Текст книги "Friction"
Автор книги: Sawyer Bennett
сообщить о нарушении
Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 18 страниц)
Leary’s neck and back arch off the bed, her head tilts back, and she groans in approval over my invasion. I pull out and thrust back in hard again, my entire body shuddering over how good her tight pussy feels around me.
Once more . . . slide out, slam back in, and Leary lets out a tiny whimper of pleasure.
My hand strokes up the side of her body, over her breast, past her collarbone, and I wrap my fingers around the front of her neck. Leary’s eyes snap open, looking at me in curiosity. I give a small squeeze to her slender throat and grind against her, my breath huffing out with exertion.
I pull out and slam back in, hard and deep, my fingers squeezing just a bit harder so I know I have her attention.
“There’s nothing to forgive,” I tell her quietly. Slide free, almost to the tip . . . pump back in to the hilt. “But you need to promise me a few things.”
She nods at me, her mouth open slightly, her eyes clouding over again as I keep tunneling in and out of her. God, she’s so fucking sexy, and it’s taking all my control not to just unleash a fury of need on her right now.
I pull out one more time, push back in, not so fast, but so deep that my pelvis grinds harshly against hers. I rotate my hips once more, grinding again. Leaning my face toward hers, I snag her lower lip between my teeth and give her a bite before letting go. I lick gently at her lip then pull back just enough so she can see my eyes.
I’m not sure what type of desperation they’re showing, but before I can finish her and me off at the same time, I have to know I have a fighting chance with her for the long haul. I need to know that she accepts me for what I am, otherwise I’m dooming myself.
“You need to promise me you know—deep in your heart—that nothing I do on this case is done to hurt you personally.”
“I do,” she murmurs. “I know that.”
I reward her with a few more luxurious thrusts of my cock.
“Promise me, Leary,” I breathe against her lips. “No matter what happens during the trial, you know and accept I’m just doing my job.”
I stroke deep inside her and she moans. I’ve lost her to the pleasure, so once again I still inside her body. Curling my hand, I now hold her by the back of the neck. I pull up, causing her head to rise off the pillow. A swift kiss . . . another bite to her lip. “Promise me, baby. You know I’m just doing my job. I’m not trying to hurt you.”
“I know,” she assures me, and she contracts her muscles around my dick, causing me to groan. “I know and I promise.”
Leary’s arms come up over my shoulders and wrap tightly around my neck. She pulls me to her face and kisses me deeply, sweetly swirling her tongue against mine. My hips start moving again, unable to hold still against this onslaught.
Our breathing picks up . . . our kissing turns deeper . . . our hips move in synchronicity, mating my cock with her pussy on the most profound level imaginable.
I have her promise. She won’t hold my job against me.
I have her promise.
I hope she keeps it.
CHAPTER 17
LEARY
“Are you going to tell me where you’re taking me?” Reeve asks me, for what I think—by last count—is the fourth time.
“No,” I tell him, giving him a side glance as he sits in the passenger seat of my car. “Let it be enough that there’s something important I want to show you, and you’ll have to cool your heels until we get there.”
It’s been four days since Reeve and I made up.
Four days since I promised him that I wouldn’t hold his job against him. That I knew and accepted that anything he did in this case was not designed to hurt me personally.
I made that promise willingly and with utter truth in my heart. I’m not willing to let this case stand in my way of being with this man. As a rational woman, I have to accept that Reeve is who he is. He’s my opponent on this case, and we can’t change that. He’s going to fight me tooth and nail when we get in that courtroom, and I’m going to fight him back just as hard. That’s the way our legal system works.
What I did with my promise is assure him that no matter how much blood we draw in the courtroom, I am not going to let it change my feelings about him.
And there are indeed feelings involved.
Deep feelings.
I realized it the minute Reeve walked away from me after the mediation. The finality of his words and his tone of voice immediately made me see that I was getting ready to lose something very good in my life. Now that I have him back, I’m going to try harder than ever to continue to cement this bond we’ve established.
