I shut the door, dropping my keys in the glass bowl on the end table, and drag my ass over to sink down on the couch. It’s been a long fucking day. I wince as I scrape the wound on my arm against the rough fabric of the sofa. I suck in a deep breath through clenched teeth. Fucking asshole made me chase him through the woods, all for what? A couple hundred bucks he stole from his parents? Seriously? It fucking pisses me off. I’m so fucking tired of dealing with junkies and this stupid shit. What’s worse is I know he’ll be out soon. Only to get hauled back in later. I lean my head back against the couch.

I put my hands on my forehead, and try to let the stress leave me. This isn’t what I thought being a cop would be like. I shake my head and forget that shit. I knew this was going to be hard. It’s not what’s eating me. I know exactly why I’m all fucked up. It’s because I have no leads to the only case I really care about.

My heart twists in my chest. I don’t want to think about him. I’ve been trying to avoid it, but he keeps haunting me. I don’t know what hurts worse, the fact that he could end this pain for me, or the fact that he’s gotten to me. I haven’t been with anyone in so long. I don’t remember it feeling like this. But then again, I’ve never been dumped like that either.

I snort, and force my tired body off the sofa. Like we were seeing each other. As if I mattered to him.

My gut drops, and I find myself regretting it. But I can’t stand that. I don’t like regret. I do what feels right, and I don’t do what feels wrong. It’s my own insurance policy so that I never regret anything.

At any point in my past, I know whatever I was doing was exactly what I wanted. At least right then and there. And I’d be a fucking liar if I said I didn’t love every minute of Tommy fucking me. I came alive under him. I smile, remembering how loud his bed was. I shake my head and open my fridge looking for a snack or something.

It sucked though, when it was over. I look at the half gallon of milk and the rest of my practically-empty fridge and frown. I close the door and try to shake off this shit feeling. I don’t hold it against him. It never should’ve happened. But it still fucking hurt.

I’m not going to let him stop me from getting to the bottom of Petrov’s case though. I’m sure as fuck going to avoid him like the plague though. I need to get him out of my head. If anyone at the station found out what happened between us, I’d be fucked.

I feel like a bitch for judging all of them and how hard they are after years of doing this shit. No wonder they look at me like I don’t belong. Fuck! I lean my head against the fridge and breathe in and out slowly. I can’t shake this negativity. I can’t get out of my own fucking head. I’m second-guessing everything, and feeling like shit as a result. I need to stop. But I don’t know how.

I slowly open my eyes as I hear a loud knock at my door.

My heart stills in my chest. I have no clue who would come over here this late at night. I wait with anxiety trickling through my limbs for a voice. But I don’t hear anything. I walk silently, but quickly to the end table and pick up my gun where I left it. I hold it down and walk steadily as I hear a loud knock again.

Bang. Bang. Bang! On the third, I hear his voice say, “Open up, Tonya.” Relief washes through my body and I almost put the gun down, but then I think twice.

I look at it in my hands and remember how angry the other members of the Valetti familia were. In two days, I’ve managed to piss off more men than my mom has in her entire life. That's saying something.

“I know you’re in there, you may be a bad girl, but I don’t want you pushing me right now.” His voice doesn’t come out hard, but it's not playful either. It’s almost a little worried. Like he’s fairly confident that I’ll answer him, but scared that I won’t.

I like that.

I like making him wait. Not because I don’t want to answer him, I do. The wild side of me is jumping at the chance to answer him. But I also like keeping him on edge.

I put the gun down on the end table. It may be stupid, but I don’t care right now. I walk to the door and unlock it. I wait a second to see if he’ll open it. But he doesn’t. He respects that boundary. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. I can’t let myself go back to how it was before. This is going to be professional.

I open the door and curse myself as my eyes land on his hard, muscular body. Fuck, I want him. I want all of him. I close my eyes and don’t open them as he speaks.

“What are you doing snooping around?” He gets right to the point, and anger rises within me. Enough so that I can stare back at him.

