Happy Friday, lovelies! I can totally see these two getting their own book. But when is the question. I have a few more books to write before I could even focus on them. So, lucky you, I’ll be doing quite a few more scenes with them! They are so much fun!



Writing Prompt ~ Mmm… (Provided by Doreen) Scene #5

O. M. G. Could he feel her shaky hands? Because her nerves were riled so high, she wanted to puke. And she only ever threw up when she was near sushi. The smell, the sight—ugh—even the thought of sushi made her insides gurgle with unease.

That’s how she felt right now with her hand up Detective Walker’s pants.

Well, not literally. She’d have to drag her hand further up to really be in his pants. Much, much further up.

“Brooke?”

“Mmm…” She shook her head, realizing how that came out. Then looked up at him. “Hmm? What is it?”

He eyed her funnily, a sexy-as-sin grin on his face, as if he found her humorous. Unfortunately, she didn’t think in the good way. No man ever looked at her with hunger in his eyes. She totally had to be misinterpreting his expression.

“I said I wanted to know everything.” His brow rose. Not cockishly. Geez, was that even a word? It sounded like a word. She was going with it was a word, and she’d use it at work one day just to prove it. But his brow arched in a way that said he would wait all day if she so choose to keep him waiting.

“About?”

His brow inched up a little more.

Duh! Right. Her dead, murdered boss and his now not so grabby hands.

“Right. My boss. Umm…yeah. He was a jerk of the highest order and…” And she shouldn’t have said she’d talk about her boss. Her eyes snapped back to his pants to finish the last few loops she needed to complete to get as far away from the yummy temptation sitting in front of her.

She hated her boss. She honestly had nothing nice to say about him. The last thing she needed was this detective even pondering the idea she killed him. She would not do well in jail. Orange looked terrible on her. Made her look like a frumpy pumpkin, no matter the style of shirt or dress she tried on.

“And…”

For heaven’s sake. No man should be devilishly handsome and have a voice that melted like butter when he spoke.

She stitched the last stitch, looped and tied a knot and then grabbed the scissors from her sewing box, snipping the thread as if she had been born to sew. She hesitated to remove her hand from his pants, but knew nothing good would come from this man being so close to her. And remaining in her house. He had to leave. Now.

“And I’m all done.”

Her hand slid out of his pants, shaking. Steeling her nerves, she tossed the scissors and needle in the box, and was about to stand up and move as far away from him as she could when a hand to her cheek stopped her cold.

“Look at me.”

In his silky smooth voice, it sounded like a soft caress to kindly do as he bid. But she knew it had been far from a request. It had been a demand.

She slowly tilted her gaze his way. Nothing but patience echoed back. Although she had felt a standoffish behavior when he first introduced himself, she felt nothing of the sort now.

“It’s okay. I promise.” His hand drifted away from her cheek—she missed his touch immediately—and he patted the spot next to him. “Sit by me.”

This time she heard more of a request rather than a demand, which had her obeying a little faster.

Her butt plopped down next to him with her eyes still glued to his. She was afraid to look away and she wasn’t even sure why. Something crackled between them. An odd sort of tension she wasn’t used to feeling.

“Let’s not start at the beginning. Let’s just start with yesterday. What happened?”

She swallowed, hating to relive any part of it. Hadn’t she already told him what happened? Sort of. He had grabby hands. What more did he want?

“My boss is between girlfriends. He thinks when he’s available, it’s okay to hit on any woman within a one foot radius. Unfortunately, I’m in that radius a lot, as his secretary. He’s normally usually just crude with his words, but this time he put…he touched my butt. Slapped it.” She licked her lips, hoping to occupy her mouth with something other than more talking. That should be enough to satisfy him.

His eyes zeroed in on the action, an intensity sizzling in his depths.

She stopped licking her lips.

He inhaled heavily and didn’t respond right away.

“What happened after that?” His jaw slightly clenched as he asked.

“Well,” she rolled her eyes upward staring at the ceiling for a moment. “I sort of reacted by…you know…slapping him back.” Her eyes bulged. “On the cheek. In anger. Of course. Not on his ass.”

The fierce look on his face disappeared as a sensual smile popped up. “Good for you. Did you report it?”

She swallowed again, hating her weakness. “No. Look, I didn’t kill him. He was one of the worst human beings I’ve ever met, but I didn’t kill him. I can’t even touch raw meat. Like, cut it or anything. Gross. There’s no way I could kill someone.”

He chuckled. “So, do you even eat meat?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t elaborate as she didn’t want to confess her methods because he’d probably think her even more insane than he probably already did.

“There’s something about you, Brooke. I don’t know what it is. You make me…” He started to lean closer, as if he wanted to kiss her.

Oh, yes, please. She wouldn’t say no to a kiss, even though it would be a terrible idea.

“I make you, what?”

His lips inched closer. “You make me—”

“Shit!”

Brooke winced. Willow had jumped on his lap, digging her claws in. Right on the spot every man coveted.

♥♥♥

If you’d like to start the story at the beginning, you can find the other scenes here:

Scene 1 | Scene 2 | Scene 3 | Scene 4