And that’s why on this Saturday morning, I insisted he get up, get dressed, and we go for a drive. I told him there was something I wanted to show him.
It’s time for me to share more of who I am. It’s time for me to pull the door open wider and let him all the way in.
“Duplin County?” Reeve says as we pass a welcome sign on Interstate 40.
“Yup. Where was I born and raised,” I clarify.
Reeve’s head turns toward me quickly, and I shoot him a quick look. His eyes are round and surprised. “You’re not taking me home to meet your mom, are you?” he asks seriously. “Because we really need to stop and let me get some flowers or something.”
I laugh and reach over to pat his knee. “Um . . . no. I’d give you a better heads-up if that were the case. And besides, my mom now lives on the coast, just below Wilmington. I bought her a small house down there about two years ago.”
“Why the coast?” he asks with interest.
“She’s always loved the ocean. And just . . . you know . . . for everything she did for me growing up. All her sacrifices. I wanted her to be at peace somewhere she loved.”
Reaching over, Reeve takes my hand off the steering wheel and brings it to his mouth, where he kisses my fingertips. “You’ve got a beautiful soul, Leary. I can’t imagine how proud your mother must be of you.”
I smile and blink back the small prick of tears in my eyes over Reeve’s lovely words. The validation he gives me is a comfort, because I haven’t always been so giving to my family.
“So, if we’re not going to see your mom, what are we doing?”
“Patience, my extremely hot and sexy man.”
“Hot and sexy?” he asks with interest. “Like . . . would it be hot and sexy if I put my hand between your legs and got you off while we were driving?”
I take my eyes off the road briefly to shoot him a sharp look, just to see if he’s kidding.
And holy hell . . . he’s not. His eyes are dark and licentious as he looks back at me.
“Hands to yourself,” I croak. “I’ll wreck the car for sure.”
He chuckles and turns his head back to watch the scenery go by.
We pull off the interstate a few miles down and head into my hometown of Kenansville. I show him the town square, point out the old redbrick hospital where I was born. As we pass through town, I point down a side street and say, “If you go that way about two miles, the trailer park I grew up in is down there.”
“Want to go by there?” he asks softly.
“Nah,” I tell him with a tiny smile. “I don’t need that trip down memory lane.”
We hit the outskirts of town, follow Highway 24 for a few miles toward Jacksonville, and then I put on my blinker to make a right-hand turn. Reeve looks out the passenger window, and I can see him sit up straighter in his seat in surprise.
I pull into Shadow Glen Cemetery and follow the main road. It winds around rolling hills studded with grave markers and pine-tree clusters. When I reach the correct spot, I stop the car, put it in park, and turn off the ignition.
Without looking at Reeve, I get out of my car and I hear him doing the same. It’s relatively comfortable outside for November, and the small sweater I put on over my blouse is enough to keep me warm.
Reeve meets me at the front of my car, and I hold my hand out to him. He takes it, wrapping his large hand around mine protectively, and I turn to lead him up a small grassy knoll.
I weave my way past three rows of graves and come to stop in front of a large headstone of a deep, dark gray, which has a matching stone bench sitting alongside the grave. I point at the headstone and say simply, “My sister . . . Lauren.”
Reeve is silent as he reads the words carved into the monument. I didn’t spare any expense.
LAUREN RENEE MICHAELS
SLEEP WELL, OUR DAUGHTER AND SISTER.
TAKE THY REST FOR GOD CALLED THEE HOME
SO YOUR PAIN AND OURS IS NO MORE.
1990–2011
“She had just turned twenty-one before she died,” I murmur, then bend to pluck a few weeds at the base of the granite stone, tossing them to the side.
“What happened?” Reeve asks softly.
I stand back up, feeling my knees pop, and turn to face him. “A drug overdose. Heroin.”
He brings a hand up to stroke my cheek. “I’m sorry.”
