“You’re up early,” she mumbled, her eyes closing once again.
“I’m actually up late,” I admitted. “I skipped my workout, which would’ve usually had me up an hour and a half ago.”
She mumbled something under her breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘that’s nuts.’
Grinning, I went to the bathroom and took care of business, grumbling to myself when I realized that I didn’t bring my deodorant over.
Spotting Hastings’ that was on the counter next to the sink—and the spare toothbrush I’d stolen last night—I swiped it on and then inhaled deeply.
Yep, that was the smell that had driven me nuts over the last months.
Finishing up with washing my hands, I came back out of the bathroom to find the bed empty.
Slipping on my pants and uniform jacket—the rest of my gear was at the station—I found my socks and shoes and then walked out into the main room to find it empty.
Backing up, I glanced in her office to see her writing away on her computer.
I watched her for a few long moments, her face a mask of concentration as she put her words into the computer. Her fingers were flying a hundred miles an hour, and the little quirk of her lips as she smiled at her computer screen made me curious to know what she was writing.
“What are you writing?” I asked.
She froze mid-keystroke and looked at me over her shoulder.
“I’m writing about my hero.” She paused. “You.”
I blinked. “You’re writing about me?”
She shrugged her shoulder, which brought my attention to the t-shirt she was wearing.
Mine.
The one that I’d been in the night before.
And she wasn’t wearing anything else beneath it, causing her breasts to shift underneath the soft fabric.
“When I opened my eyes this morning, you were standing there in front of the window. The morning sun was pouring in all around you, and I’d never seen anything sexier in my life.” She paused. “So I came to write about it.”
I looked at the chair that was beside her.
It was old. The leather was cracked on the arms, and the cushion looked like it’d seen better days.
Deciding to give it a try, I walked to it and sat down gingerly, pleasantly surprised when it bore my weight.
Then I went about putting on my socks and boots before I could delay no longer.
“I have to go,” I grumbled as I stood up.
Walking over to the chair, I pulled her chair that she was sitting cross-legged in and bent over her, using the arms on either sides of her waist as support.
She watched me come with a gleam in her eyes.
“I want to go to your doctor appointment,” I said. “The next one that you go to, can you try to make it on a Tuesday, Wednesday, or the evening on Friday?”
She tilted her head back as far as the chair behind her head would allow her to go before saying, “I’ll call and change my appointment. I had one for next week on Monday.”
I dropped my lips down onto hers and said, “I can make that one. I’ll just have to switch with Louis. He won’t mind.”
“Louis?” she asked, sounding cutely confused.
“Louis. Louie. He’s my cousin. He lives three duplexes down and is married to Calloway,” I explained.
Understanding dawned. “I know Calloway. Actually, I know most of the women. It’s the men that I don’t do well around, so I avoid them.”
I pressed one more kiss onto her mouth and said, “You can keep doing that. I don’t mind.”
She slapped me on the thigh. “Go before I never let you leave.”
“That sounds awful,” I teased. “Like something that would drive me insane. Being stuck with you all day, every day?”
She pinched me this time. “Get out of here, Sammy. Let me write about you.”
With one last kiss, I reluctantly pulled myself away and stood up.
“Have a good day.” I paused. “And if you ever need to do any book research, I’m your man.”
She gave me a smile that would’ve brought me to my knees if I wasn’t late for work.
“Take care of yourself, Mr. SWAT man. Don’t go to Walgreens if you can help it,” she teased. “Pew, pew, pew.”
My laughter was still on my lips as I opened the front door and closed it behind me.
It was only as I was two steps in the direction of my bike that I realized I should’ve locked it.
I looked up at the cameras and pulled out my phone.
It rang once before she answered. “Why are you standing there like that?”
“You need to lock yourself inside,” I ordered.
She snorted. “I’m in cop row, silly. And I have cameras. Nothing will happen here.”
I didn’t care.
“I would feel better about leaving,” I said. “Please, for me?”
She sighed and I heard her get up. Seconds later the door opened, she offered me a mock glare, and then she reclosed it.