15. Evidence and Red Lace Up Stockings
Strictly speaking, he's not supposed to be in the evidence lock up. But once he tells the computer what to do, he can't make it go any faster by sitting next to it. Likewise, once he's got his computer, his second computer, and his back-up, auxiliary computer (located in Abby's lab) all looking for things, there's not much he can do besides wait for answers to pop up.
So, he's "officially" down there to offer Abby some help.
The black stockings with the red laces up the back are his favorite. They are, without a doubt, the single sexiest piece of clothing in the history of clothes.
And he thinks, just possibly, she knows that about him, and he also thinks, just possibly, that's why she's wearing them, and that delicious red dress, without a lab coat on top of it.
|What a view!|
"Yeah." He's staring at her from across the lock up.
"You're distracting me."
"No you aren't."
"No, not really." He shakes his head and grins at her.
She's on the opposite side of the Ferrari from him, and once again, there are cameras watching. The evidence lock up has 24/7 surveillance. And once again, there's no sound on the cameras, so he knows he can't do anything that looks out of the ordinary. Two colleagues having a conversation, and goofing about a bit, is nothing out of the ordinary. But he can say whatever he likes.
"Speaking of distractions, do you know what those stockings do to me?" She looks amused, leans forward, her arms together, pressing her breasts up and toward him. "God, or that dress?"
She turns deliberately and walks, slowly, her back, and the backs of those stockings to him, each step flexing her legs and swinging her hips in a way that shouldn't be legal. She grabs something from the other side of the room, a clipboard maybe. Her head turns, and she says over her shoulder, "What do they do?"
He's now got an excuse to stand close to her.
He scuttles to the other side of the car. Stopping just behind her.
Theoretically, you might say this looks like he's standing behind her, looking over her shoulder. Standing right behind her. God, this is a thousand miles out of bounds and if anyone ever looks at the tape of this they are so busted. And he really doesn't care. She's flush against the Ferrari, and he's right against her back, chin on her shoulder, his hands to either side of her on the cherry-red metal of the car.
He keeps his voice low, they may be the only two down there, but who knows who might be heading in their direction. Just because most people take the elevator, doesn't mean everyone does.
"They make me want to bend you over this car, pull them off with my teeth, lick my way back up to your pussy, and then fuck you until we're both senseless."
There are certain words Tim basically never uses. Fuck and pussy among them. They only come out during certain extremely intimate occasions. And while it's true he doesn't seem like the kind of guy who would be great at dirty talk, he likes how he feels when he says things like that, and he really likes how Abby responds when he says things like that.
She closes her eyes and moans a little, fingers growing tight on the clipboard. He risks very quickly touching her hand, slipping the thumb that's next to her hand along her knuckles, and then strokes his fingers over the car.
"It's a shame this is evidence. Can you imagine leaning against it, one leg over my shoulder, as I eat you out? I can. I can taste you on my tongue, and see that gorgeous, stocking clad leg against my face and over my shoulder. I can feel your heel, poking me in the back.
"Or how about in the front seat? You in my lap, naked except for those stockings. Me deep inside you. You could lean back against the dashboard, and I could use my fingers."
He looks around, sees no one, and says a quick prayer that no evidence goes missing today. Then he takes his hand, drags it up the back of her leg, and cups her pussy in his hand.
"But what I'll have to settle for is getting you soaking wet. And knowing that you're walking around today, counting the minutes until we can get off work, go for a drive in my car, and try everything I just said." He kisses her neck, and pulls away, his phone buzzing, letting him know that one of his computers has found something.
He smiles. "And you love me."
"Yes, I do."
That stops him dead. She's certainly said I love you before, but it sounds different this time.
She steps up to him, pressing against him. "Really."
Cameras, other people, work, his phone buzzing with new evidence be damned. He pulls her even tighter to him and kisses her. For what feels like a long time nothing held his attention besides the feel of her body on his, but the bonging sound of the elevator forces them to spring apart like matching poles of two magnets, seconds before the doors open. He grabs the clipboard, in need of something to hold strategically, and heads for the stairs, thinking taking the long way back to his desk is a good idea.