Honeytrapped

She nodded miserably.

“Right. I’m Calum.”

“Hi, Calum.”

“You came to the class to trap Norman. You’re a honey trap.”

“I suppose.”

“You’re a private detective who didn’t think to ask your client for a photo?”

“Yeah. I’ve learnt from my mistake, thanks. Won’t be doing that again.”

“And what you did to me…you meant to do to Norman?”

“Mmm.” Tilly couldn’t meet his eye. This was altogether too much like being in the headmaster’s office, getting a good telling-off for cheating in the French test.

“So it wasn’t personal? You would have kissed Norman. You would have done all that to him too?”

“Well…I probably wouldn’t have…” I can’t say this!

“You probably wouldn’t have what?”

“Umm…there was kind of…a blurring of borders, maybe…between business and pleasure. So, yeah, thanks for that. It was nice. I really should go now. Bye.” She ran towards the row of pegs on the wall, her sand-coloured special detective trench coat representing freedom and escape.

Her fingers fumbled. Get off the hook, get off! His footsteps, big, loud footsteps, behind her, closing in on her. She plucked the coat off the hook. His hands clapped down on her shoulders and his lips touched her earlobe.

“So you enjoyed your work tonight?” he whispered. “Because I certainly did.”

“Calum…” she breathed. There was nothing else she could say.

“That kiss wasn’t a chore, was it? Hmm?”

She shook her head, feeling his skin brush hers at the side of her neck with each little swivel.

“I thought not. I’d have known if it was one-sided. It takes two to tango, after all.”

She giggled, despite herself. “Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Being so…ohhhhh.” A lip-shaped press of warmth had landed on her neck and one hand had moved down to her hip, pulling her back into his body.

“Being so…what?” One thumb was massaging small circles in the hollow of her nape. His lips fell again, harder this time, with the tiniest little accompanying nip of teeth.

Tilly’s chest began to rise and fall in irregular bursts, her breath halfway between sighs and sobs. “Are you trying to mess me about? Is this a game? Are you trying to get revenge?”

“No, I don’t want revenge,” he murmured, licking the spot beneath her earlobe that always sent a rush of damp heat between her legs. “I just want to carry on where we left off, before you started getting all Cagney and Lacey on me. Don’t you want that?”

She moaned. His right hand was rubbing her hip, causing the horrid spangly dress to rise higher and higher up her thigh.

“You don’t have the right to remain silent, by the way,” he said. “I need an answer. Do you want me?”

“Oh God, what do you think?” She began to grind her bottom against Calum’s strong thighs.

“No!” He patted her hip in reproof. “That won’t do, Detective. Answer the question.”

“I want you,” she said, although the wanton flexibility of her body must have made this abundantly clear by now. “Oh God. I really do.”