King of Crime ✔️

Fantastic Coworkers

When I had to wait outside the forensic lab for Samuel, I finally was able to cool my head. I absolutely hated when people got mad at me, for one because I always reacted like a damn child. 

I pressed against my cheeks, trying to calm the flutter in my belly. 

And secondly, because I was a damn idiot for getting turned on by it. 

I drew in a long breath, smiling friendly at a passing agent. Why the hell was I like this? I trembled and rubbed over my upper arms, leaning against the cold glass. 

Even though it was so hot outside, the air conditioning inside the Field Office worked remarkably well, probably to maintain the right temperature for all these idiots wearing full-on suits mid-summer. 

I shoved my backpack against the wall with my shoe, so a woman with a trolley could pass.

I thought back on the boy I met on the bus this morning. It'd be great if I had someone to talk to at school, maybe this was finally my chance to make friends in America. 

The doors to the lab opened and Samuel, tapping with files against his abs, stepped out, closing the door behind him. His white shirt strained around his incredible arms as he let his grey eyes slide over my shoulders and linger on my face.

"What is it?" he queried in a normal tone. 

He clearly had composed himself like an adult already. I couldn't say the same thing about myself.

"What do you mean?"

"You look like you've seen a ghost. Are you cold?" 

I frowned up at him. Look who was suddenly acting all caring. I pulled off the wall and bend over to pick up my bag. I could literally feel his gaze checking me out, and it made the flutter in my belly even worse. 

The next time I was going to meet him, I'd wear sweatpants. And a hoodie.

"Yeah I am, actually." I swung the backpack over my shoulder and headed towards the reception again, to take the left hallway. Samuel caught up to me in a few steps.

"I'll turn up the heater in my office," he promised coldly, as he slipped the files into his bag and his hands in his pockets. His dominant and large demeanor shadowed over me from behind, making my lips part to try and breathe more steadily. 

If I had a type, he would check all the boxes, indefinitely. I never sought it behind him till now, but he sure did get mad. And it was fucking hot. The heat was pooling in between my legs as his arm brushed past mine.

"I'll be quiet," I finally broke the silence. 

I knew he was sacrificing quiet worktime for my selfish needs, and I was quite embarrassed by it. He didn't respond. It was an empty promise anyway, I was going to have to answer the CIA-agent, but I wanted to say something, anything. 

Why were these hallways so damn long, anyway? Who the fuck designed this?

"They should've built upwards, huh," Samuel suddenly said, making a shy smile sweep over my face, not daring to look at him. 

The floor sure was interesting. I tried with all my might to contain the eruption of feelings in my stomach, without much success. It was definitely showing on my face.

"Yeah."

"Sorry for snapping." 

I finally looked up at him, in awe. Did he just apologize? His grey eyes met mine briefly, before slowing down in his steps and reaching for a door. 

"We're here." He opened the door for me, and I entered a dark office, wanting to tell the man that it was alright and all was forgiven. But it would be a little too late to do so now, so I stayed silent.