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Book reviews. Hand wringing, fretting Mormons who are desperately looking for you? Adoptive parents who never got the chance to bond? He was just some guy who knew about the scene.

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Chase shook his head in disapproval. Bigger than me. Has to know when to take what he wants. Chase cleared his throat for the second time and looked at his watch. There were perks to having both a good memory and working knowledge of the city. But what else was he going to do? It had been three days and the kid was absolutely resistant to getting a job. It painted him as a willful, lazy, pampered brat. Chase sighed heavily, adjusted his tie and jacket and stepped out of the car. The house was modest, but neat. It was a single story with a tawny brick face and two off-set roof peaks.

The lawn was tidy and short and an oak grew in the side yard, its roots creeping out of the top soil in places. He strode up the narrow walkway and knocked firmly on the ash door. He could see why Mandy reminded Felix of her. Chase was startled by the frank question. The door opened wider and a tall man peered back at Chase. He was well-built for his late forties. His hair was a shock of black on pale skin, his temples greying.

Though his eyes were dark, Felix certainly took after his father. Chase cleared his throat awkwardly. He unfortunately ended up party to an investigation. We can do no more for him. The detective looked between them, debating how to proceed. Thompson winced at the word, her fingers finding her necklace in a nervous gesture. Thompson closed her eyes and turned toward her husband. The vat of anger in Chase boiled over. For a moment, the detective cut an imposing, still figure against the pale brick work, his jaw and fists clenched.

The tension eased out of him over a few seconds and he turned abruptly on his heel and back to his car. He knew that look. He could dismiss using religion as an excuse. Could understand being old fashioned. But that look. It was the face of the Ku Klux Klan. The face of Muslim extremists. The face of neonazi fascism.

It was the face that carried a baseball bat in one hand and hatred in the other. Thompson had used both on his son. Chase was at his desk making phone calls well past shift change. Night shift milled around him as if he were a fixture. He had compiled a modest list of employers and programs willing to take on Felix in his particular situation. It was a bitter irony that he would have more options if he were a drug addict or had managed to contract HIV. Mandy tipped her head at him in consideration.

Her expression softened, her head tipped in a motherly fashion. It nearly got you killed. This one is young, vulnerable and not exactly difficult to look at. He scowled, a spike of adrenaline setting his pulse wild. Mandy was the only coworker who knew he was gay. She leaned away. He watched her go, tension easing.

The most annoying part was she was right. He was getting too close to this. He kept bringing the kid food, paying for his hotel room, talking for hours at a time. The tone of the conversations had edged way too close to flirting way too many times. No one would deny that Felix was attractive. His large, muddy-pond eyes were framed with thick black eye lashes. The paleness of his skin offset by full pink lips. He was lean and tone, just enough adolescence in his frame to give him a softness. And God he was vulnerable.


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And the way he kept looking at the detective was far from indifferent. Chase clicked his pen incessantly, a stress twitch setting into his left eye as he stared into space. He needed to let Mandy handle this. He needed distance. He dropped the pen on his desk with a sigh and stood, dragging his jacket with him. The happy puppy look was wreaking havoc on his guilt.

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He had hoped to make it a short conversation at the door, but Felix had already stepped away. Reluctantly he eased the door closed. Felix tipped his head curiously and took it. You met her before. Chase tore his eyes away and went for the door. Felix took a step forward. I just, you know. Chase only stared at him.

The older man turned away. I need to get away from you. Dorian closed his eyes. Something broke in the detective. He felt it go. Every sensible caution, every logical complaint was suddenly absent. What replaced it was primal and overpowering. Raw, burning need tore through Chase and clawed out of his chest in a low growl. There was no resistance. He needed to consume the boy. Own him. He broke from the kiss, hoping to regain some control. Throbbing, desperate heat shot straight to his loins. The obscenity of the command rippled another wave of desire through him and Felix moved to comply immediately.

It was too much, too fast. He was spilling over too soon, but every moment was bliss. His legs were shaky when the stars finally cleared from his vision. As the haze of desire lifted, reason and regret took its place. He tucked himself back in his pants and zipped up. Felix fumbled to his feet.

