“Thank you,” I groan, trying to breathe through one nostril.
“You can hang up the phone now.”
“I would, but my hands are tied. Literally,” I reply.
“Oh, right,” she murmurs, clearing her throat. “Well, I will do it on my end then. If you need anything else, just call.”
As my lips part, the conversation is cut off.
“Just call,” I repeat, rolling my eyes.
Like it didn’t just cost me my entire reserve of energy to hop this goddamn chair over to my phone and swipe it into call mode with my nose.
I take another deep breath while trying to adjust my face, but I’m painfully aware of my junk flopping about freely through my zipped-open pants. I can’t do shit about it, and once that cop comes into my apartment, he’s going to have a field day, I’m sure.
Guess I’ll just have to suck it up.
After a good fifteen minutes,someone knocks on my door. “Mr. Foley? Are you there? You called us for help.”
“Yes!” I yell back as best I can.
“Can you open the door for me?”
“No, if I could, I wouldn’t have called!” I scoff. “I’m fucking tied to a chair.”
“Oh shit.” It’s quiet for a few seconds, then there’s rustling at the front door. “I’ll use a lockpick. Hold on.”
I breathe out another impatient sigh.
CLICK.
My door creaks open, and I turn my head as far as I can so at least one eye can catch a sliver of my entryway. He drops his bag and stares at me for a good five seconds, and the moment our eyes lock, my whole face turns beet red.
“Oh my God …” he mutters. “You’re naked.”
“No shit. Stop gawking at me and help me.”
I wriggle back and forth in the zip ties.
“Right, sorry,” Jones mutters, and he picks up his bag again.
He approaches and goes down on his knees beside me, rummaging through his bag until he finds a pair of scissors strong enough to cut through them.
The moment my hands are freed, I immediately push myself off the floor, tuck my junk back into my pants, and zip up. Officer Jones looks me up and down with a grimace on his face.
The embarrassment.
“I won’t ask how that happened,” he mumbles.
“She caught me off guard while I was getting undressed,” I lie, as I pick my phone off the floor.
“She?” he repeats.
I glance at him over my shoulder. “My stalker.”
He gulps. “Oh shit.”
My nostrils flare as I go through the movements of retracing her steps, starting with the fluids still stuck to my table. I swipe my thumb along and smell, the scent creating a hard-on once again, but I ignore the sensations.
