Текст книги "Friction"

Автор книги: Sawyer Bennett

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CHAPTER 4

REEVE

The phone on my desk rings and I hit the speaker button. “Talk to me.”

“Mr. Holloway, you have a visitor down here in the lobby,” our receptionist says in a low tone. “She’s not on your appointment calendar.”

I glance down at my watch. The package was delivered to Leary about an hour ago, so she’s right on time.

I can’t help the grin that forms on my face.

“Let me guess,” I say casually. “Leary Michaels from Knight & Payne.”

“Yes, sir,” she says smoothly.

“Sign her in and send her to my office.”

Disconnecting the call, I lean back in my chair and take a deep breath, my eyes pinned on my door. Leary will be walking through it any moment, and I suspect she will be either very pissed off or very turned on—perhaps both.

Even with what little I know about her, I’m going to guess both.

That, of course, is an easy guess. I’ve already proven that I have an uncanny ability to piss her off. And our little interlude in the courthouse hallway? Yeah . . . she was fucking turned on when I slid my finger along the edges of her panties.

I know that I’m playing with fire. Any sane, rational female attorney would have taken the stockings and note card and made a direct complaint to the North Carolina State Bar about my behavior.

I’m taking a bit of a gamble with Leary. I don’t figure her for the type to cry to the teacher when her pigtails get pulled at recess. No, I expect she’s the type who’d throw a right hook back, and the mere fact that she’s here—in person at my office—well, that leads me to believe I’ve got her pegged.

She’s not going to report me.

Leary doesn’t even bother to knock on my closed office door. She merely opens it and strides right in as if she owns the place, not even bothering to shut it behind her.

Looking magnificent in a formfitting black shirtdress with black tights, knee-high tan boots, and a scarf around her neck in taupe, orange, and black, she comes off with polished sophistication. Her hair is loose, cut in long layers of chocolate silk that frame her shoulders and pour down her back.

And those soft brown eyes, looking almost bronze from the afternoon sun pouring in from my office window.

I’m a sucker for eyes.

“This is a pleasant surprise,” I say cordially and motion with my hand for her to take a seat.

She smiles at me nicely enough but ignores my invitation, instead walking beside my desk right up to my office window. It’s floor-to-ceiling tinted glass that overlooks the capitol building. If I lean all the way back and to the right in my chair, I can see the top of the Watts Building, where she works just a few blocks over.

Crossing her arms over her chest, she gazes out with an almost serene look on her face. I swivel my chair forty-five degrees so I face her, but I don’t say a word, waiting for her to make the first move in this metaphorical chess game we seem to be playing with each other.

“Jenna wasn’t prostituting herself at Pure Fantasy,” she says in an even voice.

“So just deny the request,” I reply matter-of-factly.

“I will,” she says, uncrossing her arms and flicking an impatient hand at me as she turns her body toward mine. “But I want to know why you asked. That wasn’t a shot in the dark. You had some reason to ask it.”

We lock eyes for a moment, then I let my gaze casually travel down her body. She’s built like a damn swimsuit model, dressed in expensive designer clothing, but I can tell she’d look fantastic in burlap.

Or just those silk stockings I bought her.

“You know I can’t divulge that,” I tell her. “It’s attorney work product.”

“Cut the shit, Holloway,” she snaps as she narrows her eyes at me. “You know I can find out with a few craftily questioned interrogatories of my own. Why not throw me some professional courtesy and tell me?”

My eyebrows raise at her, because I hear more than just irritation in her voice. I hear something close to sadness. Something about this case, maybe this question in particular, is very personal to her. I find this intriguing, and I also know that I can potentially use this as a weapon at some point down the road.

Resting my elbows on my armrests, I steeple my fingers in front of my face and give her a calculating look. “I’ll tell you for an exchange of information. Tell me why this particular question has you wigged out so much. You could easily deny it, and if your client truly hasn’t committed any crime, you have nothing to worry about. So tell me what I want to know, and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”

The corner of Leary’s lip turns up in what I’m thinking might be a sneer, but before she fully engages, she turns away from the window and heads toward the door. “Sorry . . . I don’t negotiate.”

Whoa, what the fuck?

