It ain’t like he wants to be thinking about Shaz at a time like this.
The world’s full of willing women, right? Gorgeous birds with massive knockers and pretty frocks. Not some plonk with a man’s haircut, playing at being a copper.
He tries to imagine a redhead with crimson nails, on her knees polishing his knob, but nothing helps. All he can think about is Shaz’s eyes looking right into him. And damned if he don’t shoot his wad like a bloody Howitzer going off, with a deep groan and a silent prayer.
Please don’t let Chris find out.