by Jo Leigh
Liam had stepped outside, taking a rare lunch break away from his desk. He needed the walk in the bracing cold, partly to wake him up, but more to help him stop thinking about Aubrey and last night. At the door of Ray’s Pizza, he found his cell in his hands, his thumbs already fast at work.
Are you inspired?
Before he could think it through, he’d hit Send.
Then he put his phone away, feeling a little stupid and a little hopeful, and ordered a slice of pepperoni from the street window. Three office workers were standing nearby, wolfing down slices from their paper plates. His slice arrived in under a minute and his phone sounded shortly after.
Not yet. Evidently, we need to build critical mass.
He’d just gotten to the crust, and now he shoved too much of it into his mouth and tossed the paper plate in a nearby trash can.
Where? When?
This time, he didn’t put the phone in his pocket. Or start walking, or go back and order another piece of pizza, which he’d planned on doing. Instead, he stood there, staring at his smartphone in the middle of 7th Avenue, waiting for her text like an eager teenager. He tried out the idea that he was only interested in getting the trading card back, but even in his state of exhaustion, it didn’t fly for a second.
The ding preceded a map. The address Broadway and West 80th. Underneath that, she’d written, Le Muse, 9:00?
Yes.
He hit Send and started a quick march back to the precinct, wishing he could hurry the clock.
“Aubrey, cut it out. There are people right outside.”
“And there’s a lock on the door between them and us, so…” She went back to unbuttoning Liam’s shirt.
He put his hand over hers. “Let’s go. We can catch a cab and be at my place in no time.”
She sighed as she looked into his gorgeous eyes. “You’re not thinking this through. I have all my art supplies right here. If it bothers you so much, we don’t have to do anything. You being naked should be enough to get my creative juices flowing.”
He looked at her with both eyebrows raised and his lips parted. He added a small exasperated huff, which made her more determined than ever. The only things missing from his nonverbal statement were fisted hands on his hips. God, he was adorable.
“I’m an NYPD detective. I’m not stripping naked in a storeroom on Broadway. Anyone could come in.”
“Not anyone. Only four of us have keys.”
“That’s three too many.”
She moved closer to him. Pressed into him. Felt his thickening cock through her skirt. “What if I told you that the other three people weren’t on the premises?”
“It would have been a lot simpler if you’d told me your plans. We could have met after hours. Not that I’d have taken off my clothes, but I’d have helped you carry your supplies to the privacy of my apartment.”
Pulsing against him with a steadily increasing beat, she licked her lips while staring at him through her lashes. “I understand you’ve never been a muse before, but one of your responsibilities is to honor my process. My process involves drawing your extraordinary body, which will not only give me a dopamine high, it’ll put me in a relaxed state, and distract me enough to spark my creativity and let the ideas flow.”
“My process is not to get arrested for indecent exposure. And excuse me,” he said, although his voice lowered every time she thrust against his cock, “but you’ve never had a muse before. No one has, because they’re mythological.”
She shook her head, finally sneaking her hands from his grip. “First of all, physiological responses are science, Liam. You can look it up. Also, you hadn’t planned on taking me home last night. Look how well that turned out.”
“Yes, you’re right. It was off-the-charts great. Except that every man and woman in my department, including my boss, was all over my ass about being late. We had a major bust yesterday, and I was the lead detective. Then I came to work after, what, two hours of sleep? I was unprofessional and irresponsible. I can’t do that again. I won’t.”
That stopped her for a moment. His demeanor had changed during that impassioned speech. She’d already guessed he took his job seriously, but she hadn’t considered the implications of their arrangement on his career. Still, she wasn’t the only one who needed a change in her routine. Liam may have a cool facade, but for the half hour since he’d arrived at Le Muse he’d been flexing his jaw, furrowing his brow. Even his kisses had been different. Distant somehow.
“Oh, my lovely muse, now I see my instincts were completely on target. You need to be distracted just as badly as I do.” Both of her hands went to his delicious ass. She gripped it and pulled him toward her, closing the space between them. “There’s so much I want to do to you,” she said, lowering her voice. “One decent idea on paper and then we’ll take full advantage of your state of undress.”
Liam’s eyes closed and he rolled his head back with a moan that sounded like giving in. At least she hoped so.
After two shakes of his head, he met her gaze again. “You’re impossible. I want you, but I can’t do it here.”
She wasn’t going to give up yet. She still had a few surprises up her sleeve. Or thereabouts. Letting him go, she stepped far enough away that they weren’t touching at all.
His hiss of disapproval made her want to smile, but she held it together. “First of all, it’s only nine-thirty.”
One of his hands moved toward his cock, but he stopped himself. “So?”
“The three other people who have keys aren’t here anymore. In fact, we’re the only people left in the building.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I work here most nights, specifically because I know I’ll be alone. If you want, we can take a quick walk around to double check, but the only person who ever stays this late is Yvonne, and she’s at a party in Long Island.”
“She could come back.”
“In theory, yes. But she won’t. She’s wooing connections for the Christmas sale.”
