“She says she won’t marry again.”

“Women say stuff they don’t mean all the time.”

“She means it. She thinks this is exclusive just sex.” Those two words annoyed the shit out of me.

“Sounds like you have an ideal situation going on. She’s sleeping with you—who gives a fuck if she doesn’t want to marry you?”

“She’s in the outfit.”

“Ah.” He sounded amused. “Messy.”

Dating women in the Cosa Nostra wasn’t a thing. This relationship would blow up sooner or later. Marriage was only the real grasp I could have on her. Otherwise, she wasn’t really mine. Whether she realized it or not, Gianna would have to make a decision to marry eventually, and I was selfish enough to make her choose me. Because there wasn’t an ounce of me that could let her become someone else’s.

“I know you’ve got some sinister plan in the works, so let’s hear it.”

Fuck. I hated how well he knew me.

Gianna roused and rolled onto her back. Her soft brown eyes fluttered opened and landed on me. I could feel the heat of them in my chest. Every time she looked at me, it only strengthened my decision. I might have fought it for a long time—for both our sakes—but she was mine now. And she had no idea what I would do to keep it that way.

I held her gaze. “Make her fall for me before I fuck it all up. Then, she won’t leave.”

“Sounds a little Stockholmy to me, but I like it. I’ll figure something out with Sergei.” A smile touched his voice. “And if I have to take one for the team and fuck his daughter, so be it.”

After I hung up, I switched back to English. “Did I wake you?”

“Yes.” She sighed and stretched out. “But I like listening to you on the phone.”

I guessed I should feel a little guilty I was conspiring against her, but I didn’t. I leaned forward on her ridiculous hot pink divan, resting my elbows on my knees.

“Why?”

“You have a sexy voice.” She yawned.

A smile pulled on my lips. She was always so honest. It was a trait I hadn’t come across often—I couldn’t even say I utilized it—though, maybe that was why it was so refreshing. Every word she said was a little genuine piece of her. I wanted to collect them all.

A flush warmed her cheeks. “I’m sorry I fell asleep on you.”

I’d stripped her naked and gone down on her, only for her to fall asleep seconds after she’d come. Truthfully, I would do it for the rest of my life with the knowledge I wouldn’t get anything in return. I’d fantasized about her for so long, and the dream couldn’t even touch the reality.

“Can I make it up to you?”

I absently rubbed my hard-on through my briefs, loving that idea, but then she yawned, her eyes growing heavy.

“Make it up to me in the morning.”

“What are you doing?” she asked, as I got into bed with her and pulled her back against my chest.

“Sleeping.”

“Here?” She sounded terrified.

“Yes. Now, be quiet. I’m tired.” I’d never done this in my life. Wouldn’t be able to sleep a fucking wink.

“Fine.”

It took five minutes until she was out like a light.

I ran my hand over her hip, memorizing the curve and velvety feel of her skin. She had two dimples on her lower back I’d always been infatuated with, framed right above the sweetest ass, and it was all pressed up against me. Her hair was in my face and it smelled like vanilla. All of it was sensory overload. Like an injection of dopamine. My heart beat heavily. The blood rushed through my veins so fast my hand felt unsteady.

When you’re obsessed with something for so long and finally obtain it? It feels like coming home to God. And nobody gives up their fucking spot in Heaven.

IT WAS HOT.

And why did it feel like my blanket weighed fifty pounds?

I tried to roll over but couldn’t move.

Fighting through the heavy confusion and unconsciousness, I realized what was holding me down. There was a man in my room. In my bed. Panic bled into my veins, and my eyes shot open.

“Go back to sleep, malyshka.”

My heart began to beat again.

“Oh, my gosh,” I breathed heavily in relief. “I thought you were a serial killer.”

A low chuckle came from him. “Not too far off.”

The fifty-pound blanket was only his arm around me, and the heat—that was all him, pressed up against me. No sunlight came in through the window, but the room was still lit. He’d left the bathroom door open and the light on, like I did every night. The thoughtfulness made my heart feel heavy in my chest. But now that I wasn’t alone, it seemed embarrassingly bright in here.

I swallowed. “I could probably sleep without the light, if it’s keeping you up.” Just the thought started a cold sweat beneath my skin.

“It’s not.”

I didn’t know if I believed him, but I forgot about it when I realized he was hard. A rumble sounded in his throat when I shifted and rubbed against him. God, the man was so warm and half-naked, just the press of his body against mine sent my toes curling in pleasure. If I’d known it felt this good spooning with Christian Allister, I would have climbed into his bed years ago, just for this.

I couldn’t help but roll my ass back against his erection. He grabbed my hip, and I thought he was going to stop me, but instead, he grinded me harder against him. Heat drifted and tightened between my legs as I rolled my hips, in nothing but the rustle of sheets and the sound of our breaths.

I turned in his arms, and he rolled onto his back as I straddled him. He ran his hands up my thighs, his half-lidded eyes taking in my naked body.

My gaze dropped to his lips. I couldn’t believe he’d never kissed another woman but me. The man had volunteers lined up from here to China, for goodness’ sake. Though, I had to admit, the fact I’d been the only one—his only experience in that department—was incredibly hot.

Surely, he’d had to put in an effort to keep from kissing the women he’d dated. One would think it’d be easier just to kiss them, and to me, that meant he had a resilient motivation. I knew it wasn’t germs. A couple of the times he’d gone down on me, the man had ventured lower, to a hole I’d never let another touch before, and I doubted he’d just gotten lost. But somehow, I knew, if I wasn’t careful with my questions, they would blow up in my face.

I ran my hands up his chest. “What do you do for the Bureau?”

“Whatever they want me to do.”

“So . . . say they told you to go set fire to the old lady’s apartment next door.”

“I’d set fire to her apartment.”

I swallowed, and the next question came out a little breathless. “Say they told you to kill me.”

I met his gaze.

Possessive blue flames.

And something morally ambiguous.

His hand came up to my throat and his thumb brushed across my pulse. Then, he lightly squeezed. “I’d have to decline.”

The pressure building in my lungs released with my next breath, and I forced a small smile to my lips. “Because I’m too much fun?”

“Because you’re mine.”