Chapter 12

"So,then she made this dessert that was low calorie and had pineapple in it," Mack said as we left the courthouse for our lunch break. We'd been giving our account of what had happened about seven months ago during a sting operation. We'd run to shut down some massage parlors that were selling more than hot rocks and foot rubs. Body parts had been getting rubbed, but they weren't toes.

I nodded as we walked, the day a cloudy one, big rains moving in with high winds. The rain was sorely needed. No one wanted wildfires. Of course, with the storms came the possibility of lightning, which could spark the one thing we all wished to avoid. Sort of like me texting Oliver all the time.

We were not talking about the case either. We were flirting. Bigly. Even though I knew it was wrong, I could not stop myself from replying with my own idiotic brand of come hither that worked on no man other than Oliver. He seemed to dig my snark, go figure. This little message was about a local politician who had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar over in the San Fran area. Lots of romance with a fellow office worker, funds being spent on jewelry to woo said fellow office worker. Big, expensive cookies.

"What do you think?"

I glanced up from telling Oliver that I hoped he didn't expect me to spend ten grand on a dinner date because I'd have to sell my car and then, how would I get to the luxury restaurant to woo him. Woo him. I had actually typed those words. On my phone. To Oliver. Honestly, I was beyond help.

The Santa Ana winds threw my tie into my face. I batted it down, then stared at my partner. Mack huffed before shoving past me to get in line at a small taco shack.

"Sorry, I was discussing the merits of quality linens with my sister."

Mack shot me a glare over his shoulder as we waited to get into the tiny eatery. "Talking to your sister makes you smile like your head is empty? And it is, you know. Empty."

"It's not totally empty. There's enough gray matter to tell you that you should stay far away from anything on the menu that has beans in it. The last time you overdid it on the refried beans and had to go back to court to continue your testimony, the judge had to empty the courtroom to bring in fumigators."

"Fuck you. They only cleared the courtroom for a few minutes while the bailiff used some Febreze. And don't change the subject. I know you're not talking to Courtney, Bryce, or Leo. You're talking to Cowan, and that is going to bite you on the ass." The mere thought of Oliver nipping my bare ass made my dick twitch. "There. See, that expression right there is what I'm talking about! Fuck me, Jackson, you are walking a really fine line. You know that having a sexual relationship with that man is going to potentially screw the pooch on that investigation. All the defense would have to do is get wind of you being involved with a witness during an active investigation, and you'd be on the stand faster than you can spit."

"I'm not involved with Oliver. We're just…" I floundered.

Mack leapt on that mumble with both feet. "Yeah, exactly. Do you not recall what we were warned about when we were in training?" I rolled my eyes. "Don't do that. They said that the three things that will bring down a male officer the fastest is booze, bucks, and broads. Those are the three B's to avoid, Jackson."

"For me, it would be booze, bucks, and beef bayonet." Mack did not look amused. "Okay, look, I know you're just trying to do good by me. I know that, and I appreciate it. There is nothing sexual between me and Oliver." He snorted in derision. "I mean it. Look, to prove that I'm not smitten, I am going to go to his house tonight and explain that, while I enjoy his texts, I have to maintain my professionalism."

"Yeah?" He took a step closer to the door of the taco shack. The sidewalk was bustling with people trying to eat and get back to work.

I made an X over my heart. "I promise. I'm going to fill him in on the latest news of the case, which is fucking little, and then tell him that, until the case is solved or closed, we're to only have contact when it has to do with the investigation."

"You could tell him now," he suggested, then glanced at the phone in my hand. Yeah, I could. I should. I knew this flirty/kissy thing we had bubbling was not cool. Mack was right. If the case did ever get to court and the defense attorney found out there was something sexual between one of the detectives and a key witness, it could be ugly. Real ugly. Any testimony that I or Oliver had given would be tainted. I'd probably be brought up on charges of conduct unbecoming. Possibly fired. So, ending it now, before it had a chance of really getting out of control, was the right thing to do. And I would. Tonight.

"I'm not the kind of man to do something like this over a text."

Mack studied me for a long moment, then sighed. "Okay, tell him in person. Tomorrow, I want to hear that you're done staring at your phone like a teenager who's been shown his first pair of titties." His cell vibrated, and he checked it. "Financial reports are in from the clinic and staff," he advised.

"Great, hours of sitting and looking at numbers," I growled.

"Not you. It'll be me, now you're fucking one of the witnesses. So, I'll take over any witness contacts with Oliver Cowan starting on the morrow."

I blinked. "‘On the morrow'? What the fuck? Am I partnered with Billy Shakespeare?" I reached into my front pocket for my smokes, only to realize I didn't have any. Oh hey, that was progress. I'd not thought about a cigarette for almost ten minutes. Fuck you, nicotine addiction. God, I was more than hungry now. This line was stupid long. If I flashed my badge, would it get us served faster? Probably not…

"Elena and I have been watching Bridgerton," Mack said, his pale cheeks turning red.

