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"Am not," I mumble, licking my lips. He smells like brandy and pine needles. The combination is oddly erotic. "I'm normal sized. You're just big."
His lips tip into a wicked smirk, revealing the dimple in his left cheek. "I think we established that last time, princess."
My cheeks flame with embarrassment at the reminder of our last meeting. "We're pretending that didn't happen, remember?"
"We are?" His grin widens.
"Yes, definitely." I bob my head up and down for emphasis. "Never happened."
"Well, princess, my dick is going to be sorely disappointed to hear that you never called him huge," Officer Grumpy says. "Especially since he seems to like you."
"He has good taste. I'm very likable."
"That so?"
I nod again, tugging on my arm to get it back. Does he even remember that he's holding it like I'm a hostage or something?
"Are you going to let me go?" I ask when he tightens his grip instead of releasing me.
"I haven't decided yet."
"Isn't it illegal to hold people hostage?"
"Is it?"
"You should know. You're the detective. By the way, am I supposed to call you Officer Grumpy or Detective Grumpy? I'm not sure which is appropriate."
"You think I'm grumpy?"
"You don't think you're grumpy?" I narrow my eyes on him, highly suspicious that he doesn't know he's grumpy and kind of rude. "You're also kind of rude."
Why does he keep smiling at me like that?
"That why you made me cookies?"
"No," I huff, rolling my eyes at him. "I made you cookies to say sorry for waking you up. And for insulting your parents. And also because being quiet is a lot of work and I'm not very good at it, so these are preemptive strike cookies."
"You've been very quiet the last few days."
"I know!" I beam up at him, rather pleased with myself. And grateful that he noticed my effort because good Lord! That was a lot of work. "See? I'm not a problem at all. You're just grumpy and rude. And you're still holding me hostage."
"Doesn't count," he mutters, narrowing his eyes on me.
"Why not?"
"Because you don't want me to let you go."
"I told you I did."
"You're a terrible liar, princess." He tugs me closer to his big body, reeling me in like I'm a catfish on a hook. "You're all flushed and your heart is racing. I bet your panties are wet too. I think you like being my hostage."
Wow. He's pretty good at this detective stuff. Not that I'm telling him that.
"Do not," I lie. For good measure, I tug on my arm again. Not that it helps or anything. I think he could probably keep me here forever if he wanted to do it. "Hasn't anyone ever told you that steroids will make your um…penis shrink?"
He blinks at me, his mouth popping open. "You think I'm on steroids?"
"Either that or you're the Hulk." I wonder if his penis got bigger when he hulked out or if it's always been that size? I briefly consider asking him and then decide I probably shouldn't. It seems like an awfully personal question.
