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“Beckham, what, uhm, are you up to tomorrow? Like, besides working I guess. You work often? This must be a really difficult job, I can’t even imagine where you’d start. Guess that’s why you’re the detective and I’m just the vet student, huh? But if you ever need a fecal sample analyzed—not yours, obviously, but your dog’s—do you have a dog? Shit, okay, I’m talking way too much about shit. Literally shit… shit. I should, uh, get going.” I had forgotten my original question, and my cheeks were blazing hot. Beckham’s smile threw me off, and his smile seemed to be growing wider. The green-and-gold eyes were frying all my circuit boards.
For a brief and terribly frightening moment, I thought I recognized a flash of hesitation in Beckham’s expression. “I’m free tomorrow afternoon.” He chuckled, the sound instantly throwing me back to the night we met. Our walk along the River Thames was magical, and even despite my anxiety attack, the entire night could be described the same way. I could still remember Beckham’s apartment, his smell, the way he felt when his hard dick was pressed up against—
Okay, relax. I’ve got to stand in like three minutes.
“Great, tomorrow afternoon it is. I’m thinking we can walk the Wynwood Walls and grab a bite to eat?”
“Sounds good, mate. I haven’t been to the walls yet, it’ll be fun.”
“It sure will.” I managed to hold eye contact without melting into a puddle. I didn’t know what exactly it was about Beckham that undid me in record time. Today he looked exceptionally attractive, with a five-o’clock shadow and a white polo shirt that hugged his chest and arms in a way that made me jealous.
Imagine that: jealous of a polyester-cotton blend shirt.
“And thank you for taking my case.” I meant it. More than anything. Things finally felt like they were moving in the right direction, and I hadn’t had that feeling in years. It felt like someone had turned on a fan and all the smog floating around me was on its way out the window. I could breathe a little better. Still not a hundred percent, but I was getting there.
“Thank you for coming to me for help. It’s not going to be easy, I won’t hide that. But I’m dedicated to helping you.” He cocked his head. I gulped.
“I, uh, still think about that night. A lot.”
What the hell made me just say that?
His sparkling eyes lit with a flame, his lids lowering. The stare pinned me in place. “A lot, huh?”
I nodded and managed to swallow, even though I was forgetting how to control any particular part of my body.
“Just how much?”
“Every night.” I licked my lips. This was a new level of crazy, fueled by the insane attraction I felt toward this man. “And then every morning.”
He chuckled, the sound settling deep in my chest, taking root.
“I think about that night, too.” The admission wasn’t as strong as mine, but still, I’d take it. Beckham leaned forward in his chair, placing his elbows on his desk, his hands fisted and covering his mouth.
“You, uhm… I’ve never met someone like you.” I didn’t know what was going on, why I felt the need to fill silence with more proclamations, but I did. I barreled onward. “I was a mess that night. A lot of other guys would have called a cab and sent me off before even taking me upstairs. You… you helped me. You understood.” I tried to ignore the growing heat between my legs. “You also really,reallyturned me on that night. If it wasn’t for how nervous I felt that night, I would have…”
I would have given you anything you asked of me, Beckham.
He moved his hands from his face, giving me a clear view of the sexy set of lips already glistening wet and ready to be kissed. He grinned and sat back in his chair, dropping his hands on his lap. I couldn’t help but notice a bulge in his khakis. Part of it was covered by the desk, but he was sitting back far enough for me to see that he was equally as excited by our reunion as I was.
“You would have what, Oliver?” He leaned forward again. He was smiling, too. My eyes landed on his lips and froze.
“I would…” Was this crazy? This was crazy. Beckham was releasing some toxic gas into his office through the vents—that was the only explanation for my behavior. “I would do this.” I lifted my butt off the chair and leaned forward, bracing myself on his desk, our lips coming together in a reunion of epic proportions.
It was just as explosive as the night we had first met. Beckham’s kiss was devastating in a way that made me want to clear off his desk and lie down with my legs up in the air.
His tongue parted my lips, slipped into my mouth. I probed with the same vigor, our kiss evolving into something more. The heat was rising far past the usual Miami temperatures which seemed to try and break in through the closed window.
“Jesus, Beckham.” I spoke during a moment we were both catching our breath. Our foreheads were pressed together, my eyes focused in on those beautiful lips. “I don’t know what you’re doing to me.”
“I want to keep doing it,” he said, his voice a low growl. His tongue flicked out, traced the line of my upper lip. It sent a shiver down my back, the heat of it feeling like a lava trail crawling down my spine.
The sound of footsteps outside Beckham’s door startled me, as if we were two little kids caught making out under the bleachers by the history teacher. I jumped back into my seat, the chair almost tipping over from the sudden weight.
The footsteps moved past the door, farther down the hallway, disappearing into the distance.
Beckham looked at me, and he laughed. The motherfucker laughed, and it was the sexiest damn sound I’d ever heard. “You’re something else, Oliver.”
“I get nervous,” I said.
