horny people club

He strolled into the room like he owned the place, notepad tucked under his arm, leaning against the doorframe with that lazy smirk you knew too well.

He let his eyes drag over you slow, like he was deliberately drawing out the moment before opening his mouth.

“Well, well,” he drawled, voice thick with amusement. “Ain’t this déjà vu. You sittin’ across from me, lookin’ guilty as sin.”

You rolled your eyes, already feeling the grin tugging at his lips. “I’m a witness, Miller. Not a suspect.”

Joel made a show of flipping his notebook open, clicking his pen with a sharp little snap. “Mm,” he said, all mock-serious, like he was addressing the jury. “We’ll see about that.”

He finally pushed off the door, dragging the chair back slow so the metal legs screeched across the floor just to get on your nerves.

Sitting across from you, his grin softened for just a second— before he cleared his throat and leaned in, putting his forearms on the table.

“State your full name for the record.”

You raised a brow. “You know my name.”

“Mm. Just like hearin’ you say it,” he said, smirk tugging. “Specially when it’s paired with mine.”

Your lips curved before you could help it as you said your full name, the sound catching somewhere between indulgence and exasperation.

Joel’s mouth twitched, satisfied, like he’d won something small but important.

He cleared his throat, forcing his tone flat and official. “Please describe the suspect in detail, miss.”

You tilted your head, humoring him. “Lanky. Young. Skinny. Nervous.”

Joel scribbled on the page, not bothering to look up. “Not your type, then.”

A laugh slipped out of you, soft and amused. “Lucky for you.”

Joel’s eyes flicked up at that, grin tugging wider, slow and satisfied like he’d just won something. “Damn right it is.”

You shook your head, smile tugging even as you tried to stifle it.

He clicked his pen again, leaning back like he was suddenly all business. “Alright, sweetheart. Where were you at 7pm today?”

You deadpanned. “Standing at the counter. Watching a very bad criminal fail spectacularly.”

Joel cleared his throat, leaning in like this was suddenly deadly serious. “Any witnesses to confirm that?” His eyes narrowed, but his mouth twitched. “Handsome husband, maybe?”

You gave him a flat look. “No, handsome husband.”

Joel put a hand to his chest like you’d shot him. “Ouch. That one stings.”

You arched a brow. “You’ll live.”

“Barely,” he muttered, scribbling something down that was definitely not your answer. “Damn shame, though. I could’ve made a real solid alibi.”

Your lips twitched despite yourself. “By doing what? Swearing under oath that you were too busy annoying me to notice the guy with a gun?”

His grin stretched, lazy and wolfish. “Exactly.”

You crossed your arms. “You’re enjoying this way too much.”

“Course I am,” Joel said, clicking his pen like he was settling in for the best part. “When else am I gonna get to grill my own girl under these lights?” He leaned back just enough to smirk, eyes glinting. “Makes me feel powerful.”

You snorted. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Mm,” he hummed, pretending to jot something down, lips twitching like he was holding back a laugh.

“Alright then, next question. Do you own any registered weapons? Other than…” his eyes dragged slow up and down, lazy as sin, “those eyes, damn.”

You laughed before you could stop yourself, biting it back quick. “Unbelievable.”

“Mm,” he murmured, pretending to scribble. “Unbelievably good at my job.”

He tapped the pen against his notebook, grin lazy. “Unbelievably good at a lotta things, actually. Questionin’ suspects. Givin’ orders. Givin’ you exactly what you need.”

Heat flickered in your cheeks, but you fought to keep your voice steady. “Pretty sure none of that’s in the handbook, Detective.”

Joel only smirked wider, leaning back in his chair like he had all the time in the world.

“Maybe not. But I always did go above and beyond for my cases.” His eyes dragged over you, deliberate, shameless. “Now tell me, sweetheart — this armed suspect… he wasn’t better lookin’ than me, was he? ’Cause I’ll have to put that in the report.”

The laugh tore out of you loud and sudden, head tipping back, shoulders shaking. It filled the little gray room, bouncing off the walls until even Joel had to give up the act and chuckle low in his chest.

