Double Standards, page 8
Just as I was about to climax, there was a knock on my closet door. I froze, my orgasm halted.
Fuck.
Chapter 4

Liam
I sat at the desk in my hotel room, staring at the wall out of pure boredom. I was purposefully ignoring technology, and Lord knew I needed a break from it.
I was beyond mentally exhausted after today. I had exerted so much energy and had nothing left to give, so the thought of engaging myself on social media seemed like a tedious chore I wasn’t willing to do.
The day had felt like a roller coaster of emotions with Callie. Aside from trying to acquaint myself with a new city, I now had to work with her mercurial moods. One second she didn’t mind me, the next it was back to scolding me. I couldn’t believe I spent almost eleven hours with her today, nor how quickly we worked to solve that case together.
I could tell Callie was carrying the darkness of the Wring Bearer case on her petite shoulders. I knew beneath all her layers, there was immense turmoil, and I wondered if it was more than just this case eating at her. I enjoyed the puzzle aspect of my job, so perhaps that explained my deep interest in my new partner’s complex behavior. At least, that’s what I told myself. It was that I was romantically interested in her. No, definitely not that.
My phone buzzed from the bed, the noise breaking my reverie. I pushed myself up from the desk and walked over to the nightstand. I raised my phone so the screen would wake up, and when it did, the notification surprised me. It was from Facebook, saying that Callie Eden wanted to send me a message.
I opened the app and accepted her request. She had sent me a GIF of a guy in a bandana and fake mustache saying, “Howdy, partner.” I laughed out loud. So much for no social media tonight.
I attached a GIF of Napoleon Dynamite saying, “Howdy.” I wanted to keep the theme and match her tone. I watched as the little typing bubbles popped up.
Callie: I debated messaging you tonight, but wanted to thank you for today.
I frowned. For today? I wasn’t sure what she was referring to, but before I could think too much about it another message popped up.
Callie: Welcome to the team. We may operate differently, but it’s nice to have another perspective. :-)
I grinned. Maybe this was all I needed tonight. I typed out several different messages but deleted them all. I couldn’t decide if I wanted to be flirty, cocky, professional, cordial or any combination of the four.
I went for a mix of cordial and flirty. She was cute, and some part of me wanted her to know it.
Me: Glad you messaged me. My day feels complete now. ;)
I felt a little bit out of my league. It had been a really long time since I’d flirted with anyone over social media. I was with my ex-wife for most of my twenties, and before that I had no problems picking up women. Since last Christmas, I’d only slept with a handful of women. I just wasn’t expecting to end up working with the first lay I had after I filed for divorce.
Callie didn’t respond for a few minutes, so I took the opportunity to click on her profile. Her profile picture was so staged it looked like a stock photo. She wore a dark grey pantsuit with a royal blue button up shirt. Her hair was neatly curled and she was smiling at the camera. It dawned on me that it was her employee photo. I wasn’t sure why it didn’t surprise me, but it did make me chuckle.
Callie: By the way, thanks for not letting me fall into a pile of trash. It’s worse than dealing with dead bodies!
I laughed, finally taking a seat on the edge of the bed. She was practically setting me up to flirt with her. If this were merely a professional courtesy, the conversation would have ended at her previous message. Might as well take the opportunity.
Me: Well, a gentleman would never let that happen. I had to keep up my chivalrous streak with you.
I paused before sending the next message.
Because fucking you in a museum’s back office during a Christmas party is admirably chivalrous.
I took a deep breath as I anxiously awaited her reply. I knew we shouldn’t center our work relationship around the one time we had slept together, but it was hard not to. She was a fan-fucking-tastic lay, incredibly smart, insanely sexy, and even funny at times. It was hard not to want her like that again.
I felt that way last year, and I felt it again now. I had no idea how I was going to function as her partner, but I knew I had no choice but to figure out a way. It wasn’t fair for me to feel this—
Callie: Admittedly, it was probably the most lady-like thing I’d ever done. Plus, it was for a good cause.
I let out a harsh laugh at her response before reading her next one.
The gesture was much appreciated.
Me: Which one, the Christmas party, or saving you from falling into a pile of trash?
Callie: I’ll let you decipher that one, Detective. :-)
Me: If it’s any consolation, I meant what I said earlier. I hope your boyfriend appreciates what he has.
Even though the conversation hadn’t escalated too much, it was exciting me. Apparently my dry spell made it easier for me to get an erection. I glanced down at myself, suddenly irritated at how aroused I was.
I’d like to think she could do better than her boyfriend, but I knew nothing about the guy.
Callie: He does, in his own ways, I suppose.
My heart sank at her response. It was vague, but if he couldn’t appreciate the woman he had, he certainly didn’t deserve to be with her. Obviously I didn’t know the details of their relationship, and it wasn’t my place to judge…
I decided to reply with something that would hopefully make her smile.