Again, he huffed, but she made her second point before he could speak. A visual point. One she could hardly believe she was willing to make, but she hadn’t been kidding about needing inspiration. Turning so her back was to him, she began to lift her skirt up. It was a hunter-green, knee-length pencil, and it took a while to inch up.
Behind her, his breath got louder.
She hadn’t planned to use this maneuver to manipulate him, but he’d left her no choice. She’d selected her wardrobe carefully based on the wild hope he’d be in touch. Her heart hadn’t stopped pounding since she got his text.
When her skirt was midthigh, she paused. He made a sound. A half gasp, half choke? It was tempting to make him wait, but she didn’t want to. She just kept scrunching up the thick material until he could see the tops of her black stockings, held up by the metal clips of her garter belt.
This time, she was absolutely sure what his moan was about.
The damn pink ruffles on her garter belt had done him in. His own fault. He’d showed his hand last night when he’d asked her to turn around. She was a dangerous woman, and he’d better get his act together because now he was on the floor of the storeroom, his back sticking to sheets of drawing paper while Aubrey rode him like a mechanical bull.
He was loving every second of it.
She’d kept the stockings and the garter belt, ditched the blouse and her shoes. He shouldn’t have been surprised to find she hadn’t bothered with the more traditional panties and bra.
The minute he’d seen those frills over her ass, he’d stripped so fast he’d crashed into a shelf full of boxes. He’d been naked, condom in place on his very hard cock, before the bottom of her skirt had reached her waist.
He pushed his hips up to meet her, but she stopped her bucking. He lifted his head, stared at her flushed face, her messy curls and her wild eyes. “God, don’t stop. Why are you stopping?”
She didn’t answer him. Instead, she leaned to her right and came
off her knee, putting her left foot flat on the floor. Then she leaned the other way, and repeated the process.
He was going to hyperventilate. Maybe have a stroke. That’d look good in the papers. At least he’d be known for something besides that Ridiculous meme.
Her left hand went to his chest and the other to her pussy. Then she moved. Up and down and…oh, fuck, she squeezed her muscles the whole time.
His eyes rolled back in his head, and he couldn’t stop the noises that were coming out of his mouth. She’d better be right about no one being there, because he was loud.
He held on as long as he could, but he wasn’t superhuman. His hips lifted her until she lost contact with his chest and he came until he got dizzy. Before he could catch his breath, she was trembling, her neck arched, her moist lips parted. Now it was her that was loud. The way she groaned and trembled through her climax was so erotic he wished like hell he could get hard again. But when she slipped her fingers from between them and lowered herself to lie on top of him, it was enough.
Too wasted to try to talk, he used the only strength he had left to rub his hand down her back. She kissed the side of his jaw, messy and wet, then she gave it up and let her head rest on his shoulder. With each breath her still-hard nipples poked him and the ruffles on her garter belt scratched his pelvis. It was incredible.
She was incredible.
Thankfully, they still had almost three weeks until Christmas Eve Eve.
Chapter Six
Halfway up the washed-out concrete steps of the 18th Precinct, Aubrey slowed as she looked at the green doors. She’d been on a tear since she’d gotten Liam’s text to meet him for lunch. Sanjula had been with her at Le Muse, and she’d been the one who put the idea into Aubrey’s head.
“Don’t meet him at the restaurant. Surprise him at the station,” she’d said. “It’ll be fun,” she’d said. “He’ll think you’re so hot, he’ll probably take you into a broom closet and do you right there!”
Aubrey had enthusiastically agreed. Still, now that she was seconds away from walking inside the Midtown North police station, she wasn’t quite so certain that this was such a brilliant idea. Then again, Liam had told her she could come by.
She’d been asking to see where he worked for the past ten days. The fact that she kept asking—mostly during incredibly inventive sex—was a testament to her determination, and might have had something to do with him finally giving in.
She looked down at her outfit. It was amazing, if she did say so herself. A black Burberry trench coat, knee length and self-belted with a popped collar that made her feel like a million bucks. The fact that it was borrowed from Sanjula’s friend Wendy added to the allure. Wendy was an actual model. The knee-high boots with the five-inch heels were Aubrey’s, a great knockoff of a knockoff of Jimmy Choos. Not made of real leather, although they could pass. When it was overcast.
None of which was a problem. What she wore under the coat might be. She wasn’t wearing much, but what she did have on was fantastic. She’d borrowed a black Mercy corset that was heavily boned and had panels of stretchy embroidery. It even laced up the back, so he could have fun freeing her, and she’d bought a black Mercy thong to go with. So what if she wouldn’t be able to take a deep breath for the next however long? It would be worth it.
Not that anyone at the station would know. It wasn’t as if she planned on flashing the bull pen. She wasn’t insane. But, come on, the danger of walking into the NYPD in almost nothing but a coat and boots was off-the-charts exciting. She’d been all worked up just sitting in the cab.
Regardless, Liam was very serious about his job. He should be. He was a very important detective who’d been responsible for a major bust. While he’d told her a little bit about what he did, he was very modest. She’d read several articles in the New York Times that talked about the money-laundering cartel, and they’d mentioned his name in all of them. One day, he’d probably be Commissioner Gordon, uh, Flynn. She, for one, felt infinitely safer living in Manhattan with Liam on the job.