I lunge from my chair and snag her wrist, stopping her before she can even make it past the edge of my desk. Her skin is soft under my hand, and she smells fucking fantastic. If it weren’t for the glare that she’s shooting me right now, I’d consider kissing the answer out of her.

Instead, I surprise myself by giving her exactly what she wants without the expectation of anything in return. “I ran a criminal background check on the owner of the club. He’s been busted twice before for whoring his girls out. This was during the time your client worked there.”

“That doesn’t mean she was prostituting herself,” Leary asserts.

“No, it doesn’t,” I acquiesce, stroking the inside of her wrist with my thumb. Leary still wears irritation all over her face, but her body relaxes slightly. “But based on what I found, you know that it was a legitimate question.”

“It was dirty,” she seethes.

“Probing,” I counter.

“Slick.”

“Wait a minute, are we still talking about the question or something else here?” I murmur, tugging on her wrist and pulling her in just a tad closer to me.

I’m stunned when Leary’s cheeks turn pink and she lowers her eyes coyly. I didn’t think this woman had a shy bone in her body, but I’m enjoying the power I’m obviously wielding over her.

“I can’t believe a little double entendre has you blushing,” I taunt, rubbing my finger over her wrist. A tiny gasp escapes her lips, and her eyes raise up to mine filled with confusion and desire.

I find it incredibly difficult to get one up on this woman, and just moments ago, she had me rolling over and spilling my guts to her. This moment now . . . where I have her flustered?

Feels fucking awesome and causes my cock to harden.

Leary takes in a stuttering breath, nibbles on her lower lip.

My cock goes harder yet.

“I can’t tell if you’re baiting me or you’re truly attracted to me. I find it confusing,” she whispers, and for a moment, I’m confused myself. This hesitant, almost shy side to Leary is at odds with the woman who stripped in front of me in the elevator.

I’m not sure I like it.

“But,” she says with more confidence in her voice, stepping in closer to me until mere inches separate our bodies, “there’s only one sure way to find out.”

Then she drops her free hand down and cups me between my legs. Her fingers immediately grasp and curl around my erection, squeezing me tight and even giving a firm stroke up my shaft. My eyes close, my head tilts back, and I can’t stop the groan that comes out of my mouth.

Just like that, she’s back in control.

Just like that, I realize her shyness was nothing but a fucking act.

“Mmm,” Leary purrs. “Very nice. I’d have to say you’re definitely attracted to me.”

A brief thought runs through my head: my office door is open, and anyone could walk by and see what we’re doing. But for the life of me, I can’t seem to care enough to stop whatever this is.

Instead, I cover her hand with my own and urge her fingers to grip me harder as I push my hips forward to create more friction. If her hand feels this good, I can’t imagine what her mouth would feel like.

“I can’t believe you’d even have any doubt I was attracted to you,” I tell her gruffly.

She laughs, deep and husky, and no doubt she feels me swell even larger in her hand. “I never doubted it. I just wanted an excuse to see what you were packing down below.”

Pressing up on her tiptoes, she leans toward me and nips my chin with her teeth. Then she’s pulling away from me, those sweet fingers letting my dick go, and I almost grab her back to me.

“Well, this has been enlightening,” she says as she turns away and walks toward the door. When she gets to it, she turns to me as an afterthought. “And thank you for the stockings. They’re lovely.”

“And might I be seeing them on you sometime?” I ask as I reach down and adjust myself.

Her eyes follow my hand and she smirks. “Now that would just be a bit unethical, don’t you think?”

“You just had your hand on my dick,” I point out courteously. “I think we crossed that line already.”

Shooting me a grin, she doesn’t respond but turns back toward the door.

“Wait,” I call out, and she turns once again, an amused look on her face. “Let me take you out to dinner tonight.”

“Can’t,” she says simply. “I have plans.”

“A date?”

“Possibly,” she says with an impish grin. “But not really any of your business.”

In three long strides, I’m across my office floor and my hand is circling the front of her neck. I grip her hard enough to get her attention and reel her in closer to me. I can tell she’s been enjoying our banter, and I can also tell she enjoys when my alpha tendencies take over, as evidenced by the way her eyes flare hot.

