Total pages in book: 83
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 82187 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 411(@200wpm)___ 329(@250wpm)___ 274(@300wpm)
Joshi…Kiran.
All Vasquez could do was stare.
Joshi wore fitted black slacks, and a navy-blue Henley with the sleeves pushed up, showing off his toned forearms.
Two jade, beaded bracelets were on his left wrist and a graphite smartwatch clasped around the right one.
His dark curls were loose, brushing the tops of his cheeks. There was a softness to him tonight, something tender but still well put-together.
It was as if he didn’t have to work to be handsome. It just happened to him. Confidence without arrogance.
He smiled in his direction—bright, real, and inviting—making Vasquez glance over his shoulder.
“Yeah.” Joshi chuckled. “I’m talking to you, Ramon.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
His name leaving those full lips shouldn’t sound so good.
Joshi had a voice as sexy as a midnight whisper and accented as if he’d grown up somewhere coastal and warm.
“I was hoping you’d show. I made too much food again.”
Vasquez cocked his head like a confused puppy.
“I’m not about to eat all this alone while you eat an assembly line-made sandwich,” he said, reaching into his bag and pulling out several plastic containers.
“The ham and cheese tastes better than it looks.”
Joshi smiled again. “But I’m sure it won’t taste better than this.”
The scent hit him right in the gut—beef, garlic, and something faintly sweet that made his stomach growl.
“It, um…it does smell pretty good,” Vasquez murmured.
“Then sit. Take a load off.”
He hesitated because this felt like a trap. It had to be.
But Joshi held his eye contact as he waited for him to sit down.
So he did.
Joshi slid his portion towards him and they both began eating in silence.
Vasquez enjoyed the quiet company, it meant he could focus on the simple miracle of having a real meal, not one he pulled through a drive-thru window or dropped into a tray by a vending machine claw.
It was hot, seasoned, made by Joshi’s own hands, and Vasquez savored it from the first bite.
He didn’t realize how fast he’d been eating until the fork scraped the bottom.
He glanced up and his face heated fiercely, unsure how long Joshi had been watching him damn near eat the container as well.
“So, how’s your evening going?”
He finished chewing, then grinned like a wolf who’d caught the scent of blood. “I caught a married guy cheating on his husband tonight.”
Joshi frowned. “That’s too bad. I’m sure there’s no pain that hurts like that.”
“Perhaps. It’s a real high-profile officer too. If I were a petty man—”
“Which you are not, right?” Joshi cut in, a bit of edge to his tone.
Vasquez shrugged.
Joshi cocked his head. “So what’re you gonna do?”
He thought about for a few seconds before he answered, “I was thinking about leaking it. Maybe show those guys what it feels like to be humiliated.”
Joshi narrowed his sharp eyes before he set his fork down.
“You ever think maybe they don’t need to be humiliated?” Joshi asked. “That maybe the couple is already hurting enough. And just maybe the person who tells them should be…I don’t know, compassionate?”
Vasquez opened his mouth, but Joshi wasn’t finished.
“I like a man who’s empathetic. One who doesn’t need to tear someone else down to feel better himself. Pettiness and cruelty are very unattractive qualities to me.”
Joshi hadn’t said it spitefully, and it didn’t sound like a reprimand. Just his truth, and the words landed harder than anything God or his men had ever said to him, because it came from someone he didn’t want to hate him.
They sat in silence for a while as Vasquez digested his food and what he’d just heard.
Then Joshi’s smile was back. “I’m glad you liked the food.”
“Yeah,” Vasquez said, voice low and thoughtful. “Thank you. It was really good.”
“Maybe next time I’ll cook for you at my place.”
His stomach dropped. There was no way he heard that right.
“What’d you say?”
Joshi leaned in, and it was as though the breakroom shrank into the only place in the world.
Vasquez didn’t move. He couldn’t if he’d wanted to.
Joshi’s gaze traveled across his face, not hungrily, but with a kind of intrigued curiosity. A study. As if he were trying to see beneath his surface. Beyond the attitude, the ego, the wall of armor he’d lived behind for so long he wasn’t sure where it ended and he began.
Joshi lifted his hand, slow and deliberate, as though he was about to handle something fragile. His fingers hovered, pausing, waiting—
Then he touched him.
Vasquez flinched—but didn’t jerk away.
Knuckles brushed the stubble of his jaw, a soft drag of skin against rough skin. Unhurried. Gentle. Almost reverent.
His breath caught in his throat as his eyelids slid closed, instinct taking over before his pride could stop it.
He soaked up the contact like scorched earth under rain.
No one touched him like that. No one touched him period.
For a moment, Joshi didn’t move.
His hand lingered there, his body still leaned in close enough that Vasquez could smell the faint traces of sandalwood near his throat and cardamom on his breath. Could feel the heat radiating from him.