But sometimes a guy needed a little jalapeño to go with his by-the-book sandwich.
Taking a deep breath, she decided to be the chili pepper for her muse. There was no law against her inspiring him. So far, he’d inspired her so much she had too many ideas to choose from. Yvonne wasn’t completely freaking out anymore. In fact, her boss was enthusiastic about several of Aubrey’s concepts, even though Aubrey herself knew she hadn’t hit the mark. Yet. The clock was ticking, though, so she needed every bit of muse action possible. Hence, the outfit.
Best-case scenario? She and Liam would skip lunch and find a place for a quickie. Second best? She’d meet him at his apartment the minute he was off work.
A wolf whistle from a passing bike messenger hurried her step and soon she was inside the building.
Worst case? She wouldn’t tell him she was almost naked under the coat.
The assistant district attorney’s call was already forty minutes late, but it wasn’t Shawna Vance on the line when Liam answered his phone. It was the desk sergeant. Aubrey Hayes was asking to see Liam. He nearly dropped the receiver but he saw line two blinking so instead he quickly told the sergeant to send Aubrey down and answered the other line. Naturally it was the ADA, who was still holding him hostage on the phone as Aubrey stepped out of the elevator into the bull pen.
He motioned for her to come to his desk while trying to keep track of the conversation with Vance. Not easy, especially because, well, Aubrey. Finally they hung up. “You’re here.”
“I know,” she said, her smile dimming. “I hope it’s okay.”
“Oh,” he said. “It’s fine. It’s great. I thought we were meeting at the restaurant, that’s all.”
“I should leave,” she said, turning back toward the elevator. “I’m sorry I bothered you.”
He took hold of her arm. “No, no. It really is fine that you’re here. That call was almost an hour late and…anyway, I’m starving, so this is great timing. Hold on a minute, I’ll get my coat and we can get out of here.”
“Sure, okay. I was hoping to get a little tour, but if you’re hungry, we should go,” she said, looking around. The station could have passed for a paper company in Scranton if not for the Wanted posters on the back wall.
Well, hell. He was being a dick when all she’d wanted was to see where he worked. “I told you there wasn’t anything interesting to see.”
“There are lots of men in suits.”
“That’s true. But the boss is a woman and so are three of our detectives.”
“Out of how many?”
He narrowed his gaze at her. “Why are you trying to distract me with feminism? You already know I’m an advocate. I’d ask what you have up your sleeve but,” he said, lowering his voice, “I’m guessing the answer is nothing.”
She looked impressed. For a second. Then she narrowed her gaze right back. “You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do.”
“You don’t. But I’ll let it go this time because it’s pretty clear that some of your coworkers are intrigued by my presence.”
He didn’t need to turn around to know that she’d caused some stares. Of course she had. She looked hot enough to melt all the slush in the city. And damn, he was positive she was naked under that coat. Whether it made him an ass or not, he was getting her out of here. Now.
“Do you want me to pretend to be a witness? Or an informant?” she whispered, leaning close to him, which only made things worse. “I can do that. I’d be a really good informant. I’ve seen every episode of The Wire.”
“No, no need. We’re leaving. Besides, everyone here knows how to mind their own business. All I need to do is turn off my computer, and then we’re going to lunch,” he said, rounding his desk.
Before they could make a clean getaway, Tony Ricci had crossed the room and stopped right in front of Aubrey. “So you’re friends with Ridiculous, huh?”
Goddamn son of a bitch, this was why h
e’d said no all those times. She didn’t know about the meme. Didn’t pay that much attention to social media. It was one of the best parts of this thing between them.
“Ridiculous?” she asked, looking at Liam, then back to Tony.
“It’s nothing,” Liam said, purposefully moving between her and Ricci.
“What, you never heard about the Ridiculously Good-Looking Cop? I thought everybody in New York had seen him on the internet.”
“Ignore him.” Liam took her arm again, started walking. “He’s a jerk. Come on, let’s go.”
“Oh, yeah,” Ricci said, as if Liam wasn’t even there. “Everyone knows about Ridiculous. He’s the poster boy for the whole department. We use him to distract the ladies when we’re doing real detective work.”
Aubrey tugged at Liam’s grip, turning her head to look at Ricci. “What did you say?”
Ricci folded his arms across his pumped-up chest. “While we’re out there talking to addicts and bums, he’s surrounded by females. Ain’t that right, Ridiculous?”
“Hey.” Aubrey pulled out of Liam’s hold and faced Ricci. “From what I’ve read and seen on the news, Detective Flynn was responsible for taking down a major money-laundering scheme with no loss of life. And he’s only been a detective less than a year. How do you not know this?”
Ricci looked stunned and just laughed.
“Come on, Aubrey.” Liam rubbed her arm. Man, was she angry. He could see the fire in her eyes. “Let’s go.”
She wouldn’t back down. “I also happen to know he distinguished himself during his tenure at the 44th Precinct, according to his commendations. So what, precisely, makes him anything less than a real detective?”
Ricci’s hands went up, and so did his overgrown eyebrows. “Hey, whoa. I was just joking around. Ridiculous is a great guy, come on.”
