Officer Heartley is a cop.
Descriptions
That’s because Officer Carlton Heartley was so manly it hurt, his rough-hewn face sending a shiver of desire up Avery’s spine. Avery blushed and giggled, forgetting that he had called Heartley here for a serious purpose.
Heartley walked in chewing on his cheek, square jaw working up and down like he had tobacco in his lip — he didn’t, it just always looked like that. He had shoulders so broad he walked awkwardly, like his body didn’t know how to take its own heft.
“What seems to be the trouble, suh?” he asked, his voice just a bit raspy and so baritone it echoed pleasingly in Avery’s ears. He had an adorably stilted way of talking, because he was uncomfortable talking to small men. He was flustered when Avery casually took his callused hand in Avery’s own. His giant palms and fingers were rough from overwork.
“I was robbed!” Avery ran through the details, tears suddenly overcoming him. He gripped Heartley’s leatherlike paw the size of a baseball mitt as he spoke. “Somebody broke into my shop!”
Heartley was built like an ox with arms like branches and a chest as broad as a boat. He obviously fancied himself a bodybuilder — you could tell by the way he carried himself — but he wasn’t that disciplined because he was married and had kids and a mortgage and probably a dog — something manly, like a rottweiler, Avery assumed. So he didn’t have a perfect bodybuilder’s body, which was just fine with Avery, who preferred his men to have a layer of thickness.
That was exactly what Heartley had: a layer of thickness. That and a jet-black mustache as luxurious as a silkworm’s cocoon. His face was a little too square, like God had hoped to give him that square-jawed action-hero look but ended up giving him more of a blockish caveman-face with thick bones and heavy feet.
He suddenly twitched and murmured an apology, feeling his backside to make sure his shirt was tucked in. His big barrel chest barely fit in it, so it often came undone. He had been scolded for it before, because people — women — called to complain about his untucked shirt, the occasional sweat stains under his armpit and his undershirt being visible from under the uniform shirt.
Nobody had flirted with Officer Heartley in what felt like forever, not since the eons-ago time he dimly recalled: bachelorhood. He had been free then. He’d had a six-pack, and women threw themselves at him. Women thought his muscles were sexy, and his chest hair was cute.From Avery the Detective
“Sorry to hear about ya troubles, sir,” Officer Heartley said with the most delightfully full-bodied voice, all baritone echoes emanating from beneath his scruffy throat, a somewhat awkward tremble to it — he was one of those delightfully strong men who weren’t swaggerous and cocky. While Avery loved an alpha guy, a little note of unconfidence made it even hotter. “So you sure there ain’t nothin’ else missin’?”
From Macho Alphas