I woke at seven, my usual time. For a second I didn’t recognize the room, then the smells reminded me—the odor of greasy food, beer, and Conrad. A narrow shaft of pale sunlight shone into the room and Conrad stirred, then turned away from me. His broad back was smooth-skinned, a rich caramel color that was unblemished and it looked delectable.
Before this—before Conrad—looking at other men had meant something completely different than what I was feeling now. It meant sizing them up. Sweeping over a silhouette for a concealed weapon, gauging height and weight for a report later, analyzing someone’s bulk to make sure I could take a suspect down without getting hurt myself. And sure, I looked over other guys like all men did, just that quick review to reassure myself I was bigger, stronger.