That busted me up. Mack chuckled. I didn't mention that I had been known to watch that show on occasion. Occasion meaning as soon as the episodes dropped. I wasn't one to miss hot men in tight breeches when the opportunity presented itself. Speaking of hot men, I snuck in one final text to Oliver saying I had to go and would drop by this evening if that suited. It did suit, he replied, then signed off with several cookie emojis. I smiled at the chocolate chips until someone—Mack—elbowed me in the ribs. Hard. Right. No more of that stuff. It was time to return to being the old Jackson Winwood, even if I wasn't sure I truly wanted to go back.

* * *

I could hearthe frivolity inside Oliver's house from on the front step. I listened for a minute or two, enjoying the sound of giggling girls, stampeding feet, and the burly growl of a man pretending to be a troll… maybe?

The squeals reminded me of my youth when my older sister and I played outside. Our folks didn't like screaming in the house. Dad was especially touchy about loud kids, and so our rowdiness always took place in the backyard. Generally, I would be told to be something gross and nasty, say a troll, and Courtney would be the fair princess who would slay me. None of that waiting for a prince to rescue her for my big sis. Nope. She took care of her own business, and if killing the tiny troll who had stolen her stuffed piggy was what needed to be done, then so be it.

I missed my sister. And my nephew. I wished we lived closer to each other, but that wasn't going to happen. Maybe if Court were living in LA still, I'd be more… I don't know. Social? Pleasant? Less prone to being sullen and sad all the fucking time. It struck me, then, standing on Oliver's stoop, that one of the things I liked about him, and his house, was that when I was here I wasn't alone. I had no one, really. Mack and I were close, but I didn't go to his place even though I was invited every week. He and Elena were newlyweds. They didn't really want some half-drunk asshole sitting around making their lives sour and stale.

Someone peeked out of the window beside the door, yanking the sheer curtain to the side, her tiny face pressed to the glass. I snickered at the little girl, doing her best impression of a pug dog. Then, without warning, the door opened. There stood two girls with long hair, bright eyes, and glittery wings.

"Hello, sir," the oldest of the two, Scarlett, said. She of the clever blue eyes and long dark hair like Oliver. Daisy, the younger, stood at her sister's side, both winded and sweaty.

"Hello, is your father home?" I asked in my nicest cop voice just as Oliver dashed into view, his eyes widening as he spied me in the doorway. He was wearing a dragon headpiece and a lumpy tail someone had tied to his belt.

"Ah, I see that a fearsome dragon has eaten your dad. I'm the Sheriff! How can I save you?"

Oliver rolled his eyes as he struggled to free himself from the felt dragon head sitting on his skull, but he was smiling. The girls giggled in delight.

"Help us, Sheriff! We have to get the dragon!" Scarlett shouted, turned, and ran at her father. Daisy did the same.

Oliver gathered them both up, growling and snarling most fearsomely. His dark eyes moved to me. "Take another step, Sheriff, and I will eat the princesses," he snarled in very good dragon speak.

I leaped into the foyer. The girls squealed in glee. Oliver flashed me a smile that made my knees turn into jelly, and the chase was on. This one was much more enjoyable than the last chase I'd been involved in. This one ended when we all collapsed onto a massive sofa in the living room, out of breath, but laughing madly.

"Okay, the sheriff… needs to buy a horse," I huffed as the girls jumped up, giddy with energy, and ran off to find me a horse. Oliver glanced at me, a quick peek that could have been purposely seductive, and my whole body rang like a tuning fork.

"Thank you for playing along," he said, his breathing calming much faster than mine. Damn athletes who never smoked.

I waved his thanks off. It had been incredibly fun for me to take part in some playtime. Leo and I never got enough time together, it seemed, what with his father wanting him all to himself, which I got, but still…

"The law does what the law needs to do," I replied, noting with interest that his gaze was moving over me as I lay sprawled on his couch.

Knowing he was checking me out, I did the opposite of what I should have done. I should have sat up, told him why I was here, and left, pronto. Instead, I flexed my hips just a bit to show off the growing bulge in my slacks. Oliver's gaze grew hot.

The girls came thundering in then, both with stick horses in hand. I shoved a throw pillow in front of my groin, then begged off a gallop, citing my old age. The girls moaned but moved on to their own games.

"Is there something new about the case?" Oliver asked.

"No, sadly, nothing really, but we're not giving up," I assured him. He seemed placated with my reply. Now was the time to lay my upstanding cop dictate on him, only there was someone missing. "Where's your friend, the nanny?"

"Jamie?"

Of course, I knew his name, but my inner child poked at me. "Yeah, Jamie."

"At a research conference, he's away for the night."

Well, that was interesting news. Not that there weren't the girls to think of, but we might be able to get in a peck or two when the girls weren't watching. I'd take that.

I was starved for a taste of Oliver.

I came here to stop everything, not start something.

"Dinner will be ready in a few minutes, if you'd like to stay?" Oliver enquired as he peeled off his dragon tail and placed it on the coffee table next to a coloring book and box of crayons.

Nope, negatory. Tell him what you came here for and leave.

"What are you having?" I asked as Inner Jackson gave me a hearty Moe Howard slap to the head.

"Spaghetti and meatballs. Nothing fancy. Oh, and a salad that only I will eat."

