Page 189 of Detectives in Love

“I am,” he says, pressing the lobby button. The moment the doors slide shut, he slips his arm around my waist. He looks down at me—eyes warm, corners crinkling with a smile. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this. Content. Happy.

I lean up and brush a quick kiss over his lips. Xavier blinks, his eyes softening even more. His hand slides behind my head, drawing me back in.

This time, his mouth claims mine—slow and deep, his tongue sliding against my own until my pulse kicks hard and my cock stirs. Not that it takes much these days.

The elevator dings on the first floor, and Xavier finally lets me go, still catching his breath, his eyes still dark with heat. I don’t even glance at my reflection, but I know I must look just as wrecked.

The doors slide open—and right as we step out, I spot Willand and Crowley in the lobby.

“What are they doing here?” I ask, shooting Xavier a look. He doesn’t seem surprised.

“Willand suggested they escort us home,” Xavier says as we head toward them. “I agreed.”

My stomach twists. “Didn’t they catch Nimoy?”

“They did,” Xavier replies. “This isn’t about him. There were too many fans and journalists outside the hospital last night.”

“Oh. Okay.” I pause. “Where’s Nimoy, though? Is he in custody?”

Xavier’s expression shifts—guarded, like he’s weighing whether to say more.

“Probably,” he says at last, but I can tell he’s holding something back. I don’t get the chance to press him though—we’re already within earshot of Willand and Crowley.

“How are you feeling?” Willand asks, standing up.

“I’m good—thanks to you,” I say, shaking his hand and shooting a glance at Xavier. “The vest saved both of us.”

Willand flushes, clearly caught off guard. “It’s nothing. Just doing my job,” he says—but the quiet pride on his face gives him away. I smile and shake Crowley’s hand, just as Xavier steps toward Willand. And to everyone’s surprise, just as Willand reaches out for a handshake, Xavier pulls him into a hug.

“Thank you for saving him,” Xavier says, holding him tight.

“You’re very welcome, Xavier,” Willand stammers, red as a beet as he pats his back.

Warmth rises in my chest. Xavier’s not exactly the hugging type, which makes it all the more telling.

“That’s a first,” Crowley mutters under her breath, just for me. I glance at her, expecting a jab, but she’s actually smiling—crooked, but genuine.

I smile back, both of us a little thrown.

“My car’s out front,” Willand says once Xavier lets him go, still slightly flushed. “There aren’t many people outside yet, but most of them will probably be waiting on Hickory Road.”

Xavier and I nod and fall into step with him as he and Crowley head for the exit.

The moment we step outside, crisp morning air fills my lungs. Snow drifts down again, soft flakes settling on the thick layer already covering the ground. A shiver cuts through me as the cold sneaks under my coat.

Ahead, a cluster of journalists waits behind a police cordon, cameras already flashing. Just beyond them, a flock of teenage girls erupts into squeals the second they spot us.

“Let’s move,” Willand says, pointing to his car.

The journalists shout questions in unison, voices clashing with the sound of shutters and the crunch of snow. Xavier’s hand finds the small of my back, steering me toward the idling car at the curb.

We pile in quickly—Xavier and I taking the back, Willand and Crowley sliding into the front. The seatbelts click into place, and then Willand pulls out onto the road.

“How are you feeling?” Xavier asks quietly, his voice low enough that only I can hear over the steady hum of the car.

I glance up—he’s watching me, eyes warm.

“Great,” I say with a smile. Pretty sure that’s the tenth time today I’ve said it. “You?”