So I’m lying in a bed, and my chest hurts like hell. That’s all I know, so I must have just woken up. I open my eyes and open my mouth to whinge about the pain – and there’s a cop next to me. Farking hell! Instead of whingeing, I scream – or try to. All that comes out is a whimper and a whole new vista of pain. Tears stream down my face as I try to get up and run away.
“You’re tied down, love,” comes one of the sexiest husky voices I’ve ever heard. Woo mama! I look around through my tears to work out where this sex-goddess nurse is hiding, but not a sign of a nurse’s uniform. Then it occurs to me to stop struggling and look behind the cop. Nup. Oh, fark. It’s the cop. She’s smiling at me and she’s gorgeous and there’s a wisp of blond hair escaping from her cap. And my chances of getting her into bed are just plain stuffed as I sniffle pathetically with tears still dripping down my cheeks and snot flowing out of my nose.
She leans forward to press a call button, and her uniform shirt gapes a little at the chest. Holy mother! Drool just adds to the mess my face has become. On the bright side, at least I know my package is intact. She raises an eyebrow at the tent in the bedclothes and smothers a smirk.
I’m in love.