“Snooping around?” I’m not snooping. I’m simply trying to get answers.

“You need to knock it off.” His voice is stern and admonishing. It pisses me off, but also lights something else in me. Something I need to let die.

“I don’t need to do anything, and as far as you’re concerned, you weren’t giving me what I needed, so I had to go somewhere else.” I know the double meaning there. And I hate that it slipped out. I feel fucking pathetic.

His eyebrows raise, and he looks me up and down like he’s sizing me up, but I can see he’s angry. “Is that so?” he says with a neutral tone.

I start backpedaling the best I can and say, “I need answers for my own sanity.”

“You’re a cop, you think they’re going to give you anything?” He raises his voice as he continues to lay into me, “They’re not like me, Tonya. They aren’t going to treat you like I do.”

“So they aren’t going to fuck me and then toss me aside?” I’m so fucking bitter I can’t help but spit it out. I don’t feel any anger toward him, but apparently some part of me does.

“Is that what you want from them?” he asks.

“Fuck off, Thomas.” I start to close the door. I don’t have the energy for this. If he’s not going to help me, fine. If he doesn’t want to fuck me anymore, that’s fine, too.

Thomas stops the door and pushes it open so he can lean in. “What the fuck? You trying to piss me off, Officer Kelly?” I don’t like the way he’s saying my name. Like he’s asking if he’s talking to me or someone else, someone who he doesn’t trust. I’ve never been anything but honest with him.

“What do you want?” I ask with irritation coloring my voice, but I’m not irritated. I’m hurt. I want him to say, “You.” I want him to come in and take me. I want him to make everything better. And that realization makes me feel weak. It makes me feel sick to my stomach.

“I wanna come in and talk.”

“Now you wanna talk?” I shake my head and try to push down the bit of hope growing in my chest. It’s stupid. I shouldn’t be hoping. This can’t happen.

“You gonna let me in?” he asks, like I might actually say yes.

“No.” I shake my head and open my eyes, making sure to only look at his face. The thought of him coming in here only makes me want to test whether or not he can make my bed creak and groan like he did his. This is bad. Real fucking bad.

“Why the fuck not?” He sounds all pissed off.

“‘Cause I don’t have to, that’s why.” I'm flippant as I say it.

“Don’t push me, baby.” He narrows his eyes at me as he says it.

“I’m not your baby. I’m not your anything.” I at least have a little pride knowing that those words came out strong.

“With a mouth like that, right now you’re my bad girl. That’s all you are.” My pussy clenches at his words. I can’t help that it turns me on. But I have to remember that this can’t happen. This is wrong.

“Bad things will happen if you come in here.” I tell him the truth and regret it when his eyes heat with lust and his lips pull into a smirk.

“You want me that much? You really can’t control yourself?” he asks with a cocky grin.

It pisses me off. And I hold on to that anger so I can push him away like I know I should.

“Fuck you!” I grab the edge of the door and try to slam it shut, but his boot hits the door, blocking it.

For the first time ever in his presence, I feel scared. I don’t know why, but a sense of danger takes ahold of every part of me, and I race to get to my gun. I grip it with both hands and point it at him as he takes a step inside.

His eyes go wide when he sees the gun pointed at him. He raises both of his hands, “Whoa, baby, what are you doing? Put the gun down.”

My hands tremble slightly, and I feel so fucking insecure. I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. I don’t trust anything that I’m feeling. My hand starts shaking. It’s never done that. I’ve always had control. But I’ve never been in this situation before, either. I don’t even know why I grabbed it.

“Hey, it’s alright.” He keeps his hands raised. “You really want me to go? I’ll go.”

I don’t know what I want. I slowly aim the gun down and keep my head down. I’ve fucked this up so fucking bad.

“I know I push you. I didn’t mean to threaten you though.” I watch in my periphery as he walks toward me like one would a wounded animal. And that’s exactly how I feel. I’m so fucked up. So worn out and torn.