Me: I’d like to think it’s my irresistible charm :)
Callie: Haha. It certainly works in your favor (and mine). Anyway, I should get to bed. NOW it’s past my bedtime… goodnight. XO
Me: Goodnight! :)
XO? My heart accelerated. She wasn’t really thinking like that… was she? The thought certainly didn’t help my erection situation. Maybe a shower would help.
I groaned and dragged myself to the bathroom. I climbed into the warm stream and let the water pour over me. A cold shower would have been most beneficial, but a vision popped in my head that I couldn’t bring myself to ignore.
Callie’s beautiful curves and how she looked naked and bent over. I remembered the way she moaned and how she felt pulsing around me. I leaned against the shower tiles, beginning to touch myself. I envisioned her standing in front of me with water pouring down her back, off her red lipstick-clad mouth, wetting her long hair.
“Fuck,” I cursed as I stroked myself. I leaned into the pleasure, wishing she were touching me instead.
My phone buzzed loudly from the counter, breaking me out of my fantasy. Excited at the thought that it was Callie again, I opened the shower curtain to peer at the name on the screen, only to be utterly disappointed. It was equivalent to taking a cold shower.
Victoria Monet had texted me. In other words, my ex-wife.
Callie
“Callie, are you decent now? Dinner’s ready,” Owen called through the door. Like I said, we hardly saw each other naked.
Decent? I almost laughed out loud. How old was he?
I was scared of moving my fingers, even to pull them out of my panties, fearing that I would climax with Owen on the other side of the door. So, instead I responded with, “No, I’m still changing.”
“Are you feeling aright? You sound flustered.”
I sighed. “I’m alright, Owen. I’ll be out for dinner in a few minutes.”
I heard his footsteps shuffling away from the door, followed by the gentle closing of my bedroom door. I was both relieved and incredibly irritated about my interrupted orgasm. On one hand, at least now I didn’t have to feel awkward around Liam since I didn’t actually finish to him. Well, not this time.
On the other hand, I knew I desperately needed that release, and once again Owen interfered with my pleasure. It seemed to be the story of my life, the bane of my existence.
I quickly pulled on my pajamas, opting out of wearing a bra. My choice of clothing was completely deliberate: loose, not rubbing against any sensitive parts of my body that may send me spiraling into an unexpected orgasm.
I pulled my hair into a messy ponytail and removed my makeup, feeling light on my feet as the alcohol hit me.
I sulked out to the kitchen and plopped down at the breakfast bar, where a large plate of spaghetti awaited me. My stomach grumbled and I dug in immediately, realizing I hadn’t eaten all day.
“You really should eat more at work,” Owen said, as if reading my mind. He was frowning down at his own meal, his face devoid of any emotion, and somehow it felt ominous.
I simply chose to ignore him, eating until there was nothing left on my plate.
“I’m going to bed early. Goodnight, Owen,” I murmured as I put my dishes in the dishwasher.
“But—,” he started.
“I’ve had a really long day,” I interrupted before going back into my bedroom and locking the door behind me.
About an hour later, I was bored watching TV. I was drunk, lonely, and missed the feeling of being touched and held by a man.
I mentally slapped myself. Why was that so fucking important to me?
All I knew was it was what I needed, and rather than try to get it from my boyfriend on the other side of the apartment, I did something I shouldn’t have.
I searched for Liam on Facebook, and found his profile within seconds. His profile picture was him standing in some sort of vineyard, but I couldn’t see a sign anywhere that would indicate where he was.
My drunken fingers were quicker than my brain. I used the GIF keyboard to find a silly, lighthearted GIF. I chuckled to myself, and waited to see if he would respond.
It didn’t take him more than a minute to respond with a GIF of Napoleon Dynamite.
I snickered, and typed out a polite message to him. I didn’t expect anything to come from the conversation, I just didn’t want to feel completely alone like I did every night.
Me: I debated messaging you tonight, but wanted to thank you for today.
I typed out a second message and pressed SEND before I could change my mind.
Welcome to the team. We may operate differently, but it’s nice to have another perspective. :-)
I saw he read the message right away and began typing. I felt giddy, and couldn’t resist smiling from ear to ear. I hadn’t felt this excited about messaging a guy since high school.
While my statements were true, I knew it would be an adjustment working with him. We’d have to make a lot of compromises in order to make this an effective partnership.
Liam: Glad you messaged me. My day feels complete now. ;)
I gasped softly at the emoji he attached. A winking face? Knowing what I knew about my partner, which was very little, he meant for this to be flirtatious.
Not that sneaky.
I smiled at my phone as my inebriated self took over the rest of the conversation. I thanked him in my next message for not letting me fall into trash and made a comment about how it was worse than dealing with dead bodies.
Which was true.
Liam: Well, a gentleman would never let that happen. I had to keep up my chivalrous streak with you.
Because fucking you in a museum’s back office during a Christmas party is admirably chivalrous.
His back-to-back messages released a whole swarm of butterflies in my stomach. I wanted to school-girl scream from excitement at his response. I was even more irked about my halted climax than I was before now that I was confronting these wayward hormones.
