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It was a grey mid afternoon in autumn when Jack realised that he was well and truly screwed.
Nikki had asked him to drive back from the scene because the acrid smoke had irritated her contact lenses. He didn't mind. In fact he liked driving. He liked driving with Nikki in the passenger seat.
She’d rushed to shower and change, and had scrubbed in for the autopsy while he got straight on with cataloguing evidence. He'd seen her, probably an hour later, examining something under a microscope. Her back had been turned to him so he hadn't noticed.
He'd found her later at her desk. He wasn't sure why he was surprised, really. He knew she wore contacts and that the smoke had irritated them. It was entirely logical that she'd have glasses on. But fuck. He had NOT expected her to look that good. He had not expected to feel wrong-footed by just being in the same room as her. Dammit.
He couldn't remember what he'd said. Probably something that was supposed to be funny. He'd like to think she thought him clever and witty. But she'd looked at him over the rims—a mix of amusement and admonishment—and Christ if it wasn't suddenly very hot in the Lyell.
Leo had saved him, then, by interrupting with an update on another case. It didn't seem like Leo was going to save him now.
The lead on the arson case, and his dour hanger-on, had arrived at 3pm as agreed, and the meeting was—to the outside observer—going well. Information was being shared, a plan formed to progress the investigation. Jack however had contributed very little. Because for the last twenty minutes he had not taken his eyes off Nikki.
He understood the glasses thing in principle. The sexy secretary. The sexy librarian. The sexy scientist. The quiet ones with hidden depths. As a trope it made for good TV shows. Good movies. Occasionally good porn, although it wasn't his go to. But in practice? Hell, Nikki in glasses was something else.
He had watched her take the lead role, as she often did even when Leo was around. Watched as she'd variously pushed the frames up onto the top of her head, lowered them again to look at the screen, and slid them back up her nose with one finger on the bridge.
He'd let Clarissa cover the main points, and nodded in agreement with whatever Nikki said. When she'd looked directly at him, he felt the blush spread up his neck.
When she'd slipped the glasses off altogether and rubbed the end of the arm along her bottom lip, he’d stifled a groan. Then she'd looked at him and sucked on it gently. Fuck.
And now here he was, cock hard against the button fly of his jeans, struggling to remember to breathe, and clueless as to the next steps in the investigation. Well and truly screwed, in every possible way.
He couldn't get up and leave, feigning a headache or something, because there was no way of hiding what was going on under the table. He was stuck here until the meeting finished and everyone left the room.
But he couldn't contribute anything more to the meeting. And there was every chance his colleagues had picked up on his odd behaviour. Especially Clarissa, who he didn't dare look at; she probably knew exactly what was going on. He vaguely hoped Nikki hadn't noticed. That she'd been too focused on her presentation.
Nikki. Christ. What was he going to do about Nikki? How was he going to work with her knowing that she only had to look at him to make him hard?
He knew what he wanted to do, which he should absolutely not think about now. Not in a meeting with a room full of people. But fuck. She put the glasses back on, low on her nose, clichéd as it was. And his mind betrayed him. He gripped the arms of his chair as the scene played out and everyone else faded into the background. His private Nikki fantasy.
Nikki walking towards him, her shirt cut a little lower than reality and her heels a little higher. Nudging his legs wider so she stood close. Leaning over him, sliding a hand appreciatively over his bicep. Dropping to her knees, eyes locked on his. Gathering her hair into a ponytail and straightening her glasses. Running both hands up his thighs, skirting the bulge in his jeans, and fingertips slipping under his t-shirt. Nails scraping over his abs.
He resisted shifting in his chair as his cock twitched under the table. He risked a glance at the real Nikki. It didn't help.
Nikki undoing his belt buckle. Nikki’s hot hands teasing him as she gradually unbuttoned his flies. Nikki taking him in her mouth—
“Anything else from you Jack?”
Fuck. What? Leo had just asked him something, and everyone was looking at him.
“Er, no. That's everything.” His voice sounded gritty, strung out.
“Great, well we'll wrap up for now then. I'll see you all out.”
Leo was followed out of the room by the two coppers. Clarissa sped after them. Nikki reached across the table for the various papers they'd shared during the meeting, giving Jack a glorious view straight down her top.
This time he groaned out loud. He just couldn't help himself. Nikki looked at him, slightly concerned, over the rims of those goddamn glasses. It took everything he had not to reach for her. Not to drag her across the table and pull her against him.
“You ok, Jack?” She stood back up, shuffling the papers into a neat pile. Then she placed them down carefully.
His reply was a non-committal grunt, which caused her to look more concerned and to make her way around to his side of the table.
She sat on the edge of the table, right next to his chair. Her thigh brushed his hand, still gripping the arm. He looked at his pale knuckles against the dark fabric of her jeans. Wondered if he could get away with a more deliberate touch.
“Jack?”
He looked up at her. She gathered her hair into a ponytail and straightened her glasses.