Once a cop, always a cop. And there’s no real punching out at the end of the day.
It’s what you are inside.
Frank’s temper and the flashing light of his unmarked car get us to my building in record time.
“I’ll keep you posted, Harry. Just return the favor, huh?” he finally agrees, creasing the edge of his mouth. His second Frank-sized, near enough to an apology of the day.
I’m impressed.
“You know I will,” I reply instantly.
Well. I’ll keep him posted on the case… If I have any other insights. But I won’t be telling him anything about what I really have planned for Megan.
Not just yet anyway, even though he’s slotted most of it together in his mind already.
Frank’s a grouch, sure. But he’s a damned good detective.
Trying to keep something like I’m feeling for Megan from him is like trying to tell a fish he can’t breathe underwater.
And by the time we’re alone in the elevator of my building, I’m thinking maybe Megan’s figured out for herself that old Harry Holmes is interested in a little more than just keeping an eye on her too.
“Your girlfriend won’t mind?” she asks, catching me off guard.
I crease my brow, not liking the question unless she’s the girlfriend part.
“I mean….,” Megan continues, leaning back against the brass rail of the elevator. Her ample chest proudly shifts under her blouse, making me swallow hard.
Making my hard-on, I somehow managed to keep to myself start to twitch and spasm in my pants.
“…Bringing a younger girl home with you… Isn’t that kinda against the rules?” she asks innocently, but I can see what she’s doing.
And it’s fucking working.
“I could ask the same about your boyfriend,” I reply, feigning disinterest, but my eyes are glued to her chest and the leaning tower of penis she can see plain as day if she looks into the mirrored walls of the elevator shows her I’m fucking far from disinterested.
Struggling to breathe without being able to tell her I need to fuck her so bad… It might even hurt us both a little.
But in a good way.
My witty comeback pitches wide, and her face falls as fast as her arms move to hug her chest. Pretending to shiver with a chill from this constant A/C that everyone has running on blizzard setting today.
But I can tell I’ve hit a raw nerve without meaning to.
“I don’t have a girlfriend, Megan,” I tell her plainly. Holding out both my hands for her to see.
No ring. Nothing.
“…Or a wife, or significant other… I don’t even have a houseplant. Okay?” I hear myself say a little too firmly.
Figuring I only just made a bad situation worse.
But when I see her eyes find her new favorite landmark in the mirrors. That coy little smile that plays on her lips as she looks up at me again with dreamy eyes tells me she’s enjoying the view.
“Me neither,” she whispers. Giving me a knowing look that someone so young probably shouldn’t have.
The eyes of someone who knows all about loneliness and hurt. But also the eyes of someone who’s staring the answer right in the face.
The elevator pings and the doors swoosh open. I usher her towards the door, carrying all our luggage.