Nick's expert hands slid down my sides, resting at my hips. My eyelids fluttered shut as he softly massaged my skin in circles with his fingertips. His mouth continued its seductive assault on my neck as I leaned my forehead against his shoulder.

"I wasn't expecting you to answer the door in a towel," Nick mumbled against my neck, his teeth grazing over my skin.

"I wasn't expecting you to show up ten minutes early."

"I'm full of surprises," he chuckled.

I opened my eyes to see the gorgeous man I lusted over only a few inches from me. Though I stood in the middle of my living room naked with a man I'd known less than a week, I didn't feel uncomfortable at all. I felt safe with Nick and that made me trust him more. I was still hesitant to trust Nick entirely, but I couldn't deny that my feelings for him were growing stronger.

"Nick," I sighed, already regretting what I was about to say. "Derek and I talked about the whole... cheating thing."

Concern shadowed his face and he removed his hands from my body. His lips parted and I thought he was going to say something but no words came. He took a step back.

"I didn't want to talk about it," I decided to explain. "He confronted me when I got home this morning. He'd followed me to the restaurant last night and seen us together."

Nick closed his eyes, gripping the edge of a couch cushion until his knuckles turned white.

"Nick?" I asked hesitantly, worried he was going to start yelling at me the way Derek had.

He blinked a few times. "Yeah."

"I know you're probably pissed at me too, but-"

"I'm not," he sighed. "It's my fault you got into this bullshit in the first place. If Derek's got a beef, he should pick his fight with me, not you."

I was relieved that Nick wasn't pointing all the fingers at me but I didn't want him and Derek fighting. "For both our sakes, I hope he doesn't," I said, picking up the towel from the floor and covering myself once more.

"What are you worried about?" Nick snorted a laugh. "It's not like he'd win the fight."

I groaned at the thought. "I don't want you two fighting, period."

I turned away to head upstairs. He followed right behind me as I went back to the bathroom. His eyes stayed glued to my body as I dropped the towel again, kicking it aside and sliding on my panties.

"It's a shame you're putting those on." He stared at my white lacy underwear. "I'll gladly take them off for you later, if you'd like."

As much as I adored the idea of Nick removing my panties, I needed to focus. I still needed to get ahold of that file in his home office. That had to be my main priority. I could indulge in sensual behavior afterward.

I shook my head, rolling my eyes at him as I put on a dark blue short-sleeved shirt and jeans.

"Nick." I haphazardly brushed my wet hair into a messy bun. "Can we do something besides sex?"

Nick looked confused but nodded. "What do you have in mind?"

I shrugged. "Believe it or not, I'd actually like to get to know you more."

"Okay. Do you want to go somewhere or...?"

"We could," I said. "Or I can make dinner."

Nick smiled at the mention of food. "Dinner sounds great."

We made our way back downstairs to the kitchen where I started picking through items in the freezer to see what I could throw together.

"What do you like?" I asked, shivering at the cold air leaving blasting my bare arms.

"You," Nick chuckled.

I turned my head to look at him. He was rocking back and forth on his heels, a dorky grin plastered on his face.

"Italian," he answered. "Or Chinese. Those are my main choices."

I found some form of pleasure in knowing that we had the same two preferences. "How 'bout I make an Asian-style stir-fry?" I offered.

"That sounds perfect," he smiled, sliding his hands in his pockets.

I envied his pockets.

I began pulling vegetables from the fridge and prepping them while I waited for some beef to thaw in the sink. Nick studied my every move as I chopped ingredients, searched through the cupboard for the right size skillets, and tossed everything in to cook. We didn't say much while I worked. He offered to help, so I let him cube the meat.

I leaned against the counter while Nick stood on the opposite side of the kitchen watching me at the stove.

"You never told me where you're from originally," I broke the silence.

"Virginia," he answered. "I grew up in Alexandria. My dad worked in the Pentagon. I basically spent my childhood harassing the citizens of D.C."

"Oh, really?" I giggled, trying to imagine what he must have been like as a kid.

"Apparently," he said in a shocked voice. "You're not supposed to try to climb the memorials."

I pictured Nick trying to inch his way up the Washington Monument. "Good lord."

"The Lincoln Memorial has a lot of bird shit on it," Nick chuckled. "I found that out the hard way."

I made a face in disgust.

"You know, I never will understand the mindset of the people who clean that stuff off," he shook his head in amusement. "Why would anyone want the title of Bird Turd Scraper-Offer?"

I burst out laughing, trying not to slop food out of the skillet as I stirred it around.

"What about you?" Nick asked.

"I grew up in Alabama. Montgomery, actually. It's beautiful down there," I smiled. "I just got tired of living in the country and had a few big city dreams so I went to Los Angeles after college and when that didn't work out I went to Harvard. Then I came here."

Nick was listening intently to my every word. "What made you choose Chicago?"

"It just felt like somewhere I could belong. You know when something just grabs your interest and won't let go?"

He nodded. "I get it. That's basically the same reason I ended up here. Aside from work transfers, that is."

"What did you do before Hampton, Burns and Hampton?" I asked, retrieving a wooden spoon from the drawer.

