Liliya
"Tell me about you, Liliya."
Those words snapped me back to reality and I looked away. Detective Emerson had undoubtedly seen too much in the few seconds I'd left my guard down, and there was no way continuing to hold his gaze was a good idea. Those dark chocolate eyes may have fooled me for a second, but I knew better than to trust a cop.
"Shouldn't we be discussing what happened tonight, Detective?" I replied after a moment of collecting myself. Too much was on my mind to get distracted by real conversation, even if it was with a sandy-haired, rock-bodied man like the detective. There was too much at stake to be careless. That, and he still had that damn shiny police badge sitting on top of his jacket.
"Weston," the detective said out of nowhere, and I found myself glancing back to him. His gaze wasn't as intense as it had been a moment ago, just before he asked me to tell him about myself, but it was still inviting. Too inviting. If I'd known calling the cops would have me all hot and bothered over someone who I used to despise the idea of, I might have just risked the trouble and fled the scene.
"Weston?" It took me a second too long to realize that he was telling me his name.
"Call me Weston," he told me with a nod. "Detective Emerson seems a bit too formal, considering we just saw each other half naked."
Despite everything, I felt the corner of my lip turn up, and I blinked up at him teasingly.
"Well, that does seem to break the ice, doesn't it?" I laughed. "Then just call me Liliya. It's only fair if I'm going to call you Weston." That, and it was the only truthful part of my name that I'd given. Smithton was just the name on my fake ID.
"Indeed; though," he trailed off thoughtfully, "I didn't mind hearing you call me Detective like that."
And just like that, I was completely relaxed again, professionalism and mafia history be damned. So what if he was a cop? That didn't mean I couldn't flirt a little. I'd be gone as soon as this ordeal was over with anyway.
I wonder how Lyov is doing...
"So you were at the bus stop..." Weston prompted. I nodded slowly.
"I was." And I began to recount my story, leaving out only the part where I told the man he could leave on his own or in a stretcher. That might sound a little too... I don't know. Mafia daughter-like? Trained killer-esque? Femme Fatale in disguise?
When I finished my story, Weston looked very impressed. I guess most of his police calls probably didn't end with the victim shooting out the assailant's knees.
"You're something else, aren't you?" he asked, and I had to look away. I wasn't the blushing type, but the way he looked at me made me feel something... different. Like he was impressed by what I did, and not expectant of me to do more. And like I did something right. I wasn't used to it, and it caught me off guard.
"You have no idea," I muttered, and I heard Weston chuckle across from me. He opened his mouth to say something in response, but the waiter brought our food then, and all other thoughts were lost.
"I hope you're hungry." Weston was already picking up his fork, and I saw what he meant; the amount of food on my plate was ridiculous, and it all looked amazing.
"Damn," I gasped. "This is the best thing I've seen all day." And then, without hesitation, I added with a lip bite, "Almost."
Weston's eyes flicked to mine and I saw a different kind of hunger flash behind those deep brown orbs. Why the hell I was even entertaining such thoughts was a mystery to me, but I couldn't seem to help myself with him. Maybe it was the touch of forbidden that made him so alluring, or maybe it was the controlled way he held himself that stood out in my chaotic life. Either way, I was finding myself way more attracted than necessary to the detective sitting in my booth. And I wasn't nearly as alarmed by this fact than I should have been, considering I'd been imagining the two of us in a private hotel room since I'd seen him shirtless.
"Coffee?" Weston asked me, and I blinked away any thoughts of the detective and myself anywhere but in our respective seats.
"Please," I breathed. "I've been dying for caffeine all night." I watched as Weston filled my cup from the old pitcher that had been placed on our table, and smiled when he pushed the mug towards me. I thanked him and blew on the beverage for a moment before taking a long drink.
"No creamer or sugar?" Weston wondered, and I shook my head.
"Waste of time," I explained. "Plus, coffee tastes great on its own. The only sweet coffee product I drink is Kahlua."
"Mmm, and are you more of a Kahlua and milk, or a White Russian kind of girl?"
If you only knew... Well you wouldn't be flirting with me, that's for sure.
"I'll give you one guess." I took a bite of my breakfast platter and sighed. When everything blew over, I'd have to bring Lyov here one day.
"I'm gonna go with the latter," he smirked, and I shot him a wink. "I don't know why I even asked."
"I don't know either," I sang. "Kahlua and milk is a breakfast beverage."
"Not a fan of Bloody Mary's?"
"I guess I never really grew into liking tomatoes," I shrugged. I was making fast progress on my meal, but I stopped chewing immediately when Weston spoke again.
"Well," he began, his gaze locking onto mine, "I'll have to remember that in case I ever catch you in the morning." Our knees brushed under the table, and a jolt of feeling passed through me. I could tell Weston felt it too by the way his hand tightened on his fork, but neither of us moved to end the contact.
I watched him through my bangs as I took another drink of coffee, until his phone buzzed, distracting us both.
"Looks like the traffic cam footage checks out with your story," Weston announced, and I smiled.
"Why, didn't you believe me?" I teased, and Weston pocketed his phone.
"Astonishingly, yes," he admitted. "As unlikely as your story sounded, I never doubted its authenticity."
"And it wasn't because you saw me half naked?" Or that I sort of eye-fucked you when you took your shirt off? Whoops?
Weston's eyes turned dangerous as he flicked his gaze down my body and then back to my face. "No. It wasn't. Though I can't say it wouldn't have helped."