Leaning into him, closing my eyes, I say, “Me, too. She was a good person, a kind woman. She just had demons that she couldn’t conquer.”
Stepping back, I take Reeve’s hand and pull him over to the stone bench. I bought this last year so Mom, Jenna, and I could have a place to sit when we came to visit Lauren.
After we sit down, Reeve’s arm comes around my shoulder, and he pulls me in close. I lay my head on his shoulder and stare at Lauren’s grave.
“You asked me a few times why Jenna’s case is so important to me.”
“Yeah,” he says in a soft voice.
“She was Lauren’s best friend. They grew up together, were inseparable, really. Lauren and Jenna partied hard, ran with a bad crowd, barely graduated from high school. They both moved to Raleigh when they turned eighteen.”
“You would have been, what . . . twenty-three?” he asks.
“Yeah, just finishing up my last year at Stanford. Honestly, I was so busy with law school, I really didn’t pay too much attention to what was going on with Lauren. The five-year age difference ensured we weren’t overly close growing up. Mom kept me up-to-date on her. I knew she was partying. She was dancing to make a living, same as Jenna. Living a pretty hard life. But honestly, it was so far removed from me and where I was, I didn’t care too much about it.”
“Nothing you could have done anyway,” Reeve says softly.
“Probably not. At least not while I was living out in California,” I agree. “But within a year, I was back in Raleigh. Jenna got pregnant with Damien and she cleaned up her act. Stopped the drugs and partying. Lived with Damien’s father for a bit, so he supported her. She and Lauren drifted apart a bit during that time, and Lauren got worse. Started using hard-core drugs. She would come to me often asking for money. I’d refuse to give it to her. Refused to reinforce her drug habit.”
“That’s exactly what you should have done.”
“I know. But maybe I could have done more. I tried to talk her into rehab, but did I really try hard enough? Should I have been more proactive? I was just starting out at Knight & Payne, and I was so consumed with my new career that I just didn’t give her a lot of thought and effort.”
Reeve stays silent but his arm tightens around me.
“Eventually, Jenna left Damien’s father and she and Lauren started to get close again. They lived together, both of them continuing to dance. Jenna stayed clean, though, and Lauren, well, she continued to party. Jenna spent a lot of time cleaning up Lauren’s messes. Bailed her out of jail more than once. Got her to go to rehab once, but she relapsed a few weeks after she got out. Cleaned vomit off her after a hard night of partying.”
“Jenna’s quite a woman,” Reeve says.
“I feel an obligation to her,” I clarify. “She did things for Lauren, cared for her in ways that I never did. And in ways that my mom couldn’t. She tried hard to get Lauren straightened out, but it was all in vain. She loved Lauren like a sister. Was closer to her than I ever could have been. And I watch as Jenna struggles to take care of Damien, and it reminds me so much of my mom and her sacrifices. So, yes, that’s why this case is so important to me. Jenna deserves someone to take care of her now. It’s my way of maybe paying her back for being so selfless in caring for my own flesh and blood. She never gave up on Lauren, when I think maybe I did.”
Reeve’s shoulders heave with a huge sigh. He tilts his head and kisses me on top of my head. “I get it now.”
Pulling out of his embrace, I turn to face him and step forward, pushing my way in between his knees. My hands go to his broad shoulders, and his come to my waist. He tilts his face up to me, and the first thing I do is ply him with a chastely sweet kiss.
His lips are velvety soft, his breath warm against mine.
Leaning back, I say, “I will never have another case in my career as important as this one. I’ve put more effort into this case than any other, the stakes for me are higher than any other, and yet it’s all out of my control. I know that I could lose it all. I accept that. I can only do my best. And I know, without a doubt, that you will do a good job defending the case. I know it’s your job and that you’re doing it out of duty to your employer and to our legal code of ethics. I’m at peace with that. I just wanted you to know everything about me before we go further. I wanted you to understand why I flipped out on you before, but also to reiterate my promise to you again that I won’t take your involvement personally.”