He hesitated to answer, brushing his bangs back and glancing to the floor. "I worked in law enforcement in Washington. My dad was in Central Intelligence and it always intrigued me so when I got older I looked into working for the CIA. I didn't have any luck with that though."

"So did you become a cop or...?" I was anxious to hear how he'd ended up in the FBI.

"Sort of," he said vaguely, but then changed the subject. "The food smells good."

I smiled, acting like it didn't bother me that he wouldn't go into details. I wanted to know about his past. I didn't want to press him about it where he wouldn't talk to me though. I hoped he'd give me the opportunity to bring it up again so I could get a real answer out of him.

"Yeah," I said, staring at the skillet. "It does."

Nick watched me stir our food one last time before finally dishing it out into bowls.

He looked around awkwardly, "Do we eat here or-"

"I usually eat on the couch," I gestured toward the living room. "Unless I have people over that I have to be a little more traditional with. Then I'll eat at the table with everyone."

He nodded, wandering into the living room. I followed a few seconds later with my bowl and a glass of raspberry lemonade. When I walked in, Nick was sitting cross-legged on the couch, grinning at me.

"Someone's excited." I took a seat on the cushion next to him.

"This is actually really fucking good," he smiled, taking a bite.

"It's my favorite," I returned his smile, fetching the remote and turning on the TV. "What do you want to watch?"

He shrugged, forking his food.

I flipped through channels, landing on the local news.

"Barf," Nick made a face, looking at the TV where the meteorologist was talking about the next seven days of sunshine and higher temperatures.

"What?"

He frowned, pointing his fork at the screen. "No rain."

"What's wrong with sunshine?" I was confused.

"No thunderstorms for me to kiss you in the middle of the street in front of all your neighbors," he answered casually, putting another forkful in his mouth.

I couldn't suppress the oncoming giggle. "Did you really just say that?"

"Oh, I went there," he smirked.

"I'm honestly surprised Mrs. Meeker hasn't come by to bitch at me about it yet," I said, thinking of the grumpy old woman next door. "No doubt she saw it, as much as she likes to sit at her window staring at everyone to find her next thing to complain about."

Nick cocked an eyebrow. "You don't like her?"

"She didn't like me first," I defended, laughing. "When I first met her, she came over to complain that I was raking my leaves and that the rake was too noisy and disturbing her!"

"Sounds like a real angel," he chuckled.

"Saintly."

"Did you ever want to do anything besides law?" Nick asked, setting his empty bowl on the coffee table.

"You inhaled that," I pointed to his bowl. "But yeah. I used to think I was going to major in Fashion Merchandising, move to New York City and become the next big designer."

"What happened?"

"I guess I didn't have as much of a passion for it as I thought I did so I ended up finding something I thought I could really get into and I never pursued fashion," I explained.

"That's a shame. I bet you would've been good at it," he said.

"Maybe I'll consider it again someday," I shrugged. "If I get sick of law and my interest in real estate doesn't outweigh it."

Nick scooted a few inches closer to me, brushing his knee against the side of my thigh. I felt electricity where our bodies were touching.

"So your law enforcement experience," I said, figuring now was a good time to press him a little bit. "What did you do?"

Nick fidgeted in his spot beside me. He didn't make eye contact as he watched the reporter on TV talking about a grass fire in the southern part of the state. "I tried to take after my uncle," he answered, staring a hole through the screen.

I raised an eyebrow. Maybe I was getting somewhere. "What did he do?"

"He was a federal agent," Nick said, finally looking at me. "My dad was CIA and his brother was FBI. Since the CIA wouldn't take me, I thought I'd knock on the FBI's door."

"And?"

"And now I'm working at Hampton, Burns and Hampton." He shut down again.

My stomach sank. I wished he would just tell me and get it over with. I wanted to hear him admit that he was an agent. Why did he have to be so cautious about telling me? It wasn't like I was going to shout it from the rooftops.

We sat in silence, watching the remainder of the news. I felt Nick's fingertips brush over my thigh as he moved his hand to rest on my knee. I didn't acknowledge his gesture so he moved closer to me, placing his arm around my shoulders. I started to give in to temptation and leaned against him, laying my head on his shoulder. Strands of his hair tickled my forehead and I moved my head to his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat.

We cuddled like that for such a long time, I eventually fell asleep. When I awoke it was after midnight and Nick still had his arm over me as he sat against the pillows, sleeping quietly. Apparently I'd moved around in my sleep because my head was in his lap and I'd been hugging his legs.

I rolled onto my back, causing his arm to lie across my stomach as I looked up at him. The TV was still on but the sound was muted. I assumed Nick had turned the volume off after I'd fallen asleep. In the dim lighting he looked young and innocent, like he'd never experienced a single heartache in his life.

I reached up to run my fingers through his hair. The silky smooth strands glided easily through my fingers. His breathing came in long drawn out breaths while I watched the rise and fall of his chest. I quickly fell back asleep and when I woke up again, the sun was about to come up and I was no longer sprawled out across Nick's thighs. I blinked a few times, looking around the living room in a daze. Nick wasn't on the couch anymore. He wasn't in the living room at all.