Free Slow Burn (MM) by Sam B. Morgan Page A

happen. The shock of want winded Zack. The slightest brush from the tip of his tongue, and he slid his hand around the back of Brody’s neck, thinking of nothing but the pressure of Brody’s lips against his and the shot of desire as he sucked Brody’s bottom lip between his.
    The front of his shirt wound tight before their lips were ripped apart. Brody slid back, looking debauched, thoroughly turned on, and pissed as hell.
    Zack couldn’t get the “Oops?” out of his mouth before he was shoved back a couple of steps.
    Brody stood. He bristled before looking around. “What the fuck was that?”
    Zack opened his mouth to state the obvious, but Brody plowed on, eyes on fire with something far different than passion. “I’m not a fag,” he ground out.
    Zack took another step back. Brody was a lot of things, but he couldn’t possibly be that much of an asshole. Zack was at a loss for words.
    It only seemed to piss Brody off more, glaring hard enough to peel paint. “I said, I’m not gay.”
    “No. You said you’re not a fag.” Zack glared back, wishing he could rage at Brody with everything he had. “You sure about that?” he asked instead.
    He pointed at Zack. “Fuck you.” And with that, Brody was up the stairs and gone.

Chapter Eight
    The knocking started again. What the hell? He could stand there all night and listen to Zack knocking, or he could answer the door. He knew it was Zack; he’d looked through the peephole. What was wrong with a six-foot-one, hundred-and-ninety-five pound, thirty-three-year-old policeman and homicide detective hiding behind a door from his physical therapist?
    Everything. Brody needed his fucking head examined.
    Fuck it.
    “You’re going to wear a hole in the damn door,” he said as he jerked it open.
    “Not if you’d answer it.” Zack stood there, still looking beach swept even twenty-four hours later.
    So Brody snapped, “What do you want?”
    Zack looked at him like he’d asked what planet they were on. “What do you think? I want to talk to you about…you know.” He tilted his head.
    “Nothing to say.” Brody moved to close the door on him.
    Zack put his hand out to hold it open. “Five minutes, that’s all I’m asking.”
    Brody wanted to, but he didn’t close the door.
    “I’m…” Zack paused. “I’m sorry. I was out of line yesterday, both professionally and personally.” He lowered his voice. “I shouldn’t have kissed you.”
    Brody’s neighbor chose that moment to walk out the door with her bag of garbage. She probably hadn’t heard a word, but she smiled at both of them like she knew exactly what was going on. Not that Zack would care. Brody, however, cared very much. He stepped back and waved Zack inside.
    Zack complied and stepped just inside the door, closing it behind him.
    Brody stood there, his back against one wall of the hall foyer, arms crossed over his chest.
    “I shouldn’t have kissed you,” Zack repeated. “But it doesn’t have to mean the end of us training together.”
    Brody didn’t say a word, didn’t move, and he could barely make eye contact. Zack kept talking.
    “I misunderstood or misread…whatever. I don’t know. But now I do know how you feel. It won’t happen again. We’ll just rewind to yesterday afternoon and…pretend nothing happened.”
    Brody’s gaze darted down the hall to the kitchen and back again. Eventually he met Zack’s gaze. “I can’t pretend it didn’t happen.”
    “Yes, you can.” Zack’s brown eyes were big and apologetic. “We go back to training. We run; we do what we’ve been doing for weeks. I made you a promise that I’d get you in shape. We have a business agreement, and I take my work very seriously.”
    “I know that.”
    “So let me finish helping you. It’s just running and weights. We don’t even have to talk. Not a word. Just work.”
    “You?” Brody cocked an eyebrow. “Not talk?” He found it hard to imagine. Zack not being able to talk could easily