caden’s grip on the empty
glass in his hand tightens. 

Everything in the club fades to
the background except for the man striding confidently to the small round table
in the corner, where Caden waits, his sensitive ears listening to the steady
beat of the bartender’s strong heart. His cobalt blue eyes catch every movement
of the young man’s sinewy muscles beneath his black, skin-tight jeans and
barely-there crimson red shirt. Everything about the bartender fascinates him.
But it’s the innocent man’s scent that truly captivates him.

Caden has never smelled anything
this heavenly before. The bartender’s fragrance is a potent blend of rosewood
and sweat, compelling him to inhale deeply until he can taste it on his tongue.
The combination is exhilarating, yet there’s something else subtly interwoven
beneath it that draws him in like a siren’s song—something Caden believes he
has smelled before but has been lost to him over time.

“What can I get you, handsome?”
the bartender asks with a flirty tilt of his head.

Caden’s fingers itch to bury
themselves in the man’s soft hair. The urge to pull on the strands at the root,
baring the man’s neck to his teeth, has him clenching his jaw. He swallows
stiffly as the bartender’s large, almond-shaped eyes openly travel up and down
his body. They’re lined with endless rows of black lashes so thick that it
gives the illusion that the young man is wearing eyeliner. It makes Caden want
to see if the barkeep is as dangerous as he looks. His eyes drink in the young
man’s bare arms, his mouth going dry when the sly minx of a man flexes his
biceps. The bartender has veiled them, along with the sun-kissed flesh covering
his exposed collarbones, with some sort of fine body glitter. The seductive
man’s naked skin glistens with every breath he takes, every minute shift of his
lean body, and all Caden wants to do is lick it off him. 

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When I was young, I read books to escape the small town I
grew up in. College, work, and family took me away from the stories I loved.
But in 2020, when everyone was isolated, my youngest daughter introduced me to
Japanese anime, and I fell into a hole I never want to leave. Fan fiction
showed me that anyone can create stories and share them with the world. Three
encouraging words from my best friend gave me the courage to write my first fan
fiction later that year. Not long after, I completed the series, A Soul’s
Caress, my first original story but not my last. At 55, I now understand the
meaning of George Eliot’s quote, “It’s never too late to be what you might
have been.”

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