My eyes fluttered open to see his on me. His breathing was uneven, and his gaze was filled with something soft and dark that I wasn’t sure I wanted to understand.

He was much different than a man I would choose in a crowd, but maybe that was why I found him so appealing. He terrified me a little bit, and I always did like to live on the edge.

Crawling to my knees, I knelt in front of him, rested my hands on his chest, and pressed my lips to his neck. The small taste made me feel dizzy. I kissed him from his ear down to his collar, and he inhaled a heavy breath. I tried to undo his tie, but he stopped me by grabbing my wrist. He held onto it as I went lower, running my face down his stomach, kissing his abs through his shirt. His hand settled in my hair, running through my locks.

The ringing of a phone cut through the air. He stilled, and I knew—call it intuition—that if he got up, this was over. I wasn’t ready. Rrring, rrring, rrring. With my eyes on him, I licked his erection through his pants. He let out a rough noise of frustration. When I reached for his belt buckle, he grabbed my wrist again.

I moaned in protest as he pulled away from me and walked to his jacket, which hung on the back of a chair in front of a large floor-to-ceiling window. I lay on my stomach and watched him answer the call.

“Allister.”

His eyes didn’t stray from me as he spoke on the phone.

I thought I could hear a man on the other line, and it didn’t sound like he was speaking any language I understood.

“When did you last see him?” Allister was quiet for a while before a spark of frustration lit in his eyes. “I’ll be there tomorrow.” He hung up.

Silence swept into the room.

This was over.

Disappointment . . . and something heavier flooded me.

But then he dropped to his haunches in front of me, ran a hand across my cheek, and kissed me. Shock and warmth erupted in my chest. I moaned, wrapped my arms around his shoulders, and climbed onto him until I sat on his thighs. He tasted so good, so addictive. And I savored every lick and dip, every press of our lips. He kissed me without any reservation, like he had a right to, like I was his.

The kiss became different than any I’d ever experienced. More gentle . . . more momentous, and I didn’t like that. I reached for his belt, but he stopped me with a vise grip on my wrist.

“Allister,” I begged.

“I just had my tongue inside you,” he said, annoyed. “You can start calling me by my first name.”

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

His eyes darkened as he took in my expression. “You forgot my name.”

When I didn’t deny it, he shook his head and then dropped me on my ass on the bed. Oh, God, what was it? I’d been tipsy when I’d asked him a while ago, and it hadn’t helped that I only ever referred to him as Allister or Officer.

“I have to go away for a while,” he said, slipping his suit jacket on. “You can stay here tonight, or I’ll take you home.”

“What’s your name?” I asked.

“Do your goddamn homework before getting in someone’s bed, Gianna.”

I narrowed my eyes. “You know the name of every woman you sleep with?”

“Yes.”

I sighed, suddenly feeling very naked. And tired. I didn’t want to go to my apartment, not tonight. Magdalena only came by a few times a week, and it was lonely there.

“I’d like to stay here,” I murmured.

He stopped in front of me. “We’ll talk about this when I get back.”

“This?”

“Us.”

Oh. A myriad of confusing feelings rushed me at once, so I decided to avoid all of them.

“Do you have a decent cereal selection?”

He ran a thumb across my cheek. “You won’t forget me.” It was an order, but a tiny amount of vulnerability showed through. It warmed my chest. My hair was a mess, the hair tie slipping halfway down my ponytail. He pulled it from the messy locks and then put it in his pocket.

“How could someone ever forget your face?” I said.

For some reason, he thought that was funny. A smile touched the corner of his lips, and it was so sexy I stood up and kissed him. He made a noise of disapproval in the back of his throat, but he let me have that kiss. Soft, wet, and sweet.

He slipped a business card into my hand. “Call this number if you need anything.”

“Sure thing, Officer.”

He smacked me lightly on the ass and walked out of the room.

I later did my homework. His name was Christian.

But it didn’t matter.

It would be three more years before I’d ever see him again.

I walked down 7th Avenue, struggling to balance my phone, latte, yoga mat, and purse.

“I mean, what kind of guy goes down on a girl and then doesn’t even call her back so she can reciprocate?” Those were the first words out of Valentina’s mouth after I’d had to juggle my things to get my phone to my ear.

“Why did I tell you about this again?” I asked.

“Because I’m an expert of men, and you wanted me to dissect your pretty fed’s brain.”

True. “And?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but, honey, I don’t think he’s into you.”

I mulled that around. I couldn’t say her words felt right—he kissed me—but why else wouldn’t he have even called after two weeks? A vulnerability had followed me around since that night. He’d seen me naked, had made me come apart under his hands. I’d begged him for more. And I’d gotten nothing from him. He hadn’t even taken off his stupid tie. Maybe it was all part of his game. Or maybe he was already bored of me. Frustration heated my cheeks.

“He only had Raisin Bran,” I muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing.” I took a sip of my latte, then said, “He gave me his number.”

“Really? Why haven’t you called him?”

“Because I don’t want to call him. I just want to know why he hasn’t called me.” Perfectly logical.

Valentina laughed. “Listen, your fed is a total hottie—God knows, I wouldn’t tell him no if he’d like to go downtown—but he’s dirty. And I mean, really dirty.”

“Trust me, I already know. He killed Prince Charming.”

“What? Oh, never mind. I don’t want to know. Ricardo told me nobody knows where the fed’s from, that he sort of just popped up in the underworld one day with connections from La Eme to the Bratva.”

I dodged a cyclist at the last second. “Yeah, yeah, yeah, he’s this super-important guy with super-important connections . . .” I muttered, rolling my eyes.

“Apparently, he’s good with computers, like some kind of genius or something. Like Einstein, just without a conscience. Guess that’s why the Bureau picked him up. You can’t trust anyone who works for the government, Gianna. He’d probably knock up another woman with twins the second you two became steady.”

“Your imagination is extraordinary.”

“Thanks.”

A beep told me I had another call, and when I saw it was from Chicago a zip of anticipation shot through me.

“I have to go, Valentina. I’ll chat with you later.”