I paced the front lobby of the police station. It had been over an hour since Marco and the other officers responded to the armed breaking and entering. I wished I knew what the hell was going on. Would he come back to me safe? Suddenly, I heard a commotion from the back entrance of the police station. Shouting, cursing... my heart began to pound hard.
Had they caught the perpetrator? I stood frozen to the floor as I waited, trying to pick out Marco's voice from the cacophony.
Finally, a man that I recognized as the chief of police appeared. He sighed as he rubbed his neck, then noticed me.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" His brow furrowed as he looked me up and down. "You look familiar..." he trailed off, then his face softened. "You're in family law. I've sat through a few of your divorce trials. Never been a fan of lawyers, but you were something fierce to watch. Always fighting for the best option for the children. I admired that."
I felt my face heat. "Thank you, Chief." I shifted from one foot to the other. "Um, sir? I was here earlier when you all were alerted to the B and E... is everything alright?"
The Chief nodded as his face clouded. "Yeah, we got him. Was pretty tense for a few minutes, but we pulled through. No one was killed."
I let out the breath I hadn't realized I was holding. "Oh, thank goodness, I-- I trailed off as Marco came into view. His bright green eyes locked onto mine. His cheeks were flushed red with exertion, his uniform was dark with sweat stains. His light brown hair was damp from sweat as well.
"Elena! You're still here!" Without a second hesitation, Marco rushed forward and pulled me into his arms.
I buried my head into his chest, not caring that I was breathing in the unpleasant aroma of sweat and unbreathable Kevlar. I loved him, and he was safe and sound.
The sound of the chief clearing his throat caused us to pull away from the other. My cheeks went fire-engine red.
He raised his brows as he looked between us. "I thought you had an extra spring in your step, Officer Barelli. As much as I'm happy for you, may I remind you of your current duties?"
Marco stood straighter. "Sorry, sir, I'll get back to work immediately." 
But as the chief turned away to head into the back of the station, I could see the smile behind his eyes.
Marco quickly turned to me. "I'll see you tonight. I promise you."
I swallowed hard. "I'll be working late--this case has been a mess..."
He shook his head. "Don't worry, can we meet up at The Half Shell around 8?"
I smiled widely, and blushed. "Definitely, it's a date."
In a move that made my heart thump wildly, Marco softly pressed a kiss to the back of my hand. "I'll be counting the minutes."
"Me, too."
When I walked into The Half Shell at ten to 8, I had worked myself back into a nervous ball of tension. The case hadn't gotten any easier, but at least I had managed to speak to the father and instead of legal counsel, I had lent an ear to a worried, upset man. 
He was scared that his soon to be ex-wife was going to do something dangerous. It was bad enough he was living out of a hotel and the son and daughter were still at home, caught in the middle of their parents' war.
But I pushed the thoughts from my head the moment I saw Marco seated at one of the plush, high-backed booths in the corner.
The Half Shell was known for their fabulous seafood-- muscles, oysters, lobster, crab legs, and everything in between. It was on the pricey side, so I had made sure to look my best.
I sauntered over to Marco, suddenly feeling sexy and confident in my short, spaghetti strap black sundress, and black wedge heels. The dress showcased my cleavage in a tasteful way, but still teased the swell of my breasts. 
Marco heard the soft clomp of my shoes against the tile floor and looked up from his phone. He had changed out of his uniform into a navy blue button down that was expertly tucked into his dark fitted jeans and showcased a thick black belt. 
I swallowed hard at the sight of him, the butterflies danced an erotic tango in my stomach, and I was lost to those green eyes.
He stood, his expression one of lust, and deep care, his tall frame dwarfed me, but intimidation was gone and all that remained was my ache and love for him.
"God, Elena... and I thought red was your color..." he trailed off as he tucked a stray strand of hair behind my ear and bent his head low to kiss me.
The shivers that went through my body sent arousal straight between my legs with a pounding ache and a rush of wetness. How were we going to make it through dinner when all I wanted to do was sink my teeth into his perfect body?
The kiss was tender and deep, but ended far too soon. Marco gestured for me to sit beside him in the booth, and I happily slid across the plush fabric to the wall.
An overly eager waitress appeared at Marco's shoulder, then she caught sight of me and glowered. She placed two menus on the table, then took off with a huff.
