He shouldn't be here.
He knows that. And he wouldn't be here if her request wasn't valid. But he witnessed the bearded man's unsettling demeanor earlier, and Eddie's concern that he might not clear out of their hotel room seemed warranted. Jamie's a cop — sure, of course he could take a look around to make sure the guy's really gone before Eddie goes to the front desk to reset her key card.
He came upstairs. He checked the bathroom and the closet. He verified that the scorned lover made his exit and didn't leave any belongings that might bring him back later. He said something about there we go, your boyfriend's definitely gone and she admonished his use of the word boyfriend and—
And now he's backed against the hotel room door with a near-stranger's tongue down his throat.
He shouldn't be here. He shouldn't let this happen. But he isn't stopping her.
Jamie's hands grip her waist. Hers restlessly roam over his chest, his shoulders, and her fingers close in the short hair at the nape of his neck as she tugs and releases his bottom lip. The sensation prompts an unrestrained groan from him and he feels himself relax into the demanding pressure of her mouth, the solid weight of her body—
She tugs at his tie and his mind re-engages. With a sharp inhale he tips his mouth away. He shouldn't be here.
"I — we should — I need to—" he stammers.
"You need to what?" Her words are just hot air against the underside of his jaw before she finds that sensitive pulse there.
He pushes against her waist. "I'm on duty, I — my break's only—"
Finally she eases herself off his chest, backing up half a step, and Jamie can see the challenge in her eyes. "Your break's only what?"
"Like fifteen more minutes—"
"And I have to be onstage downstairs in ten."
It's not the first time Jamie has crossed a line with a woman he met through the job but it's never escalated like this. Eddie has this irresistible pull, this energy about her that he can't figure out, and he can't look away. As she tows him away from the door he couldn't stop her even if he wanted to — not that he wants to.
Her lips crash into his once again as they stumble into the room. His hands slide lower, from the narrow of her dress where the fitted black bodice meets the flared gold skirt, over the swell of her ass where he tugs her hips against his growing arousal. The moan she lets out when he does nearly ruins him.
Eddie pulls at his tie again and this time he lets her. He chases her tongue out of his mouth as his fingers splay over the angle of her jaw, then back into her hair, which is down to her shoulders in loose, heavily sprayed curls.
Her palm leaves the front of his pants — he practically whines at the loss — and she grabs his wrist to pull his hand from her hair. "No," she tells him, breathless. "You can't mess me up."
"I will mess you up," he murmurs against her neck.
She laughs at him, kisses his lips once more and frees herself, pivoting to reach into the cosmetic bag open on the dresser. "Just take off that damn belt and get on the bed, chief."
He's never gotten rid of his vest and utility belt so fast in his life.