I stepped into the lobby and, naturally, the one person I fought to avoid was leaning over the front counter, playing cards with the pubescent pool boy.

She wore a short little romper—one of those things she’d have to take all the way off to use the bathroom. So impractical. So her. Her dark hair trailed down her back, the longest strands stopping at a point just before the curve of her ass. It was another obsession of mine. Always wavy and uninhibited, just like her.

She looked over her shoulder as if she could feel my stare.

Fuck, she was pretty. With soft eyes, pouty lips, and a body sex doll companies tried to replicate.

Heat ran to my groin, and I clenched my teeth in annoyance.

Why did the most perfect woman from here to Seattle have to be this one?

She frowned at me, then turned her attention back to the kid as if I wasn’t even here. Women stared at me; Gianna glared. It was just a fact of life I’d come to terms with. Sometimes, I wondered, if she smiled at me genuinely, all coy and sweet, like I was someone she actually liked, would it finally be enough to end my infatuation with her? Reverse psychology and all that.

But no, she reserved those smiles for scrawny pool boys.

Pool boys with a death wish.

Who knew what his excuse was—a stray eyelash on her cheek, a hair out of place, her soft skin was distracting—whatever the fuck it was, he was going to touch her.

Over my goddamn body.

As I walked past the front counter, I grabbed his wrist before his hand could make contact with a strand of her hair, shooting him a touch-her-and-I’ll-kill-you look. He paled. I let him go and continued to the elevator.

“Oh, don’t mind him.” I could hear Gianna roll her eyes behind my back. “He doesn’t have a fun bone in his entire body.”

Maybe not, but my idea of fun certainly wasn’t watching some teenager who wouldn’t even know where to put his dick touch her.

Gianna and I exchanged a look before I stepped onto the elevator. Hers said, Stay out of my business. Before I could stop it, mine said, I’ve been inside that little body and I’ll goddamn say who can touch it.

Her eyes flashed.

Then, she lifted a finger and flipped me off.

THE APARTMENT GODS HATED ME.

I’d been trying not to concern myself with anything Christian Allister-related since that unfortunate afternoon in the back seat of his car. A part of me was still a little humiliated he’d witnessed my breakdown, but the other part couldn’t forget he’d been the best sex of my life.

I was still married.

And I wanted to sleep with the biggest prick I’d ever met again.

Christian wasn’t going to drag me down to hell with him.

Nevertheless, over the next week, I was put within close proximity to the man more than any other neighbor I’d ever had. I’d even physically run into him once. He’d looked at me like I was a vagrant who’d just asked him for money before leaving me there without even attempting a simple apology.

One might think our frequent run-ins would bring us closer together, and, although he did finally respond to one of my cheery, “Good morning’s!” with a dry expression while telling me it was noon, we were still about as close as Cady Heron and Regina George.

Five shopping bags hung from my arm as I adjusted the floppy hat on my head and walked through the lobby, heels clicking on the modern concrete floor. I’d been out with Valentina this afternoon, purchasing a few final items to add to my fall wardrobe. I’d yet to tell her about Christian and the fact I’d had rough, unprotected sex with him in his car, and I wasn’t going to. She’d make something of it that wasn’t there.

The doors began to close, but at the last minute, a hand shot out and held them open. Christian stepped onto the elevator.

His gaze came up and caressed mine.

I tensed and moved to the side, giving him much more room than he needed. His heavy presence stretched about three feet in diameter, and, these days, I did my best to stay out of it. It was like a vortex of dirty thoughts and racing hearts. Not to mention, he was so sexy and annoying, the closer I got to him, the worse the desire became to sink my teeth into the muscle at the back of his arm.

We both stared at the doors as they closed, my wish heavy in the air that somebody else would step on. Nobody did.

Like I said, the apartment gods hated me.

“I don’t bite,” he said, sounding annoyed.

“Liar.”

His gaze flicked to me, and then a slow smile pulled on the corner of his mouth. It was the kind of smile seen on the bad guy’s lips after stealing the girl. Warmth rushed beneath my skin; a prickling, breathless heat traveling all the way to my toes.

“Fine. I don’t bite women in elevators.”

“Whatever makes you feel good about yourself, Officer.”

He wore a long-sleeve shirt and running pants, and the light sheen of sweat on his skin let me know he was just leaving the gym. He went every day—even the Lord’s day. It was blasphemy.

Standing slightly behind him, I took advantage of the view. I swore the man was made of nothing but broad shoulders and smooth muscle, the defined lines visible through his shirt. The sliver of a white Calvin Klein band showing above the waistband of his pants was enough to send my thoughts straight to the gutter.

I swallowed. “The sun’s still up, buddy.”

“I’ve been expecting you to file your complaint. Thing is, I get more corrupting done at night if I work out during the day. Don’t want to disappoint those good Christian women.”

The thought that he was sleeping with other women made my gut twist. Nor could I stop a rush of irritation any time Valentina even mentioned Aleksandra’s name. Her face annoyed me, and just the idea she had her French-tipped nails anywhere near Christian made my stomach burn. Gosh, maybe I was getting an ulcer. I reminded myself to make an appointment with my GP.

“I’ve yet to see you even use the gym, anyway,” he noted.

“That’s because I only run when something’s chasing me.” The doors slid open, and I stepped out, hitting him with one of my bags. “Just stay away from the pool, and everything will remain civil. Capiche?”

“Of course,” he said dryly. “Wouldn’t dare to ruin your day of lounging on a chaise with your pool boy on call.”

“Careful, Christian.” I pouted. “Keep saying sweet things to me, and I might think you like me.”

“Dormiste con ella, tú cerdo!”

Slap.

Chad blocked another incoming slap to his face by grabbing his wife’s wrist. “Fue un accidente, querida!”

I scoffed.

“Un accidente? Tu polla no se deslizó dentro de ella, idiota!” Chloe slapped him with her free hand.

I jumped at the loud clap of thunder that seemed to rock the apartment building. Setting my needle and thread on the living room floor where I was sitting, I got to my feet and padded to the window. The sky was dark, though the glow of city lights caught on the menacing clouds rolling in.

Chloe and Chad were now ripping off each other’s clothes while professing their undying love for each other.

I flipped the channel.

The weatherman’s words were dubbed over in Spanish, but I didn’t even need to try and decipher what he was saying because the red cloud on his radar that was swallowing up Manhattan was clear enough.