Chapter 1

“Could you please not do that in my office?”

I looked up. Smoke curled from between my fingers, tumbled in a grey curtain from my mouth. I raised my eyebrows.

“Do what?” I asked, before placing the lit cigarette back between my lips.

“Smoke. It’s disgusting and it makes the place reek.”

I stared at the man in front of me, eyebrows still raised.

“Paxton, I’m not wasting this smoke.”

Paxton’s expression didn’t waiver. “Then smoke it outside. And I don’t mean outside my office, I mean outside the building.”

I narrowed my eyes into slits at him. “Please, Paxton? It’s one cigarette.

His eyes met mine. I widened my own and pouted my lip, hoping the routine that worked on every other police officer would work on him. He sighed in resignation.

“Fine. But don’t get used to this. This is a one time thing, Saylem.”

I slipped the cigarette back into my mouth. “Thank you, Drew.”

“You’re going to kill yourself, Isabelle.”

Drew Paxton. Thirty two years young. With the police force of New York City for over ten years, he is an experienced cop that knows his place amongst his peers and coworkers, and fits in well with the other cops at his level. Not to mention that he’s incredibly sexy. Drew is lightly tanned, with hazel eyes and brown hair that usually gets caught in his eyelashes. Sharp jawline. Square face.

Maybe that’s why I’ve been sleeping with him for the last three years.

On the other end of the spectrum is I, Isabelle Saylem. Brown hair, blue eyes, average weight. Strong features and a sharp jaw. Only child, spoiled to death by rich parents. Brought up with little contact to either my mother or father and raised by a nanny, moving to New York seemed to be my only way of escaping with a shred of my dignity. I’ve always had the need to rebel, to rebel against society and my parents. That’s how the whole ‘smoke a pack a day’ habit started. It was a way to act out without getting myself arrested.

No one likes it when I smoke. Especially not Drew.

“I'm fine right now. I’m only 25, I have a few more years left in me.”

Paxton raised his eyebrows. “Izzy, you’d have about fifty or sixty more years left in you if you gave up smoking.”

I sighed, pulled out a chair across from Drew’s desk. Ash fell from my cigarette and landed on the leg of my jeans. I smudged it away. Smoke trailed out of my mouth.

“I can’t quit. I’d die. I’ve been smoking since I was fifteen. I won’t stop until I’m dead.” I looked around his desk. “You have an ashtray?”

Drew looked up. “Do I look like I have an ashtray?”

I ignored his sarcasm, leaned over, and tapped the side of the cigarette over his coffee mug. Flecks of ash fell into the liquid inside. Paxton sighed.

“Isabelle, that was my coffee.” He said. I took a drag and exhaled a cloud of grey.

“I needed an ashtray. I didn’t want to get ash on your floor.” I said innocently.

“You wouldn’t have to worry about the ash if you would just stop smo-” Drew never finished his sentence. A loud ‘plunk’ interrupted him. I watched him inhale deeply, “Why?”

“Why what?” I asked, the nicotine contained in the cigarette already working its wonders on my brain.

“Why did you just drop your cigarette butt in my coffee?”

I shrugged. “It needed to go somewhere.”

“Isabelle…”

“I’m going to go, Drew. I’ll see you later.” I said, smiling as I stood and began my flight from the room. Drew’s brow flash caught my eye.

“Tonight?”

I contemplated. “Tonight’s my yoga night.” I said sadly. He shrugged.

“Tomorrow night?”

I grinned. “You’re on.”

Drew winked in response.

~**~

My shoulders slowly raised, the muscles rolling back as I rose into a standing position. The doorbell sounded again. I sighed and stepped off of my yoga mat, smoothing the top of my sports bra. I made my way to the door, pulling open the panel of wood. I couldn't help but raise my eyebrows when I saw who was on the other side.

“Hello.”

Drew Paxton smiled and pushed past me into my apartment. I rolled my eyes.

“Hi.” I said, closing the door behind me as I followed him in. He stopped just in front of my yoga mat, then turned, taking in my appearance. Pink sports bra, pink yoga pants. Pack of cigarettes in one pocket, lighter in the other. I raised my eyebrows. “Why are you here?”

“Came to visit. Tomorrow is so far away, Isabelle.” He said. There was something in his tone that I just couldn't place my finger on.

“I told you tonight was my yoga night.” I reminded him. Drew stepped closer to me, his own eyebrows raised. He reached out his hands and placed them on my hips, his thumbs brushing my bare midriff. He pulled me close to him.

“Like I said, Izzy. Tomorrow is so far away.”

I looked up directly into hazel eyes. Drew's hips touched mine. His lips met my own. I kissed back, let my arms reach up around his neck and draw his mouth closer to me, while he held me steady by the hips.

Allow me to clear something up for you. Outside of the police department, Drew and I have no personal relationship. Yes, we have sex with each other on a regular basis, almost every day. Despite that fact, we have never dated. I have never gone to dinner with him outside of business meetings, or if he happens to be at my house and we're both hungry. I have never told him I love him, probably because I don't. We have never kissed without lust being the driving force behind our movements. We're basically friends with benefits. We have sex when we please, and that's as far as it goes.

It's a million times better than being in a committed relationship. Not that I've slept with anyone else besides him in three years. He's cute and great in bed. What more could I ask for?

Drew's fingers traced my belly button, went towards the hem of my sports bra. I fingered the buttons of his dress shirt.

“Why do we do this?” He whispered against my mouth. I shrugged, continued to unbutton his shirt. The dark blue fabric fell to the hardwood floor. My hands went to his neck. Drew kissed my collarbone.

“Relief?” I suggested. Drew brought his face back to mine.

“From?”

I kissed his lips and went for his belt. “Work? Life? Stress?”

Drew lifted the sports bra over my head. He didn't answer. Instead, he stared at my bare upper half and smiled.

“What?” I asked.

“Isabelle Saylem, you are beautiful.”

His lips touched mine again before I could muster a response. My arms went to his neck, and I felt myself being pushed backward into the kitchen. Far away from my room. I detached my mouth from his.

“Where are you going?”

“I was thinking we could try the kitchen table.”

Author's Note

~**~
So hi there.
This story may not seem to be mystery currently.
But I'm only establishing relationships.
There will be mystery.
I promise.
<3