A/N: Welcome to my first fanfiction here on FFN. I'm glad you made it. Let me know how you think about this story with a review. Sorry if there are any grammatical errors or typos. I do not have a beta yet—but if you're interested in this story and would like to help out, send me a message!

Title: Moving Violations

Category: Drama, Romance

Rating: M

Summary: Bella gets pulled over on her way to her friend's house by Lt. Edward Masen of Chicago's finest. Even though she doesn't know him, she has a strong sense of lust for Lt. Masen. Little does she know that she'll be running into him a lot more frequently—and not for legal reasons.

Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and the characters within. This story and its plot is a product of my overactive imagination—and my hope that I someday get pulled over by a hot police officer. This story is rated M for lemony sex scenes, foul language, and whatever else makes you fangirl. It is in Bella's POV, unless otherwise noted.

Music: "Float On" by Modest Mouse


Chapter 1: 510

Of all the days I was late, today was not the best day. I mean, I'm never late to anything. Except for today.

I had promised my best friend and coworker, Rosalie Hale, that I would leave the hospital in plenty of time to make it to her house to help bake pies and cakes to take to her fiancé's house for Thanksgiving. Sadly, I got tied up at work with one of my favourite patients and ended up staying an extra three hours. Which wouldn't have been a big deal—aside from the fact that Rosalie had sent me 15 texts that started off nice ("Are we still on for tonight?") to pissed off ("Where the fuck are you?")—which I knew she wrote just to get me riled on her usage of the f-bomb.

With the added pressure of being so late, I frantically changed out of my scrubs into my street clothes of a slouchy grey sweater, skinny dark wash jeans and knee high black boots, not even bothering with putting on a decent bra underneath my shirt because that's how late I was, but instead put it inside my tote bag that now doubled as my purse/home-away-from-home. I rushed out of the hospital to my beater of a truck and prayed to the car gods that the ancient Chevy truck would start without too much of a hassle.

Thankfully, the engine roared to life in the first attempt. The stars are aligned in my favour so far.

I quickly glanced around before pulling out of my parking spot. When I safely merged onto the street, I rummaged through my bag to grab my makeup so I could fix my face between stop lights. Normally, I would like to take my time to put my makeup at the hospital's locker room. But then again, I'm never late—therefore, I am no longer doing the "normal" thing. Besides—do you know how many accidents are caused by women putting on makeup while driving? Google it if you don't believe me. *

In between putting on lipgloss and reapplying my blush, I could see the distinctive blue and red lights flashing behind me.

Oh. My. God. What have I done?

I mean, I've never been pulled over in my life! What did I do wrong? I glanced at the speedometer and noticed that I was doing 35 in a clearly marked 15 mph zone. Doesn't 20 over the limit mean I could get arrested and charged with a felony? If this is true, my medical license would surely be revoked!

Thank the Lord I didn't put on my mascara because surely it would be all smudged with the uncontrollable tears leaking out of my eyes. Why did my emotions get hardwired to my tear ducts? By the time I see the police officer climb out of his cruiser, I've not only got full-on waterworks going but I'm pretty damn sure I have snot running out of my nose.

I turned to the tapping on the driver's side. With great embarrassment, I crank my window down.

"License and…uh… Ma'am? Are you okay?" the police officer asked.

I can't make out the features of the police officer through my tears. But I'm pretty sure the police officer is a male, judging by the deep timbre of his voice.

"Y-y-y-yes. Ss-s-s-s-sorry. I don't get (SNIFF) pulled over often. As in, ever…"

"Well ma'am, I need your license and registration."

I nod, sniffling some more, and then turn to my tote bag… Which has somehow magically disappeared from the passenger seat and onto the floor of my truck. I strain to reach it, and even with my belt off, I can't reach it. I sniff again, wiping the tears and snot off my face before I turn to him.

I am shocked at the sight of police officer standing at my door. It's obvious that he's just as uncomfortable about the situation as I am. His eyes are a shocking shade of green—like new grass, but with flecks of gold. I can't tell what colour his hair was as it was under his hat, but it looked dark. He had a strong jaw that had a goldish-brown 5 o'clock shadow. His nose was long and straight… And bright red. It was then that I noticed the snow falling.

"Uhm… Would it be alright for me to climb out to pull my purse out from the other side? It's fallen to the floorboard and I can't seem to reach it," I ask.

"That'll be fine. Just do it slowly and keep your hands out where I can see them," he answers.

I slowly climb out of my truck, keeping my hands up with the palms out so he can see that I am unarmed. He's shifts from one foot to the other, with his hand resting on the holster of his gun.

In retrospect, him being ready to pull his gun out at a moment's notice would have caused me to fall into a fit of laughter. Timid Bella Swan who has never done a wrong thing in her life had a cop being so worried that he was ready to pull his gun out.

When I reach to the other side of my truck, I grab my tote from the floor and walk back to the driver's side. Just as I pass around the front driver's side fender, I whack my leg with my bag –causing me to upend my bag and all of the items within in.

Including my sheer purple bra. The one I chose not to wear because I was late.

Damn being late. I swear to never be late ever again.

I gape at my belongings and my bra, which is currently resting on top of a paperback book and my hairbrush. If God is merciful, He would grant me a gentleman for a police officer. I quickly drop to my knees, ignoring the fine dusting of snow on the roadway with the intent to grab my bra and shove it in the pocket of my jeans. Screw the other shit. I'll leave the rest of it to rot in hell for all I care. Except, I can hear the police officer drop to his knee to help me gather my belongings as well. He picks up other objects around my bra.

Why would anyone carry so much shit in their bag? Seriously?

"I'm so sorry!" I stammer, picking up a book, candy wrappers, my hairbrush, who the hell cares.

"Don't worry about it ma'am," he states as he rises to his feet.

Is that a smile I hear in his voice? I stand when I gather everything into my bag and notice the half-crooked smirk forming on his full lips.

Shit. Guys should so not have lips like that. Those absolutely nummy…

"You just mind your speed and I'll let you go with a verbal. That sound alright to you?" Officer Nummy Lips asks.

"Uh… What? Oh! Warning. Thank you! I really appreciate it," I stammer. I cannot stop looking at his mouth and not wonder what they would feel like if I press mine to his.

"No problem. Have a great Thanksgiving, ma'am," he says, tapping his hat with his forefinger in a semi-salute.

I stand there, watching him walk back to his patrol car. When I realise that I've been staring at his ass too long, I shake my head and climb back into my truck.

Now I understand the appeal of why some people are late.


A/N: ::ducks:: So what do you think? Yeah? Sorry it ended up being so long! I hope to have each chapter just as long. That way, I can get this story out in 12-15 chapters (hoping). Reviews get a bit of the next chapter!