I can’t gauge the look on Reeve’s face as he listens to me tell him this. His eyes are almost blank, his facial muscles lax. He just stares at me, and for the briefest of moments, I think I might see a tinge of regret.
Maybe regret over what I’ve been through?
Or perhaps it’s guilt.
Guilt for his role in opposing his lover on a case that’s embedded in her heart?
I’m not sure, but before I can explore it, Reeve pulls me closer and presses his face into the center of my chest. He huffs out a deep, hot breath that seeps through my clothing and warms my skin. His arms band around me tight. He wraps me into an all-consuming hug, turning his cheek to rest right over my heart. My hands slip into his hair, and I hold his head against me tighter.
We stay like that for several minutes. A comforting hug of understanding and appreciation. My conscience is now clear. I’m not holding anything back from Reeve.
I’m all-in with him, and once this case is over, there will be absolutely nothing standing in our way.
I slip out of Reeve’s embrace at first light and leave him peacefully sleeping in his bed. I’m the early riser, and since it’s Sunday, I feel the urge to make him breakfast.
This says a lot, since I’m not the best cook, but I can manage bacon and scrambled eggs.
I first make a pot of coffee, pour a cup, and grab my phone. There’s something I’ve been wanting to do since taking Reeve to Lauren’s grave yesterday, and I haven’t had the opportunity to do it. Now that he’s asleep and I have a tiny bit of privacy, I turn my phone on and dial Jenna.
Because she’s an early riser like me, I have no qualms about calling at this hour. She answers in a cheery voice, “Hey, Leary. Please don’t tell me you’re already working on a Sunday morning.”
“No work today,” I assure her with a laugh. “I was just checking in to see how you’re doing.”
“You mean am I pissed about the mediation and that they didn’t offer anything?” she teases.
“Well, are you? Pissed?” I venture tentatively.
“No, babe. I told you I’m not expecting a damn thing from this case. Anything you can get for me is something I didn’t have yesterday. If you don’t get me anything, I’m the same as I am today.”
A gust of breath pops out of me as I sigh into the phone. “Why can’t I be as calm and centered as you are?”
“Trust me,” she says with a tinkling laugh. “Have a kid with autism. You learn how to be centered very quickly.”
I smile to myself, because Jenna has indeed mastered that.
“Actually,” I tell her as I take a seat at Reeve’s kitchen table, “I’m calling you about something else.”
“Shoot,” she says simply. “Damien’s watching TV, so I have a bit of quiet time.”
Toying with the handle on my coffee cup, I shoot a quick glance down the hallway that leads back to Reeve’s bedroom. His door is still shut tight, and I’m all alone.
“I went to visit Lauren yesterday,” I tell her softly by way of starting out not at the beginning but sort of near the end.
“Oh, you did?” she asks with a hint of disappointment. “I would have gone with you.”
“It was spur-of-the-moment,” I assure her, my mind drifting back to the memory of Reeve hugging me graveside. “Something I had to do.”
“Hey,” she asks softly, “are you okay? You sound a little funny.”
Clearing my throat, I assure her, “Yeah, I’m fine. Actually . . . really good, in fact.”
“Oh my God,” she gushes into the phone. “You met someone.”
I laugh, because ever since Lauren died, and especially since I started representing Jenna, we’ve become pretty close. She’s always lamenting that I don’t have a boyfriend.
“Yes,” I tell her softly, cutting my glance back down at Reeve’s bedroom door. I want nothing more than to just crawl back in bed, snuggle into his warmth. “I met someone.”
“Tell me everything,” she says in a whisper, I know, for Damien’s benefit. “And don’t hold back a single sexy detail.”
Giggling, I push my hair behind my ear and raise my feet to plant on the bottom of the kitchen chair. Wrapping one arm around my knees, I go ahead and come clean. “Jenna . . . the thing is . . . um . . . I’m actually kind of involved with Reeve Holloway.”