“I’d never hurt you, Tonya.” I shouldn't believe him, but I do. He reaches out slowly and grabs my gun. I think about resisting, but I don't want to. He gently places it on the end table and looks at me like he doesn't know what to do with me.

He takes his gun out, making sure to point it away from me and quickly sets it on the end table next to mine.

He cups my chin in my hand. “I’m sorry I pushed you like that. I really thought you were just pushing me back.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” I say weakly, and look up at him through my thick lashes.

A soft chuckle rumbles through his chest. “I don’t either, baby.” He lowers his lips to mine. He whispers with his full lips barely touching my own, “I won’t hurt you. And I won’t let anyone else hurt you, either.”

I open my eyes and see sincerity in his dark stare.

“You gotta stay away, though.” My gaze drops to the floor. I try to push him away, but it’s a weak and useless effort.

“Not from me.” His words pull me back from the defeated place I’d sunk to. “I want you. But they can’t know. No one can know, and you need to stay away from them.”

His chest rises and falls, and his breathing is the only thing I can hear other than my own heart thumping in my chest.

This is dangerous. It’s forbidden. But I want it. I want him.

“Tell me you want me, baby.” His voice is confident, but I can tell he needs the reassurance. He needs me to tell him I want him, too. And I do. I desperately want him.

“I want you.” Before the last word leaves my lips, his hands grip my hips and he pulls me under him as he falls onto the sofa.

His fingers tickle my skin as they travel under my shirt, slowly lifting it up past my breasts.

“I'll make you feel better, baby.”

“Yes,” I whisper. Please. I need to feel better.

“You’re just too tempting. I fucking need you under me.” He stares at my breasts as he pulls the cup of my bra down and pinches my hardened nubs. It sends a direct shot of need to my clit.

A soft smile plays at his lips, but he looks into my eyes with concern.

“You really thought I’d hurt you?” He pulls my shirt over my head, taking the bra with it and lifts me into his lap. His arms wrap around my waist as he leans back against the sofa.

I feel ashamed, so I try to look away, but he cups my face and turns my head so I have to look at him. “Don’t do that.”

“I'm sorry,” I say barely above a murmur. I am. I'm so damn sorry.

He smirks a bit and says playfully, “I had it coming, messing with a bad girl like you.”

He takes my lips with his, and I feel every emotion crash down around me. The only one left standing is lust. I moan into his parted lips and let his hands roam my body. I need him to take me away. I need to feel something else.

He tosses me backward and climbs between my legs, ripping off everything in his way. I want to close my legs, but I don't. The look of hunger in his eyes keeps my legs spread wide for him. He licks his lips and gently runs a finger down my hip bone and over my clit. My body shudders under his touch, and his lips twitch into a satisfied smile as he lowers his lips to my pussy.

His deft fingers pump in and out of me while he sucks my clit. My eyes roll back in my head as my back bows and I struggle with my composure. It’s so intense. Too intense. My body begs me to move away, not knowing if I’ll be able to stand the power of the orgasm he’s forcing out of me. My fingers dig into the couch and scratch along his back.

He pulls away as my thighs loosen, and the sight of him is nearly enough that I cum just from looking at him. His chiseled frame is all ripped muscle, with his left arm covered in intricate tattoos. His eyes are intense with his own need, and his breath comes in pants. He stares at my pussy in awe as he curls his fingers and mercilessly rubs my G-spot. His thumb presses down on my clit and I find my body trying to turn away. It’s too much. I can’t stand the overwhelming sensation.

“Don’t you move,” he says while withdrawing his fingers. My eyes pop open and my breath finally comes back to me.

“I didn’t mean to.” I’m so ready. I want him so fucking bad. I was so close. So fucking close.

He smirks at me and backhands my clit. My back arches, but my pussy clamps down on nothing. I need it. I’m so close.

“Bad girl,” he says with a smirk. If he wasn’t so fucking hot, and I wasn’t so delirious with my own needs, I’d tell him off. Instead I bite my lip and wait with bated breath for him to take me over the edge. “Hold still.” He lowers his head and relief flows through me, but it’s immediately replaced with the tingling sensation of every inch of my skin being lit aflame.

