Deathwatch
“She was in the kitchen, quietly making coffee, getting ready for work. White top, short tan skirt, plain white sneakers on her feet.
Those endless legs were going to do him in. His fingertips itched to stroke the length of them, to caress the soft spot behind her knee. His fingers would pave the way for his lips…. He looked away from her, up at the ceiling.
“Hey,” she said softly from behind the counter. “How do you feel this morning?” “Fine,” he barked the single word, mad at himself for touching her in the middle of the night, for having dreamt of her then continuing that fantasy when he’d come awake. She deserved better than him gawking at her and being dragged into his dirty fantasies. “Any more bad dreams?” Jesus. He didn’t need to be checked up on. He didn’t need a nursemaid in the night either. There was nothing wrong with him some hard workout wouldn’t cure. He was going to hit the gym at the police station until he was fit enough to pass his physical.
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