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The Detective Inspector's Wish

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'D'you know what I wish?'

'What do you wish, sir?'

He looks down at you, and bloody hell, those eyes - so beautiful and deep that you'd happily drown in them. And that stubble - damn it, you could just take his face in your hands, grasp at that sexy stubble and snog the life out of him. You want to, god you really want to. But you don't.

'Stop calling me sir.'

'Sorry, sir.' You grin, he winks. Your heart thumps against the inside of your chest. Does he realise the effect he has on you? Standing next to him, waiting your turn for the coffee machine, you try to keep your breathing calm, your heartbeat under control and your hands on your mug. You are just about succeeding, but it's a close run thing. 'What do you wish?'

'I wish..' A sudden beep interrupts him, and he looks over at the machine as it finishes sputtering out a divine smelling mug of fresh, hot coffee. 'Ah, finally.'

His hand curves round the mug sat on the drip tray. You know you're staring, you can't help it. You have daydreams about his hands, how they could hold you so gently and then how they could slip their way under your clothes and...

'Oh, that is good,' he sighs.

Oh god. He's taking a sip from his mug, eyes closed, running his tongue over his lips, savouring it. How is it that a man drinking coffee can send shocks of pleasure through your body, especially to certain parts that it really shouldn't? But that expression, that sexy throaty sigh. Bloody hell.

'Oops, sorry.' And he's stepping back from the machine, waving you in front of him. 'Here's me holding you up.'

If only he would, you think as you turn away, right here and now. Faffing with your mug, you're pretty sure you've pressed the button for black coffee, but you could've just requested a double espresso with extra shot for all the attention you're paying.  But then he's completely distracting you as he stands there; the warmth of his closeness rushes straight to your heart.

Another beep, your coffee's ready. Taking your mug back, you turn and look up at him, his mug at his lips, hand in his pocket, those beautiful eyes staring at you. Reaching out, you grasp the nearest drawer handle, steadying yourself, trying not to melt into a puddle under that intense gaze.

'So, sir...' Clearing your throat as your voice catches. Deep breath. 'You didn't tell me what you wish.'

Still looking at you from over the top of his mug, his eyes become darker, mischievous, as the tip of his tongue sneaks out to brush over his lips. Damn, that is so sexy. Your heart almost stops as he slowly bites his bottom lip, and you find you can't take your eyes off him. He's close enough to bring his head down towards yours. The whisper of his breath over your cheek heats your skin, his mouth so near, almost touching you.

'I wish I knew what you're thinking when you look at me like that.' A soft, warm exhale of breath against your ear, and then a spark as his fingers brush your neck. 'Because all I can think about is getting you home and ripping that suit off you and putting my...'

Your hand grabs his as it tries to wander lower, a finger sneaking its way inbetween your shirt buttons.

'Well, my dear, you'll just have to wait until we get home to find out what I'm thinking.' Looking at him from under your eyelashes.

'Yeah?' He's grinning, that sexy laugh tickling your skin as he pops a quick kiss on your cheek. 'See you at 6 then, Mrs Lestrade. Last one to the car makes dinner.'

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