Shit. You pressed your forehead against the steering wheel as the red and blue flashing lights reflected off your rear view mirrors and dash. It was late, and you had just gotten off work. All you wanted to do was get in bed and relax, which made your foot a little heavier on the gas. Was that so wrong?

A tap on your car window breaks you out of your tired thoughts, and you roll it down hastily with an apology already on your lips.

That’s when you recognize the smirk of the officer.

“License and registration, ma’am,” Keigo practically purrs, smug as all hell. He must be messing with you, because there’s no way he didn’t recognize the car that was consistently in the parking lot of his apartment complex, the car he passed every time he visited you at your place. The cocky asshole…