Joel’s chuckle rumbled out, low and rough, and he shook his head. “Knew I’d get you laughin’ sooner or later.”

You wiped at the corner of your eye, still grinning. “You’re an idiot.”

“Mm,” he agreed easily, leaning back in his chair, stretching long legs out under the table until his boot brushed against your shoe. “Yet somehow, you keep me around.”

“That’s still up for debate,” you shot back, but your smile gave you away.

Joel’s eyes softened, the grin lingering, but quieter now. “But you’re alright, sweet thing? He didn’t touch you? Didn’t scare you?”

Your arms crossed again, more to steady yourself than in defiance. “Joel, I’m fine. He was barely older than a kid, and the gun probably wasn’t even loaded.”

His jaw ticked, the protective edge showing for just a beat. “Don’t matter. Gun’s a gun.” He studied you, gaze heavy, like he could peel back every layer just to make sure you were telling the truth. Then, softer: “Hate the thought of you standin’ there alone.”

Your throat worked, because this was the side of him no one else ever saw but you — the one tucked under the sarcasm, the growl, the badge.

“I wasn’t alone,” you reminded him, voice lighter, teasing. “You showed up five minutes later, all heroic.”

Joel huffed a laugh, shaking his head. “Heroic, huh? You tryin’ to sweet-talk me now?”

“Maybe I am.” You tilted your chin. “Seems to work on you.”

His grin came back, slow and wolfish. “Damn right it does. Though you oughta be careful, sweetheart…” He leaned in, voice dropping low, playful but edged with heat. “Flirtin’ with a detective? Could be a felony.”

You smirked. “Guess you’ll just have to cuff me then.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, his hand flexing around the pen like it was taking effort not to reach across the table for you right then and there. His chuckle came out low, rough. “Don’t tempt me, pretty girl.”

You arched a brow. “What, gonna put me in holding?”

He leaned forward, voice dropping low, all gravel and heat. “Holdin’s one word for it.” His eyes raked you slow, heavy with promise. “Bet I could find a few more ways to keep you… restrained.”

Your breath caught, but you masked it with a smirk. “Mm. Careful, Detective. You start talking like that, I might ask to be taken into custody.”

Joel’s eyes darkened, the grin curling slow and dangerous. “Darlin’… you’ve got no idea how close you are to gettin’ exactly that.” His pen clicked shut, the sound sharp in the quiet room. “Badge or not, darlin’, I’ve still got authority.”

He leaned back in his chair, voice rough, final. “And right now, authority says I’m gettin’ you home.”

You raised a brow, lips twitching. “Getting me home? What is this—chauffeuring part of the witness protection program now?”

Joel pushed his chair back with a scrape, standing slow. The air in the room shifted when he did, his size filling the space, his shadow swallowing yours. He leaned one hand on the table, close enough that you could feel the heat of him even before he bent down.

“Mm. Perks of bein’ my woman,” he drawled, that wink rough and deliberate. Then his mouth dipped close to your ear, voice dropping into a dangerous purr.

“Means I get to drive you home, walk you inside… and make damn sure you’re tucked in real good. With my hands. My mouth… something else.”

Your breath hitched before you could stop it, pulse kicking hard in your throat.

“Joel,” you warned, though your voice sounded thinner than you wanted.

He just smirked, his thumb dragging slow along the edge of the table, like he wanted it to be your skin. “Don’t look at me like that, pretty girl. You’re the one sittin’ here, flirtin’ with a detective. Gotta take the consequences.”

“Mm-hm.” You crossed your arms again, trying for defiance, but it only made his grin curve deeper, dirtier.

Joel straightened, snapping his notebook shut like he’d just finished the most official report of his life. He slid it across the table to you, his expression all mock-serious now.

“Alright,” he said. “Just need you to sign my notes, authorize me usin’ ’em for paperwork later.”

Suspicious, you flipped it open—and blinked.

Your name. Over and over. Hearts doodled around it, big and shameless. Like a love sick school boy.

Your laugh broke out, quick and helpless. “Joel—”

“Case closed,” he cut in smoothly, already reaching for you, his grin wicked. “Now let’s get you home. I got a whole new line of… investigatin’ to do.”

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