She’s silent . . . not even a tiny breath. Then she says, “Holy fucking shit.”
“I know this is unconventional—”
“Holy. Fucking. Shit,” she repeats breathlessly. “That guy is H-O-T. I mean, really freakin’ hot. Jesus . . . how long has this been going on? Before my deposition?”
“Um . . . yeah . . . not long after that first motion to dismiss I had to argue,” I say hesitantly. “And the thing is, Jenna—”
“Oh my God . . . this is fantastic. You’re a tough nut to crack, but he definitely looks like the type of guy that could totally crack you,” she says with a mercurial laugh.
“But Jenna, the thing you have to consider is—”
“Is he good in bed? Please tell me he’s good in bed. It’s been so long that I can’t remember what good in bed feels like,” she chatters away at me.
“Jenna!” I exclaim.
“What?”
“You need to listen to me for a minute,” I say with exasperation.
“Jeez. I’m listening,” she snaps.
“What I’m doing . . . being involved with the opposing counsel in your case . . . it has certain ethical implications,” I begin, choosing my words carefully so she has no misunderstanding over what I’m saying.
“Have you shared any info on our case with him?” she asks quickly.
“No, but—”
“Are you going to throw my case because you don’t want it to impact your relationship?”
“Of course not,” I say adamantly.
“Is anything about your relationship going to negatively harm my case?”
“No,” I say quietly. “I swear to you we do not discuss the case outside the normal bounds of professional communication. But I had to let you know what was going on. You are more important right now, and if you want me to break it off with him until after the trial, I will do it in a heartbeat. Reeve would understand, too.”
“Oh, sweet girl,” Jenna says, and I can hear the smile in her voice. “I trust you implicitly. I’m not worried about it, and I know if you think it’s a problem, you’ll do what’s right.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, chewing on my bottom lip.
“Positive,” she validates.
I breathe out a swift gust of air, and with it my anxiety, and I close my eyes in thanks. I would break things off with Reeve—temporarily, of course—if Jenna was uncomfortable with this. But I’m immensely happy that she trusts me to do what’s right.
That means I can still have my cake and eat it, too.
CHAPTER 18
REEVE
I step off the elevator onto the twenty-first floor and turn left toward the civil superior courtrooms and the judges’ chambers that are ensconced in the hallway behind said courtrooms. Leary and I are supposed to meet with Judge Henry this afternoon for our pretrial conference to go over our final list of issues for the jury to decide as well as the witnesses and exhibits. The judge will also try to lean on us to settle the case, but good luck with that. Tom Collier is barely speaking to me, but there’s one thing he relayed loud and clear.
There will be no settlement offers made to Jenna LaPietra.
Not ever.
I take a quick peek through the glass cutouts of the wooden doors to courtroom 21C and see that Judge Henry is still on the bench, listening as an attorney stands at counsel table and makes his argument. Judge Henry’s secretary sent word over to my office—as well as Leary’s, I assume—that he got called in to an emergency restraining-order hearing and would be running about fifteen minutes late to our pretrial conference. I still show up on time, mainly hoping Leary would, too, and I could just hang with her for a little bit. She left my house seven hours ago and will be back at my house tonight, yet I still want to take as much opportunity as possible to be near her.
During the trial I’m going to destroy Jenna’s case and Leary in the process. It’s a thought that keeps me awake at night, makes me snap at the tiniest of provocations at work, and makes me desperate to steal every precious moment with Leary that I can.
She’s promised me that she won’t hold my job and what I have to do in the courtroom against me, which I might have believed at one point, but not after she took me to Lauren’s grave.
Not after she shared with me the nature of her relationship with Jenna.
Not after I learned what Jenna did for Lauren.
Turning away from the courtroom, I head through a set of double doors and enter into the back halls of the civil superior court division. Pulling out my phone, I try to call Rhonda Valasquez again.