Me: Admittedly, it was probably the most lady-like thing I’d ever done. Plus, it was for a good cause.
The gesture was much appreciated.
I reeled at his humor, but decided to play into it. It left my insides writhing. I knew this was wrong, and that I shouldn’t have felt this way, but I couldn’t resist. We exchanged another message before…
Liam: If it’s any consolation, I meant what I said earlier. I hope your boyfriend appreciates what he has.
I exhaled sharply. Why did he have to bring Owen up? Wasn’t it obvious I was trying to forget Owen? Should I be honest and tell him the reality of my situation? How it felt like I was living in Hell every single day? How I felt suffocated? How he genuinely scared me earlier? Or would it just sound like I was looking for a way out simply because I was attracted to someone else?
I decided to respond in a way that would make it clear I knew that the relationship was fizzling out, but also that I was taking accountability for falling prey to infidelity.
Liam: I’d like to think it’s my irresistible charm :)
Relieved at his lighter response, I sent a goodnight message and what I was hoping would pass as an inside joke. Throwing in the XO part wasn’t part of the plan, but, my drunken mind had taken over. At that point, though, I was completely exhausted. I plugged my phone in and rolled over to go to sleep, not even bothering to see if he responded.
My alarm blared in my ear, jolting me awake. I was lying on my stomach, so I reached over to grab my phone and shut it off. Through squinted eyes in my dark room, I saw a Facebook message notification. When my phone scanned my face, I saw that it was from Liam.
I flipped onto my back and sat upright so fast it would threaten Usain Bolt’s Olympic career. I immediately regretted the motion as a headache greeted me. I hissed through my teeth as I gingerly touched my throbbing temples before opening the message from Liam.
Liam: Goodnight! :)
I gasped in horror. Smiley faces? Emojis? I scrolled up through the messages and read them all, realizing I’d now have to be somewhat nice to him.
Shit.
I leaped out of bed, popped a few ibuprofen in my mouth, and raced to get in the shower. I scrubbed my body over and over again, hoping to cleanse my aura enough to feel prepared to face Liam today. Between my masturbation to thoughts of him and then the messages, I felt like I was bound to have an interesting day.
I stepped out of the shower, twisted my hair into a towel, and got ready.
I rushed out of the door, giving Owen a half-hearted kiss on the cheek as I fled the apartment. He gave my outfit a double take, paired with a scowl. I’d worn it multiple times before without an issue, so I chalked it up to his newfound jealousy, not bothering to make a scene.
I wore a white button down shirt-dress, with cuffed semi-flare sleeves, wrap wrists, pleated panels on the skirt, and a collared neck, paired with my nude pantyhose and black heeled Chelsea boots. It was a modern yet modest look, and since I knew I was doing my report today for yesterday’s case, I knew it was alright that I wore a dress.
Terry texted as I left to meet him down in the morgue, so I rushed to get to work as early as I could. I was grateful for the excuse to go since I was avoiding my problems with Owen. I told myself that it was because of me, not because I wanted more from him. I ignored the feeling that last night was some sort of revelation that I desired more than I could have. Maybe my feelings for him weren’t what I thought. Maybe when I told him I loved him, what I meant was—
The elevator doors opened and revealed my partner, bright eyed and bushy tailed. I wasn’t sure why, but I was completely caught off guard to see him in there. Perhaps it was just because I wasn’t ready to face him yet. The second I did, my breath hitched. Sweat pricked at my palms as I tentatively stepped onto the elevator, drinking in his tight-fitted sage green button up, slim white slacks, and brown dress shoes.
Oh, fuck, that shirt really brings out his eyes.
I didn’t miss the quick once-over he did of my own outfit as I joined him in the elevator.
“Howdy, partner,” he greeted, his voice husky.
The corners of my lips tipped up. “Good morning,” I replied. I softly cleared my throat as I pushed the button to take us down to the morgue. I knew we didn’t have long in the elevator, and I wasn’t sure if I was disappointed or relieved by that fact.
I whirled to face him just as he stepped toward me, bringing us nearly face to face. “Liam,” I breathed. “We shouldn’t.”
“We aren’t,” he quipped, his tone matching mine as he backed me against the wall. We never touched, but we were close enough that I could feel his heat, smell his delectable scent, and see just how breathtaking his eyes were.
The elevator doors slid open, but he made no attempt to move. We just kept staring at each other, me frozen because of his proximity and fear that I would do something I couldn’t take back if I moved. Finally, he stepped away from me and off the elevator. I exhaled audibly, unaware I’d been holding my breath, before I followed him into the morgue.
“Ah, great, you’re both here,” Terry said with relief. He stood by the coroner, who was here surprisingly early. “Dr. Hathaway has an interesting finding to share with the both of you.”
I nervously looked at Dr. Hathaway, his kind brown eyes flicking to a covered body on the table in front of us. I wondered what he was about to share with us.
“You two retrieved a sample from an alleyway yesterday, am I right?” He asked us.
