17
EZRA
The second I’d seen Michael putting the moves on Aaron, I dropped my gym bag and strode over to the counter, no thought for myself, my reputation—nothing but getting that horny bastard to back off.
It felt like some instinctual animal bared its teeth inside my soul, extended claws, ready to fight.
And I couldn’t have stopped myself even if the Holy Spirit suggested it.
Aaron seemed to melt beneath my hand, right up against me as I grasped his hip and pulled him in close.
“Hey, baby.”
I shuddered at Aaron’s murmur, knowing even if I heard those words from his lips ten times a day they wouldn’t grow old.
Michael’s calculating gaze flicked between me and Aaron, his eyebrows lifting. “Thought you were a pastor.”
Well, hell. I could have left that bit out earlier, but too late.