Before he could form a coherent sentence, Dorian closed the distance to the door and swiftly strode down the hall. What was he thinking? He chastised himself all the way down the stairwell. He was fifteen years older. He could technically have kids his age. Chase shook the thought away. He was in a position of authority. He clearly took advantage. But he clearly wanted him to. He was practically begging. He was a kid! Dorian wrestled internally the whole drive home. Were he honest with himself, the thought of a young, submissive thing like Felix handing himself over on a platter would be like Christmas and his birthday all in one.

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It was his age and the ethics of their relationship that was the problem. Dorian parked in the driveway of his duplex. His head leaned back and eyes closed. He needed to shake this. It was on Mandy now. He needed to forget it ever happened. Forget Felix. Forget his tight lips.

His hot tongue. There was a sharp rapping on the passenger side window. She flapped her wrist at him when he got out. You work too hard! He smiled awkwardly, making sure she could clearly see his face. Long day. He sighed and went to his own door. Once inside, he flipped on the living room light and the gleam shone off of the one hundred gallon fish tank in the center of the room.

He watched fish. And he had over a dozen. He peeled off his jacket and his shoulder holster and inspected the tank. A pair of cichlids peeked out of a tipped ceramic planter.

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The redtail sharks were the first to dart up to the surface when he dumped in a scoop of mixed fish food. The spotted pictus bade his time in the gravel, watching bits of detritus descend from the frenzy. He watched the fish for some time before checking the pump and gauges. It would be time to cycle the water soon. Satisfied with the tank, he started unbuttoning his shirt and heading for the laundry room in the basement.

The bulk of the space was taken up by a huge chain link dog kennel, the aluminum posts set into the concrete. The original owner had bred hunting dogs. In the worst weather, they were brought in to the climate controlled basement.

Chase had found bedding hay in odd places for months. Now Belinda Fairfax owned the building. She rented out the left half and lived in the right. Dorian pulled his badge from his belt and was unzipping his pants when the image of Felix on his knees in front of him wormed back into his mind. He grumbled and stripped all of his clothes into the washer before heading back upstairs to the shower.

He worked his thumb in lazy circles around the head. His eyes closed in concentration. Was he a virgin? Surely not. Not with a mouth like that. Felix was untouchable. Too young. But in the safety of his imagination, the pale submissive boy was stripped bare. On his knees. Face on the floor. Moaning as Dorian rode him hard. Curnelle Hercules: I didn't really choose this book out right. It was one of the many recommended after reading another book.

I was curious. I like it very much. Simply lovely! Angela Johnson: This story has me laughing from the first paragraph. It's intriguing,interesting and intensely entertaining. Parebant: This story is a real goodie for me in that it provides an adequate sex:plot ratio. The sex scenes make sense within the plot and the descriptions aren't too graphic nor too vague. They are also anatomically correct as far as I could tell, which on a platform like Inkitt, is more than I could have Knox is a very weird name. Anyways i like potatoes and tomatoes.

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Add to Reading List Reading List. The detective clicked his pen a few times. Everyone has a nervous tick. Felix had a nervous shrug. Launch a twink underground railroad? Felix gulped and sat up straight. The pale kid with the black hair is our caller. The poor kid must be terrified. You called him a hooker?!

What is wrong with you? I asked if he was a hooker. He could at least still bring the kid something to eat. She frowned and pressed the file into his chest. I gotta see this. Chase licked his lips, his mouth suddenly dry. Chase lifted the bag up in offering when Felix opened the hotel room door. She nodded thoughtfully. The pale boy yawned openly. I always come prepared not to be surprised. I stayed in my room most of the night.

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He nodded slightly to himself. He leaned slightly to look Chase over. Felix made a show of looking him over again. Felix leaned to look at the list with a frown. The detective looked away with a cough. Chase tipped his head slightly. Thompson cut in abruptly. Felix had nowhere to go. Time to cut the cord. For everything, you know? His— There was a sharp rapping on the passenger side window.

The cold water did nothing for the heat pooling in his loins. Chapters 1. Chapter 1. Further Recommendations. Nada Dlf: The book is an interesting read so far.