Foxed by Shiloh Hollis

Author:Shiloh Hollis [Hollis, Shiloh]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

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His fingers trembled as he dressed himself. He kept his head down, too. Recovering or regretting? Perhaps he just wanted to get away and regain some privacy, stop feeling exposed and get control of his emotions. I could understand that, but I had to make sure it wasn’t something worse.

He could make a lot of trouble for me if he wanted to. All he’d have to do is bat his pretty eyelids at the captain and say that I was harassing him, and I could be out the door. I was well aware how much the precinct wanted his skills … and it could probably do without mine easily enough, if push came to shove.

Sure, I was a good detective — but there are lots of good detectives. When it comes to shifters certified to detect with their noses, there aren’t.

“Hey. Look at me,” I said.

I’d already wiped the dampness from my eyes, and his semen from my mouth, so it wasn’t like he was going to see anything but my face. I raised his chin with my fingers when he hesitated.

What I saw made me swallow. He looked … tearful, vulnerable … younger than I’d imagined he could. We weren’t too far from being the same age, I knew that, but right now he looked impossibly young and vulnerable.

“Hey. You hurt?”

He shook his head and looked away again quickly, biting his lip. “I’m — fine,” he choked out.

“Okay, well, finish getting dressed. Maybe we can pick a better spot next time, huh?” I was only halfway trying to reassure him; I really did want another round, and hopefully somewhere we didn’t have to rush, keep quiet, and risk our jobs and the captain’s wrath.

“Oh — okay.” He perked up a little after that, though you couldn’t have called him bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, not by any streak of the imagination. I was dressed sooner because I really hadn’t undressed at all.

I leered unashamedly as he struggled with his sweater, skipping the shirt underneath this time, probably because he was hot. I enjoyed the eyeful of bare chest I got before he could cover it up. On impulse, I reached out and tweaked his bare pink nipple again.

He jumped and uttered a startled snort, thrashing around inside his sweater, getting trapped in his hurry.

“Might just trap you there, you know,” I said, pressing my body up against his, rubbing against him, his jeans against my suit pants.

He shivered, and grew still under my touch.

I put a hand in the middle of his back. He was clearly the kind of guy who needed a little reassurance afterwards. How could I begrudge him that, after the best sex of my life?

I still couldn’t quite get my head around that; I shied away from even thinking about it. But I knew — I just knew — this had been special. Beyond a shadow of a doubt, I wasn’t going to forget about this, or him, or the possibility of more.

Maybe men didn’t have to be only for sex.

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