He laps at my pussy, and gently places his thumb against my ass. My mouth opens as the foreign sensation of him pushing against me adds to the intensity of his tongue massaging my clit. My eyes close, and my lips part. My breathing comes in ragged pants as he starts fucking my ass and sucking my clit at the same time. It’s too much. So fucking overwhelming.

In an instant, my body goes numb and then immediately explodes with paralyzing pleasure.

My thighs clench around his head as I cry out in complete ecstasy. Every nerve ending heats in waves, starting at my toes and working their way up. Each wave of pleasure is higher and more intense than the previous. My body is twisted and still stiff, unwilling to move. I try to relax as I come down from the high. I try, but my body doesn't respond. I can only feel.

After a few minutes of lying limp on the sofa, I come to my senses. My body is covered in sweat, and my legs are still trembling. I try to speak and realize my throat is sore and dry.

I look down my body and watch as Thomas stands up and shoves his jeans down his muscular thighs. He grabs his thick cock in his hands and strokes it once. The head glistens with a taste of his cum. He embodies power and lust. And the sight of him is intoxicating.

“I want you on the bed next.” With the heated look in his eyes and my arousal glistening on his lips, I can’t deny him. I can’t deny what I want either. I love the way he makes me feel. In this moment I’d let him have me however he wanted. And I do.

I’ll give him every bit of me that he wants.

I can’t remember how long it’s been since I’ve felt this alive. A spark I haven’t felt in years is blazing inside of me. He lifts my body in his arms and carries me to the bedroom. I lean into him. I don’t want to think about anything except how good it feels.

That’s all I care about. I just want to feel.

He tosses me onto the bed and immediately crawls toward me. He looks dangerous, he is dangerous. He licks his lips and climbs over my body, forcing me onto my back.

His lips crush mine, and I can faintly taste myself on his tongue. I smile and pull back as a blush rises to my cheeks. His chest shakes gently with his rough chuckle, and it warms every bit of me.

“Where are your cuffs?” he asks. My eyes widen at his question. My heart races in my chest.

“You need to learn to trust me, baby.” He kisses me with such passion I have to close my eyes.

“I can help you with that. Let me.”

I pull away from him and look at my dresser. They’re in the top drawer. My anxiety spikes.

“I can’t.” I push the words out. I know there’s something between us, but what that is, I’m not sure.

“You can,” he says, standing up from the bed. He walks to my dresser, following my line of sight and guessing correctly that the cuffs are there. They’re right on top, so he doesn’t have to look very long to find them.

“You could hurt me,” I state simply. It's one thing to fool around, but another to give up control and make myself so helpless. I don’t want to be vulnerable. The very thought chills my blood.

He looks at me with incredulity before pointing out, “My arm is almost as large as your head. I could hurt you right now if I wanted.” My eyes linger on his corded arms and broad shoulders. I know what he's saying is true, but I don't like it. I don't like how accurate his words are.

“That right there,” he walks back to me and gentles his hand on my forearm, “That fear. I’m going to take it away.” I stare into his heated gaze and feel too much comfort.

“Why?” It’s stupid to even consider it. But I am. I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want to be angry, either.

He shrugs and dangles the two sets of cuffs from his finger. He watches as they sway. “You look like a girl who could use a little help.”

“I don’t need help.” I know I sound defensive, and I don’t mean to.

“No, you don’t need it. But you could use it.” He hands me the cuffs. “Lock them around your wrists.” He gives me the command and it instantly heats my core. I have to stop myself from scissoring my legs.

“What are you going to do to me?” I ask him in a breathy voice. Now that I’m holding the cuffs in my hand and he’s standing so close, it’s turning me on. His muscular chest ripples as he takes a step back from me.

“I’m going to watch as you cuff yourself to the bed.”

I bite my lip and watch him stroke himself. “Just the thought of you being at my mercy has me almost cumming. You know that?”