As expected, I get her voice mail.
“Ms. Valasquez, this is Reeve Holloway again. I’d really, really like to talk to you. I do represent Dr. Summerland, but even if you know something that could hurt my case, I’d still like to hear it. It could help settle the case, spare Jenna LaPietra a stressful trial. Please call me back. You have my number.”
I hang up, knowing deep down that this woman won’t call me back. I have no clue what she knows about Dr. Summerland, but she knows something. The funny thing is, I’m not seeking the information hoping I can use the knowledge to protect Dr. Summerland. I think I’m really hoping she’ll tell me something that would help Leary’s case. Not that I could ever disclose that to Leary. That would be as big of an ethical violation as if I told her about the rebuttal witnesses I’m going to call to attack Jenna. I have no clue what I’m hoping to accomplish, but I feel that Valasquez is important for some reason.
I walk into Judge Henry’s office suite and smile at his secretary, who sits at a small cherrywood desk outside the judge’s chambers.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Holloway,” she says with a warm smile.
Sneaking a quick look at the nameplate on her desk, I say, “Good afternoon, Mary.”
“Judge Henry is still hearing a motion right now, but Miss Michaels is already in his office. You can go in. He shouldn’t be but ten more minutes or so.”
I nod at her and head into the interior office, knowing that in about two seconds I’ll be looking at Leary’s beautiful face, and my oxygen will feel a little sweeter once I’m in her air space.
I’ve been in Judge Henry’s office before. It has typical dark paneled-wood walls, commercial-grade burgundy carpet, and dark-cherry furniture that matches his secretary’s desk. He has two leather wing-back chairs, also in burgundy, that sit opposite his desk, and at the sound of my entrance, Leary leans to the side and peeks her face around the side of one. Her eyes rake over me quickly, and her lips curve upward in a sinful smile.
I close the door and she says, “Hey, stud.”
Striding over to her, I don’t bother with a response. Instead, I place my left hand on the back of her chair and lean over the top. Her face tilts up and I give her an upside-down kiss. “Hey, beautiful.”
She snakes a hand up, and it curves around the back of my neck, pulling me back down. She kisses me this time, slipping her tongue deep in my mouth, and the sweet sensations of pleasure and peace run through me.
This woman riles me up like no other, yet makes me entirely calm at the same time.
Unreal.
I pull slowly away from her, loving the way her eyes are closed and a satisfied smile is left behind.
Stepping to the side of the chair and squatting down beside her, I bring my hand up and rest it on her knee. “What are you doing the rest of the day after we finish this conference? Want to knock off early and go do something?”
“I have a partners’ meeting at four p.m. We’re voting on next year’s partnership candidates,” she says, a wistful tone in her voice.
“Bummer,” I say with a sad smile. “Are you coming over tonight?”
“You know I am,” she says, and the promise in her voice has me wishing for time to go wonky and fast-forward by about five hours.
Looking back over my shoulder at the closed office door, I slide my hand up just a little higher on her leg. When I turn back toward her, I lean in a little closer and squeeze her leg. “Why don’t you give me a peek of what you have under that skirt? Give me something to think about the rest of the day?”
She snickers at me and tries to bat my hand off her leg. “We’re sitting in a judge’s office, Reeve. Show some decency,” she admonishes without any real censure in her tone.
Grinning, I slide my hand up a little higher. “I have no decency where you’re concerned.”
Her hand slams onto my wrist and grips it tightly, trying to halt my momentum. “Stop it,” she growls—or is that a purr?
“Just a peek, baby,” I cajole. “Black lace, right?”
“You’re not looking,” she says primly.
I straighten my fingers out, turn my wrist slightly, and they find her bare skin just above the lace of her stockings. “If you won’t let me look, how about a touch?”
