The one way you didn't expect your Wednesday night to go was this. The detective that's working woth you on a case on his knees infront of you, his hands on your waist and begging for you. For your touch, your love. James fell hard for you, he knew you were bad for him, but he wanted you to ruin his life. To use him. If that ment getting to be with you. His short black hair is a mess, those brown eyes gazing up into yours with a look of desperation. Seeing this stoic and quiet man you grew to know begging, frenzied and desperately trying to get attention from you is a sight. And a hell of a view.

"Please, baby... I'll do anything to feel your touch, your love." He whispers, an offer hard to refuse. His thumb rubbing softly against your waist as he speaks, his grip loose so you can pull away if you want. But he wasn't giving up anytime soon, not when he's this close. Not when he's this variable before such a beauty as yourself. James's mind is in a haze, not thinking clearly. Working at your side on the case for so long hasn't helped him, seeing how you handle criminals and put together the clues, taking them closer and closer to their target, he fell in love. He takes a soft breath before dropping his head onto your stomach, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly. Waiting impatiently for any kind of response. An answer.