I feel my cheeks heat and a wave of arousal shoots through me. I shift the cuffs to my other hand and look at them and then at him.

“Then what?” I ask. My lips stay parted as my breathing comes in short pants.

“I’m gonna do whatever I want with you.” My eyes fall and the insecurity comes back. I don’t like not having a plan.

“I’m going to start by getting between your legs and getting your taste back on my tongue.” My eyes shoot to his as I listen. “I need to get you ready to take me.” My thighs clench, and I know I’m already ready.

“Not your pussy, baby. I want your ass.” My eyes widen, and I actually scoot away slightly on the bed. He chuckles and strokes himself again. My eyes focus on the bead of precum leaking from his slit.

“Not tonight, baby. But I’m gonna get you ready for me. Tonight I’m fucking your pussy like I own it. But next time, I’m taking your ass.”

His words force a moan from my lips. I want that. I want all of that. But I don’t want to give up control. I look up at him with apprehension, and see nothing but desire written on his face. I have to tell him how I really feel though. “I’m scared,” I whisper, and it makes me feel weak.

“That’s normal. But I promise you, you’re going to love it.”

“What if it’s too much?” I ask.

He smirks at me as he says, “You have to trust me.” He walks over and plants a soft kiss on my lips before I can object to anything else.

His hand strokes my hair. “All you need to do is trust me.”

This is stupid and reckless, but I feel like I need this. I close my eyes and quickly tighten the cuffs on both my wrists. I bring my right hand up to the bedpost and attach the cuff to the thin metal cylinder.

My heart races in my chest. “Just tug, baby.” I hear his words and it takes a second to understand the meaning of them. I do as he says. I pull against the restraint, and I can see why he wanted me to. If I struggle hard enough, the post will give. It’ll fuck up my wrist, but I could get out. It would fucking hurt though.

“I won’t do anything that’ll make you feel like you need to. I just wanted you to realize, if you really needed to, you could take control back.” He plants another soft kiss on my lips and I close my eyes and lie back against the pillow. I put my left wrist up against the post and wait for him to tighten it.

My heart races in my chest. He could do whatever he wants to me now. His grin widens into a gorgeous smile as his eyes roam my body.

“Spread your legs,” he commands, and I instantly obey.

“See, you can be a good girl when you want to.” He climbs on the bed and buries his head between my legs. I moan and arch my back as he sucks my clit into his mouth and massages it with his tongue. His fingers push into me and curl up, hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves. He's rough and brutal. His movements are harsh and strike my desire each and every time. My body heats so hot I swear I'm not alright and then the trembling waves start from the pleasure stirring in my center.

My orgasm hits me with a force I’ve never felt before. It comes so quickly, and so forcefully that I wasn’t prepared. I scream and convulse as a white light blinds me and my skin turns to fire. He kisses my thigh, my hip. His rough stubble scratches gently across my sensitive skin and makes my body shudder.

I breathe heavily as I come back down and watch as he sucks on his fingers with a look of pure rapture.

He takes them out of his mouth with a pop and smirks at me. “I told you you’d enjoy it. Now lie back and be a good girl for me. I’ll give you everything you need.”

* * *

When the morning light shines through the bit of my window not covered by the curtain, I roll over in my bed to avoid the light and reach out to nothing. My eyelids part and I sit up to make sure, but I already know he’s gone. My hand rests where he was last night and it’s cold.

I clench my thighs and feel so fucking sore. My pussy is slightly swollen and the movement sends a shot of need through me. If he was here, I’d want him again.

But he’s not.

I lie on my back and stare at the ceiling not knowing how to feel, or what to think.

I want him, obviously, and our chemistry is undeniable, but I can’t possibly expect anything to come of this. It’s a bad idea to play a man who won’t keep you. I pull the covers tighter around my shoulders and sink back into the warmth of the bed.

I close my eyes and try to ignore it. I’m not in any state to even think about what happened, let alone try to figure out where this is going.