“No,” she hisses and attempts to slam her legs together. I anticipate this, though, and shove my hand all the way in between her thighs until I cup her pussy. Grinding the heel of my hand on her, I whisper, “Touch or look, baby? What’s it going to be?”
“Reeve,” she says in a moan, “Judge Henry could walk in any moment.”
“Maybe,” I say. “And that would be really awkward. So quit fighting me and give me just a look or a touch and I’ll leave you alone.”
Leary’s eyes flash hot at me with both annoyance and lust. “Fine,” she snaps. “A quick touch.”
Chuckling, I pull my hand back a tad so I can angle a finger under the elastic band that rests in the crease of her leg. Just as I get the tip of my index finger inside, I hear Judge Henry’s booming voice out in the office area. The walls must be paper-thin, because I can hear him tell Mary, “Here are my notes on the restraining order. Go ahead and type me up a rough draft and print it out double spaced.”
“Reeve,” Leary says in panic and starts to push at my hand lodged between her legs.
Mary’s voice comes through the door, “Right away, Judge Henry. But first, can I ask you a few questions about your accommodations for the judges’ conference next month? I’m having trouble booking your flights.”
Leary continues to push at my hand, but I hold it rock solid.
“Move your hand and get away from me,” she whispers harshly.
Shaking my head, I give her an evil smile, working my finger under the elastic. “I want my touch first.”
“He’ll be coming in any second now,” she protests.
“Just give in, baby,” I urge her with a grin. “Five seconds, I’m in and out and then I’ll leave you alone.”
My heartbeat is slamming so hard against my chest, I’m sure Judge Henry and Mary can hear it outside the door. But for some reason, I don’t want to give in. My need to touch Leary, to feel what’s between those silken lips, has become imperative to me.
“Fine,” she grits out, and her legs spread for me.
Fuck, yeah.
I slide my finger all the way in, swipe it through the lips of her pussy, and immediately find her practically dripping. I consider my options. A quick flutter over her clit or a bit of a deeper invasion?
Fuck . . . I want her to remember this all day while she’s sitting in her stupid partner meeting. I opt for deep invasion.
I shove my finger inside her, easily sliding home because she’s so wet. All the way up to my third knuckle and curl it upward. “Oh, baby. Fuck me . . . so damn wet.”
Leary does nothing but moan and jerk her hips. I smile big but sadly as I pull my finger out. The conversation outside the door seems to be wrapping up. Tugging the edge of her panties back in place, I remove my hand from between her legs and stand up.
Leary’s face is flushed pink, and she hastily scrambles to smooth her skirt down. When she looks up at me, I stick my finger in my mouth and suck it clean. “Mmm, baby. You are delicious.”
“Oh God,” she mutters and then adds in a complaining tone, “you are so going to fuck me good tonight to make up for that.”
Winking at her, I reach down and adjust the semi I’m sporting and stride over to the chair beside hers, sitting down and crossing my legs in gentlemanly fashion. She slides a glance at me, shooting me a look of exasperation.
Before she can turn away, I say, “Hey.”
“What?” she whispers.
“I adore you.”
She smiles at me, not with just her beautiful lips, but with every prism of color in those fantastic eyes, and then Judge Henry opens the door and walks through.
We both start to stand up, but he shoots an impatient wave at us as he starts to unzip his black robe. “No. Sit, sit. No formalities here.”
Both Leary and I say a quick hello as he removes his robe and hangs it on a hook on the back of his door. As he walks to his desk, he cuts us both a quick look and nods a greeting.
Then he does a double take at Leary. “Are you feeling all right, Miss Michaels? You look a little flushed.”
She’s as smooth as silk when she says, “Thank you for asking, Your Honor. I’m fine. Just decided to take the stairs rather than the elevator.”
“Oh, good, good,” he says absently as he sits down in his chair. Pulling his glasses from his face, he takes a moment to clean them with his tie and then puts them back on.
“Okay, so we’re here for the pretrial conference for LaPietra v. Summerland, et al., correct?”
