Don't Need a Hero (Protect and Serve 5)

Don't Need a Hero (Protect and Serve)
Second Edition
Lena Austin
All rights reserved.
Copyright ©2023 Lena Austin

The shadowy figure leaned against the wall and gave me the accolade of a quiet "golf clap." Whoever he was, he was six feet of lean muscle on long, blue-jean clad legs, wearing a well-loved pair of sneakers in need of cleaning. "Thank you, Miss Oakes."

Gratified, I leaned back against my pillows and took a quick sip of water. "You're welcome, whoever you are. However, if you're another ambulance chaser, you can follow his ass to hell. "

A scent tickled my sensitive nose, and I inhaled a little deeper, trying not to be obvious. What the hell did I smell? Whatever it was, my body reacted faster than my head. I was instantly hornier than a three-peckered billy goat scenting a whole herd of she-goats. Want didn't quite cover my body's reaction to the new visitor. I needed to put my butt in the air and yowl like I was in heat. Yeah, like instant heat. As I was in my human form, I'd probably need a soaker pad under my horny ass very soon.

Mr. Sexy Scent shook his head, but detached himself from the wall and sauntered into the room like he owned the hospital. He was grace and power personified, all presented in one sleek, elegant package. Light brown hair streaked with sunlight and the permanent tan only blessed upon folks born and raised in the sunshine declared him a native. His eyes were hazel, both brown and green simultaneously. He didn't smile, but I got an impression of easy good humor about him. "Nope, but I probably shouldn't be here either. I'll have to ask permission once I've introduced myself, if you don't toss me out like that snake who just left." His southern drawl was smoother than the frozen custard they served at the zoo, all creamy and delicious.

I bet myself females tried to trip him and beat him to the floor with their legs spread every day of the week. Hell, if I weren't laid up, I'd be begging to stand in line for the privilege. Consequently, my lust pissed me off. He was probably used to every female between puberty and menopause having hard nips and wet butts within five miles of him, and I'd be damned if I'd be another notch on a tattered belt. "Yeah, maybe you'd better tell me who you are." Since when had my voice become that breathless and soft? Oh, shit.

The sleepy jaguars at the zoo had that same look in their eyes, like they were sizing you up as either prey or to determine if you measured up to some high standard only they understood. He stood close to the foot of my bed, neither crowding nor threatening me. "My name's Officer Apollo Jones, and I'm one of the police you just defended, Miss Oakes."

My mind fogged and my jaw slowly fell open. I prodded myself mentally to make some intelligent comment, but inside my head I was on my knees sucking his cock until he begged for mercy. All I managed was a strangled, "Oh." I bit my lip before I said anything stupid like comparing him to the sun god of the same name. He'd probably had that twisted on him since grade school.

Whatever lust god had hold of me, the same asshole had the cop's dick too. He'd been looking into my eyes like he'd seen something profound in them. Shit, they were just a big round pair of baby blues stuck above a nose so short someone had asked me if my dad had flattened my face with a wall. Like I knew who my dad was. I was a show-quality Himalayan, all looks and no personality required. Somehow, all that fancy-schmancy breeding crap made my human face desirable. Most men just drooled and grabbed until my steel toes connected with their nuts to remind them I had a brain and a heart.

Funny thing was, this time the lust was mutual. The kielbasa in his pants was growing faster than kudzu in the palmetto scrub. He blinked and visibly controlled himself. "Sorry. I guess you're used to men telling you how beautiful you are."

Not the way he thought. I cleared my throat and quickly took another swallow of water. I gave a tiny shake of my head. "Not really. Most see my hard hat and steel toes and make all the stereotypical assumptions. They also feel it's their God-given duty to put me back on the straight and narrow and that I'd automatically welcome the lessons. Blech."

"Here." He set my favorite white chocolate mocha coffee from the Holy Grounds coffee shop downstairs on the table in front of me. Figures that Baptist Hospital would name their coffee shop that. "Hope you don't mind real cream." He waved to the chair Rat had used earlier. "May I?"

I pounced on the coffee and sniffed the heavenly odor that didn't mask the delicious aroma of pure male. Coffee and Apollo Whatever-his-last-name-was was now my favorite perfume. I think both of us knew he shouldn't be in the hospital room with me, but we were conspirators against the media and assholes like Rusty Rose and his ilk. Besides, he brought me coffee. With real cream. "Dude, I always try to be nice to the boys in blue. Have a seat." I saluted him with my cup.