"I'm flattered."
"You should be. I've been on the force for almost a decade. I can see through just about any flimsy story."
"When did you start?" I wondered, more curious about his age than anything. He had that tough look to him that could have meant he was twenty-five or thirty-two. The chiseled, but shaved jaw didn't help my assessment, though the light shadows under his eyes and the amount of scars I'd seen on his torso earlier pointed more towards the second.
"I graduated from the academy when I was nineteen," he explained. So, about twenty-nine. Still in my preferred age range. "Worked up to my detective title when I was twenty-six."
"Impressive," I remarked, admittedly still a tad distracted by my own thoughts of him. "It's usually a much longer wait, yes?"
"It is," he agreed. "Normally takes ten or fifteen years in good graces with your superiors and waiting until someone dies or retires. I got lucky. And I was just that damn good at my job." He winked a little and I rolled my eyes.
"Usually when your job is your life, that's about the only thing you're good at," I jabbed, though my imagination told me otherwise.
"If you're issuing a challenge," he started, leaning forward a little, "I'd be happy to prove otherwise."
I pressed my thighs together, causing friction between our legs and further exciting me. No, no. I was not getting seduced by a cop. Well... Not that easily, anyway.
"Hmm," I hummed, tapping my chin with my pointer finger and biting my lip. "Let's see. Can you... roll your r's?"
Weston demonstrated that he could, in fact, roll his r's, though I could see that he was just humoring me from the mischievous glint in his eyes. After seeing him stiff and controlled for the first half of our meeting, especially with the other officers, I was quite liking this side of him, and decided to try and fuel it a little more.
"Can you... roll your tongue?" This time I licked my top lip a little while he demonstrated. He did the same after demonstrating, beaming me with a look that told me that wasn't all he could do with that tongue.
"Satisfied?" Weston asked once he was through. I shrugged lightly and took the last bite of my food.
"Not quite, but it'll do," I smirked, then remembered something important. "Am I free to go? Since my story was cleared?"
"Yeah, you're good," Weston confirmed, shifting back to a more professional demeanor. "Let me get this paid for and I'll drive you back to where you need to go."
"Oh, I can handle it," I insisted, but Weston was already handing the waiter back the bill. I frowned. "I'll get the tip."
"You've had a long night," Weston argued back.
"Yeah, well judging by how pissed off you were when you got to the scene, so have you. Most likely coming directly from another case that was supposed to be the end of the night, so saying my night's been long isn't going to work here."
Weston stared at me almost angrily for a moment before raising an eyebrow and sitting back a little.
"Perceptive, aren't you?" he inquired. "I'm almost mad for getting called out, but I'm not. Want to know why?"
"Why?"
"Because I told him to keep the change. Now let's get out of here."
That sexy, conniving policeman bastard...
"Well, you got me there," I allowed, shrugging on my jacket with a bit more back-arching than necessary. "I guess you are good at more than just your job."
Weston scowled, but I noticed his jaw working to conceal a smile, and I reveled in this small victory. It'd probably be my last for a long time with how chaotic my life was about to become.
The two of us thanked the man at the counter, Jax according to his name tag, and headed back outside. It was still raining, and we rushed to the car. When I was inside, I slammed the door behind me and turned just as Weston did the same, and I found myself suddenly very close to him. Close enough that if I had leaned forward just a few more inches, that cupid's bow lip of his could have been between my own. We sat frozen like that for a long moment until Weston cleared his throat and moved back.
"Where to?" he asked, his voice significantly deeper than it had been in the restaurant. That, his close proximity, and the fact that I could smell his musky cologne now had me crossing my legs and folding my hands. I'd have some cleaning up to do when I did reach wherever I was going. But for now...
"I still need to catch a bus," I sighed. "I wonder if mine has gone."
"We can check," Weston suggested, and started the car. The ride back to the bus stop was filled with significantly more sexual tension than the ride from, and by the time we arrived, I was almost gasping to get out of that car. Or, to stay in it for the rest of the night. Either, really. I was just about done caring that he was a cop for the moment. It'd been a long day and I could use the distraction.
"I'm going to check the listings," I informed Weston, and hopped out of the car. I expected him to wait for me, but he followed a few paces behind me towards the bus stop. It was all clean now, cleared of officers and caution tape, but I thought I saw a trace of blood left that the rain had missed. It was quite a satisfying sight.
When I focused on the small screen listing the night bus schedule, I groaned.
"I missed it," I called out, only to turn and find Weston standing directly behind me. I felt my body heat involuntarily at his nearness. Or maybe that was his own body heat mingling with mine. Either way, the rain seemed to get a little less cold for just a second.
"What's your plan then?" Weston wondered. The way he was looking at me suggested one thing, one thing that I was all too eager for, but just to test him...
"I think I'll just wait here overnight," I shrugged. "It'll be back in a few hours, and I'm pretty sure I have a pocket knife in my suitcase..."
"No," Weston declared, and the pure authority in his voice made me shiver, though not at all in a bad way. "I'll take you to a hotel. You're not staying out here in this weather, especially after earlier."
"You're right," I agreed, and took a small step closer to him. "But, what if someone finds out I'm staying alone? It could be dangerous..."
Weston's hand shot out to grasp my arm then, and he dragged me against him. I gasped a little upon the impact, but froze when he lowered his lips- oh God, those lips- down to my ear and whispered huskily so that I could feel his hot breath on my skin.
"You won't be staying alone."
on.