Page 56 of Breathe
Azrael wanted to go after the man who’d shot at Apollo, but there were several ways to get in and out of that building. He also knew that two, if not more, of the men with Micky had been injured. He himself had stabbed two, while Rebel had knifed another…
A noise from the other room brought Azrael back to the pounding shower, and he lifted his face to the water and grabbed the shampoo to wash his long hair.
Rebel had been beside himself when he and Real had reached the SUV. Azrael struggled, but Real wasn’t putting him down.
Rebel had stepped closer and gripped his arm hard.
“You said you were right behind me.” Tears thickened Rebel’s voice.
“I was. It’s not your fault,” Azrael said.
“Get in,” Real growled, and instead of letting him do it himself, the man tucked him into the back seat and slammed the door.
Crow and Rebel parted ways at the hotel entrance, and Azrael barely got to say goodnight before Real was marching him through the lobby to the elevator.
It was nighttime and not as busy as day, and he was sure his bloody state would have drawn a few gasps and stares, but Real tore off the leather jacket he was wearing and draped it over his head.
Upstairs, instead of going to the room Azrael had used before, Real had brought him to another one.
Was this Real’s hotel room?
If so, then this was someplace he didn’t want to be.
The rumpled bed out in the other room reminded him of Real and his hard body. He remembered how the warrior had held him down and fucked him oh so fucking well.
Azrael groaned and pulled at his cock with his soapy hand.
When Real had snatched him up from the rooftop, Azrael thought he was hallucinating, but the feel of those big, strong arms wasn’t his imagination.
He gasped beneath the warm water, and it took only a minute more to yank one out. He sucked in air, leaning against the wall, before he finished rinsing off.
Real paced.
He froze when the bathroom door opened and Azrael appeared along with a cloud of steam, smelling like shampoo and soap.
The younger man wore a pair of loose sleep shorts with a t-shirt, both black. His freshly washed hair was damp and hung in rivers to the top of his ass.
Real waited for the questions. He waited for the hurt-filled eyes to gaze at him. He waited and he fucking waited but none of that happened.
Azrael walked over to one of the two queen beds, the farthest from him, and slid beneath the covers. Azrael turned on his side with his back to him and pulled the fluffy white comforter up to almost the top of his head.
Well, fuck.
Azrael mostly acted like a damned wild thing, but right now he didn’t even look at him. It was frustrating and pissed him off.
The young man had to be tired, right?
That was what this was.
Okay then, he would let Azrael sleep.
They could talk in the morning. And theywouldtalk in the morning.
Azrael hadn’t even argued about coming back here instead of his previous room.
Real felt as if something was slipping out of his grasp, but chalked that up to the situation.
Right now, though, he had bigger shit to deal with, he thought as he let himself out of the hotel room.