God, that sounded amazing. "I'd like that."

"Good. Want to help set the table?"

I stuffed lonely old Jackson into the trunk of a mental Ford Pinto. Who needed his negativity? I'd tell Oliver why I was here after we ate. Might as well get a meal in me before I went back to talking to a dead orchid while sipping whiskey and wishing I had someone to hold on to when shit went south.

* * *

I wanted him.

When we were washing dishes. Or when he was upstairs tucking the girls into bed. Even if his house smelled of garlic, baby shampoo, and a Barbie that had been soaked in perfume and left to dry on the kitchen counter.

I wanted Oliver. Badly. And that was a recipe for disaster. Yet here I stood, sipping coffee in his subtly lit, homey kitchen, examining the artwork on the fridge. Deep down, I knew I was about to screw the pooch, but I was caught in a riptide that I couldn't free myself from.

I suspected Oliver was in the same predicament. Only his career didn't hinge on us sleeping together. He would be fine. Me, on the other hand…

I felt him enter the room, that was how strong his pull was. My eyes closed as I willed myself to dredge up the courage to turn and tell him how things were going to be.

"They're out cold," he informed me softly, his voice like warm honeyed tea soothing a sore throat.

I opened my eyes, then turned to face him. Something taut snapped to life between us. I could no more stop myself from moving toward him than I could stop the world from spinning. Hopelessly adrift, I placed my mug of coffee on the counter, his deep brown gaze on me as I walked to him and sifted my fingers through his hair.

"This is going to be incredible," I whispered to the small part of Jackson not being controlled by my cock.

"We have to be quiet," he replied with a raspy exhale that stripped away any worries as I pulled his lips to mine. Covering his mouth would keep him silent. We went at each other like starving jackals. Nipping, lapping, biting. My dick was throbbing in my shorts, leaking, wanting…

"I want you in my mouth," I growled as I nibbled a path from his puffy lips to his neck. I bit gently, but firmly. Marking him. He moaned low and long, his hands moving down my sides to lock me into place against his body. I sucked harder. He rolled his hips. My balls drew up instantly, so I broke free. "I'm close."

With that announcement, I went to my knees. Oliver took a step back to bolster himself against the fridge as I yanked his joggers and briefs to his ankles. A fat, long prick sprang up and nearly put my eye out. If I was going to be blinded, let it be by a dick. I took him in hand, drool filling my mouth, and gave the purple head a swipe. Salty pre-cum coated my tongue. A soft sound of pleasure escaped me before I took him to the root.

"Fuck," he growled, his hips jutting. I gagged. He tried to pull back, but I grabbed his ass to keep him in place. I could take it. Fuck my mouth anytime, hockey man. "Sorry… it's been so long and you… ah man, that is good."

I purred around his dick, pulling a sound from him that made me shudder. Never had I heard such a perfect noise from a lover. I began sucking frantically, frenzied almost to get his spunk down my throat. He tried, bless him. He really did try not to blow his nut too quickly, but when I took his hefty balls in my hand and tugged them, he pumped like a mad man, then came down my throat. My eyes rolled back in my head as the tang of him coated my tongue.

I wanted more. I sucked with more vigor, slurping, drooling, moaning around his pulsating cock until he carded his fingers into my hair and eased me off. I glanced up and got the most blissful smile I had ever seen.

"You are… that was…"

"Incredible," I supplied, then swiped my lips with my tongue. Oliver shuddered at the sight, then gave my hair a tug. I rose slowly, then moved into his arms. He kissed me deeply, his tongue rolling over my molars as he unzipped my jeans to free my aching prick. Once he had me in his strong, rough hands, I went to pieces quickly. His head back, his mouth on my jugular, he stroked me tip to root, his calloused palm twirling over my sensitive cockhead. "Oh, damn, yeah…"

That was the extent of my monologue. He gave my throat a lick, then lowered himself to the floor. I watched as he dipped the tip of his tongue into the slit. That was pretty much all she wrote. I grunted out something that might have been a warning. Could have been the seven-day forecast. Who knew? My brain had shut down the moment I'd said hello this evening. I came hard, my head snapping back so fiercely my neck cracked. My balls emptied themselves into his willing mouth. I pumped gently until he pulled off, his lips coated with spittle and spunk.

"Jesus Christ, that was…"

"Incredible?" he offered, and I could do nothing other than nod. When he was standing, we kissed, exploring each other's mouths at leisure now that the madness of blind lust had been sated. For now. When I looked into his warm, open eyes, I knew this was the beginning of something more powerful and compelling than anything I had ever experienced. I should leave now. Right now. This instant. It had only been oral sex, not intercourse. I was sure my superiors would see the difference. Hell, that reasoning had worked for a president…

"I usually don't let myself get that carried away in the kitchen. Or anywhere where the girls could walk in," he said. I nodded. "You're just so…"

"Yeah, you are too."

"I can warm up some coffee cake that Jamie baked yesterday. If you'd like to stay and talk or…" He shrugged, and I smiled, as we both tucked and zipped.

Yeah, I felt the same way. "I'd like some coffee cake and talk."

His eyes danced with happiness, and I knew I was a goner.