I am so sorry that it took this long to write this chapter, it's just been sitting here for nearly two weeks waiting to be posted, I'm sorry!

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Chapter 3- Temptation

His mouth was dry, his palms sweaty, there was no way to misinterpret what she'd just said, she was offering herself to him…how much had he dreamt of this? But he couldn't. What were her intentions? A one night stand? An itch she felt inclined to scratch? He didn't want to be an itch, he wanted to be a burning desire.

"I may have to take you up on that offer Bolly." He smiled his devilish smile. He would worry later, for now, he wanted it.

They went to Luigi's, it was safe there, if things went wrong then they could pretend it never happened and say it was a chance meeting, if things went right, then her apartment was only upstairs. Gene ordered them a bottle of red, more expensive than the usual, and he hoped she'd notice. He also strictly told Luigi not to let them get too drunk tonight as soon as Alex was out of earshot, if things progressed that evening then he didn't want it to be under the influence of alcohol, he wanted it to be real, that way, he'd know.

She ordered pasta, he did the same. They drank their wine slowly, savouring the taste for once. The conversation whilst they ate was light and neutral, deliberately not speaking about themselves, when they'd finished, they sat together with a new bottle, the conversation not as careful.

"So, Gene?" She asked, eyes sparkling. "What do you want from me?"

"I want…" he hesitated, what did he want? I want to take you upstairs right now and give you the time of your life? I want to tell you… What?? "I want an answer Bolls, what am I to you?"

She opened her mouth to speak, then closed it again, Gene Hunt, you prat.

"You're Gene Hunt, my callous, rude, pre-historic boss, that just so happens to be the very thing that's keeping me here."

Was she serious? What did she mean? Bloody women! He just poured her some more wine.

An hour later, Alex stood ready to leave and held out a hand to Gene. "What do you say, Gene, 'they died with their boots on'?" She smiled.

She had had too much to drink, damn that Italian and his soft heart. He couldn't take her like this; his mind tried to tell his body, even though it wasn't listening, his blood pulsed through his veins at an enormous speed, and he just wanted to say yes. To take her hand, follow her upstairs…But he knew a part of him would never, could never…for Christ's sake she was his DI!

"I can't Bolls, long day tomorrow, and I didn't exactly get much kip last night on that ruddy sofa." even to himself the excuse sounded so lame.

Her disappointment was evident and he just wished he knew what was going on in her head. She politely thanked him for the meal and headed towards the stairs alone. He couldn't do it.

"Alex?" He reached out for her arm and felt the familiar tingle from their physical contact.

"Gene?"

She didn't say anymore. His lips were on hers, kissing her slowly. His arms found their way around the small of her back and hers around his neck. It was better than he'd ever imagined, ever fantasized, God she tasted so wonderful. Everything he'd never told her, everything he'd ever thought about her, he poured into the kiss, she was so amazing, he could do this forever and never tire of DI Alex Drake. She surprised him even then, the kiss changed, became aggressive and heated, much like their never-ending arguments.

The sound of glass shattering reminded them of where they were. Chris had dropped a bottle, Luigi was spouting profanities in Italian, and most importantly Alex was smiling.

"Good night Alex." He told her quietly, making his way to the door. He felt wonderful and he was sober.

"Good night Gene" She whispered back and turned to the steps once more.

What was that? If he'd just wanted sex he'd have had her there and then, especially after that kiss, how did he just walk away? Did he care more than she thought? Was Gene Hunt capable of being a gentleman? Alex practically skipped up the stairs feeling surreally elated. Happy. The feeling felt strange, for the first time in a long long time she was truly happy. Shit. She'd never get home now, God this was confusing. She turned the key in her door, this was feeling more and more like home, she was even growing to like the style, the clothes and -God help her- her curly hair.

Across town, Gene was just arriving back at his own flat. He slung his coat over the arm chair as he usually did, kicked off his shoes and already had the scotch bottle in his hand before he even reached the kitchen for a glass. What the hell. He drank it straight from the bottle. What a night. All he could think about was her, all he could feel was the soft silk-like texture of her skin, her lips, her scent. It was getting bad now. It was way beyond want now, the old and unfamiliar feeling in his gut was all pointing in the direction of something more, something powerful. And all by some leggy, nutty, posh bird. He sighed. His eyes scanned the flat he could never truly call home, he had very few comforts and the space possessed a feel that it was rarely inhabited, Gene never spent more time than was necessary there, it only reminded him of how lonely he was.

Without really thinking, he sat down and pulled a small tin box towards him, it was dinted and old and contained his most prized possessions.

Slowly, he emptied the contents onto his unused coffee table: an old black and white photograph of a much younger him and his ex-wife on their wedding day, an even older one of his parents, the St Christopher that had once belonged to Sam Tyler, an extremely old child-like drawing of the two Hunt brothers, Gene and Stuart, a lock of blonde hair and a photograph of the child to which it belonged- the only existing photo of Thomas Hunt.

What had become of him? The mighty Manc Lion who's life had been reduced to little more than a tin box full of crumpled bits of paper. In a city where no-one knew him, DCI Gene Hunt was almost drowning. London was too big for him, though he'd never admit it. For years it had all been about the job, it ate at you, one man could only see so much death before it took it's toll. The Missus had seen it, she had seen her loveable husband turn cold and heartless, a slave to the job, he'd never been home, when he was, he was drunk. Gene was a monster. He was glad she'd left him. Now what was he doing? Alex was a lot younger than him, better looking, educated, posh, why did he even think he had a chance? He honestly didn't know anymore, when he first saw her, it had been lust, sex-drive, but over time had it developed into something more. All this thinking made his head hurt, he put the bottle to his lips again and lit a cigarette.

That night Gene Hunt once again dreamt of Alex Drake. And not for the first time, Alex Drake dreamt of Gene Hunt.

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Is this the end? TBH I have no idea, is it? You decide for me please :P And thank you so much for actually bothering to read! I love you all!

Bolly

xx JM xx