Jim Gordon

She could only emit a muffled acknowledgement of Jim's suggestion, an almost-whimper beginning in the back of her throat as she hungrily tugged him backward, ripping his undershirt almost in half in an attempt to get it off his shoulders, hands running across the expanse of his well-muscled torso and arms before falling lower to pull at and undo his belt and suit trousers. No care was given to the fact that she was almost fully dressed at this point; if anything, it only heightened her arousal as she began to lay claim upon her partner in the most carnal of ways.