Page 7 of Beauty and the Cop
"Speak for yourself, Kirk." She plants a hand on her hip, her eyes narrowing at me. "I'm a proud nerd, thank you very much."
She's the sexiest fucking nerd I've ever met. Christ, she's growing more fascinating by the minute.
"Are you hungry?"
I blink at her. "What?"
"Are you hungry?"
Fuck yes. Starving, actually. Mind bending over the sofa so I can eat you, Dimples?
"What?" I mumble.
"Food, Noah." Her lips curve into a smile. "Do you want something to eat? And by something, I mean lasagna."
Of course she isn't offering herself up on a silver platter, you jackass.
"Oh, uh…" I trail off, nodding lamely.
She beams at me, flashing that dimple again. "I'll make plates while you call your partner."
She scurries into the dining room, leaving me staring after her.
"Jesus Christ," I mutter when she vanishes into the kitchen. I discreetly adjust my cock, squeezing the hard bastard like that'll get him under control again. It doesn't work, so I give it up as a lost cause and text Jackson.
Me: I locked myself out. Can you swing by with the spare key?
Jackson: Uh, who the fuck is this?
"Shit," I growl, shaking my head.
Me: Noah. I had to borrow my neighbor's phone.
Jackson: Your hot neighbor?
Me: You're an idiot. Bring my key.
Jackson: Fine. Give me an hour.
I hesitate for a long moment and then quickly type out another text.
Me: Make it two.
He immediately sends back the crying laughing emoji before I delete the whole conversation so there's no evidence. What? I'm a cop, and I'm not trying to get my ass kicked here. I'm just making the most of my time with Elsie.
Satisfied that she's stuck with me for at least a little while, I start to set her phone down, and then quickly think better of it. I take a second to program my number into her phone and then call my cell so I have her number. Diabolical? Perhaps. But she didn't tell me not to do it, so there's that.
Pleased with myself, I set the phone back where she got it and then stroll through the dining room into the kitchen, only to stop in the doorway to watch her. She moves around the kitchen effortlessly, humming to herself as she plates lasagna and then adds chunks of freshly baked bread to each.
"Oh!" She startles when she turns and sees me standing there. "Jesus, you're like a freaking ninja."
"You looked like you were having fun. I didn't want to interrupt." I flash a grin at her. "Were you humming Tupac?"
"What? No?" She scrunches her nose up at me. "Worry about yourself, Officer."
"Detective."
"What?"
