Page 41 of Detectives in Love
“I might be onto something,” he says, his voice buzzing with energy. “But I need to check something first.”
“Please tell me you don’t mean now,” I mutter as we slip out of the morgue.
“God, no, Newt.” He actually laughs. “We’re going home. You’ve more than earned it.”
I snort, amused. We step into the pitch-black hallway, and despite the beams of our flashlights, I stumble—my hand shooting out to grab Xavier’s elbow, catching my balance just in time.
He stiffens for a split second, then asks, “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I nod, letting go. “Sorry.”
Xavier nods back. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
But as we reach the basement landing, a door slams somewhere upstairs—followed by voices and the heavy thud of boots. Xavier and I lock eyes.
Before I can say anything, he grabs my shoulders and shoves me into the narrow gap beneath the stairs, pressing me back against the cold wall.
“I think it came from below,” a man’s voice echoes.
The footsteps grow louder. Closer. The guards are just one floor above us now, their voices bouncing down the stairwell.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Xavier presses in tighter, keeping me pinned. His cheek brushes my temple. His breath is warm against my neck. My pulse hammers in my ears. He’s solid against me, one of his legs barely wedged between mine like we’ve been caught mid-makeout or something.
And yeah, this is absolutely not the time for my brain to be clocking the scent of him, the heat of his breath, or the way my body fits perfectly against his.
But it does. And it sends a very inconvenient jolt of arousal straight through me. My cock stirs, completely confused by what’s happening, and I pray to God Xavier doesn’t notice. I freeze, brain blank, just begging for all of this to be over—and of course, that’s when Xavier’s thigh shifts the tiniest bit, brushing against me.
And oh, God.
I go hard. Instantly. The kind of hard that hasn’t happened since high school. My whole body tenses, face burning with humiliation, but I don’t dare move or say a word, because yeah—I don’t want to die or go to jail.
Xavier tenses too. Then leans back, just an inch. Just enough to give me space. Which somehow makes it worse, because now I’m almost positive he felt it.
A door slams somewhere above us, and the stairwell falls silent.
We stay frozen for a few more seconds, barely breathing. Time stretches. Nothing. No voices. No footsteps. The guards are gone.
Xavier finally steps back, exhaling a heavy sigh. There’s a beat of awkward silence between us, and I hope to God he’ll just pretend none of this happened. He doesn’t say a word.
So I do. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
He nods. We creep up the stairs like ghosts, slipping past the first floor landing. But just as we reach the second floor, a door slams below again.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
There’s nowhere to hide. We’re exposed, stuck in the open, right in the middle of the staircase.
“I swear I heard steps, Earl,” one of the guards says.
“They must be here somewhere,” the other replies.
That’s when Xavier hisses into my ear, “Run.”
We bolt. Take the stairs two at a time, our footsteps pounding so loud it feels like they’re echoing inside my skull. We’re a couple of flights ahead before the guards even realize what’s happening.
“They’re upstairs!” one of them shouts.