Marco frowned at her retreating back. "What's up her ass?"
I chuckled. "You aren't. That's why she's pissed." I opened up the menu and took a look at the cocktails and felt my mouth water at the description of a blood orange margarita with jalapeños. "I mean, do you have any idea how fucking hot you are?" I continued, my eyes leaving the menu to glance up at him.
Marco swallowed thickly and blushed. "I... thanks. You know I only have eyes for you, right?" The feel of his hand on my knee elicited a gasp from my lips and I squeezed my thighs together to hold back the pooling wetness.
Trembling, I lifted my face to his to kiss again, when a huffy sigh interrupted our moment. "Are you ready to order?" She was back, with extra vitriol.
Marco squeezed my knee and turned to glance up at the waitress. "May we have a few minutes, please?"
She rolled her eyes and took off.
"Where were we?" Marco asked, his voice an even lower register.
I swallowed and managed to squeak out "jalapeño margaritas?"
A slow, wide smile crept up his lips. "Spicy...but not as spicy as you. That does sound good though, I think I'll get one, too. How about some oysters? They're an aphrodisiac, you know." He said with a wink.
I rolled my eyes. "Marco, I don't need an aphrodisiac. You don't know how wet I already am just being close to you." His hand started to caress past my knee and up my thigh.
"Touch me," he whispered, "I don't need one, either."
My face flushed deeper, but I softly brushed my hand across the front of his jeans. Feeling his hardened arousal caused a small, almost inaudible moan to flutter from my lips.
He growled a deep, primal growl against my ear, then with a shaky breath, murmured, "How about we still get the oysters? And how do you feel about soft shell crab?"
I started giggling.
"What's so funny?" He asked.
"You. You go from sexy as hell to thinking with your stomach. I think it's cute."
He smiled. "Like great sex, great food is also deeply pleasurable. I want to experience it all with you."
I brushed my nose against his. "I am hungry."
"So am I, baby." But the look in his eyes told me his craving was more for me than the bottomless pit of his stomach.
The waitress returned, still glaring at me, but took our order for drinks, oyster appetizers, and soft shell crab sandwiches.
My phone buzzed from my purse and I sighed, knowing it was most likely important. Marco frowned as I retrieved the device and checked the screen.
"Everything okay?" He asked.
It was my turn to frown. The text across the screen was once again from the worried father. He was having a panic attack and just wanted to talk to his lawyer. Without answering Marco, I showed him the text.
"I know I'm breaching client confidentiality right now, but this is something I have to deal with. Do you mind if I go call him real quick? Just to calm him down?"
Marco rubbed my thigh again, his expression one of understanding. "I love how caring you are. Go, make the call. I won't eat your food. Promise."
He let me out of the booth. "Be back in a few." I touched his cheek in a tender gesture, then quickly made my way to the parking lot to calm my client.
When I returned about fifteen minutes later, I was drained, frustrated, and a little depressed. This case was getting worse.
The waitress had plunked down a beautiful plate of oysters on the half shell and our drinks.
Marco gave me a sympathetic look and let me back in to the booth. We didn't need to say a word. He slipped an arm around my shoulders and offered me an oyster.
As I opened my mouth and accepted the slippery treat from the shell, my eyes locked deeply on to his. Suddenly, there was no divorce case, no custody battle... just Marco and those passionate green eyes.
I swallowed, the butterflies went from a sexy tango to grinding at a rave. He set down the shell on the plate, then once again, his hand slipped between my legs. 
Unconsciously, I parted them to allow his trembling fingers access to my heated flesh. The moment his finger tip brushed up and down my pussy, my eyes rolled back with desire.
We were in trouble... and I needed him as my mouth went dry.
The waitress returned, plunking two soft shell crab sandwiches in front of us. Marco acknowledged her with a thank you, but his finger continued to stroke up and down my wet panties right over my aching pussy.
He leaned close to me and his breath tickled my ear. "You're so... fucking... wet, baby... I want you so badly."
I bit down hard on my lip, and gasped. Unconsciously, I reached for him again, my face red hot, and a blush was beginning to spread across my breasts. His length was even harder; the thick, throbbing flesh was driving me mad. He let out a deep growl from the back of his throat, and I felt myself start to cream.