Leaning in, I place my lips along her jaw, skim them lightly to her ear. “It’s irrelevant to me if you have a date tonight. I’m only interested if when you go to bed, you’ll be thinking of your date or my cock. Maybe you’ll call me tomorrow and tell me.”

I release my hold on Leary, relishing the uncertainty in her eyes. If she expected me to get jealous over a potential date, she can put that right out of her beautiful head. It’s not that I don’t have the power to get jealous, it’s that I don’t like being goaded into it.

Confident I’ve had the last word and this conversation is ending with me having the upper hand, I turn from Leary and head back toward my desk.

“Is there anything else we need to discuss about this case?” I ask as I grasp the back of my chair and swivel it around to me.

I’m met with silence, and when I look back toward the door, she’s gone.

Pulling out my phone, I send a quick text to my buddy Ford. Heading out early. Want to get a beer?

We met last year playing in a rugby league together and since then have become pretty tight. He works at Knight & Payne as well . . . is a partner, actually, so maybe I can get some personal scoop on the beautiful Miss Leary Michaels. Their firm is gigantic, so he might not even know her all that well, but I figure it doesn’t hurt to ask. Maybe he’ll help me get a better grip on what I’m dealing with.

I drain the rest of my beer, pushing the empty glass toward the edge of the bar just as I see Ford walk into Carter’s, a local hangout just across the street from the courthouse, where most of the litigation attorneys hang out.

After stopping for handshakes, back slaps, and one woman who caresses Ford’s chest when he leans over to kiss her cheek, he finally makes his way over to me. After he’s perched on the stool next to me, he waves at the bartender and points to my glass, then holds up two fingers, effectively ordering the next round.

“So what’s up, man?” he asks casually. “I think sign-ups for the rugby league are starting next week. You in?”

“Definitely in,” I tell him. “Nothing like getting your ass pounded into the ground to make you appreciate the day job, right?”

Ford laughs and reaches for the beer the bartender just set down in front of us.

“Put it on my tab,” I tell the bartender, who nods and saunters off.

“Working on any good cases?” I ask Ford as I snag a few peanuts from the bowl before me.

“Same old shit, different day,” he says unenthusiastically. I’ve noticed a certain lack of excitement over his career lately, and I wonder if he’s getting burned out. He’s been practicing for fifteen years, and litigation is a tough business. The stress factor is extremely high.

“What about you?” he asks.

“Actually, I wanted to get some scoop from you on one of your associate attorneys. I have a case against her, and she’s been a little difficult to deal with so far.”

“I don’t know all the associates, but I’ll try,” he says, grabbing some peanuts for himself.

“Her name is Leary Michaels. It’s a medical malpractice case we have together that we just started.”

“Fuck,” Ford groans and then leans forward to bang his head lightly against the wooden bar. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“What?” When Ford sits back up straight, he pins me with a death glare.

“You’re defending the LaPietra case?” he practically snarls.

“Yeah,” I say with some hesitation. “And I’m sensing this pisses you off for some reason, but fuck if I know why.”

Leaning toward me, he growls, “Maybe because you had your hand up Leary’s skirt at the courthouse the other day.”

I rear back, completely astounded that Ford knows this.

And then it immediately stands to reason in my mind that he knows this because Leary told him.

This naturally leads me to conclude that they are very close, otherwise she would never have casually mentioned something like that.

“Are you fucking her?” I grit out, completely annoyed over the surge of jealousy that just flowed through me.

Ford is now the one who rears back from me, surprise in his eyes. “No, I’m not fucking her. What kind of question is that?”

His voice sounds firm and confident in his denial, but there’s something in his eyes that seems a bit secretive. I ignore his question, instead pushing him on his relationship with Leary. “What exactly is your relationship, then? Why would she ever tell you what happened at the courthouse?”

“Because we’re friends,” Ford says defensively. “Very good friends. I was her supervising attorney when she first started at the firm, and she’s a partner, by the way, not an associate attorney.”

“She’s a partner?” I ask, astounded. “She can’t be more than twenty-eight.”

“She’s twenty-nine, and she earned it. She’s got a hundred percent win record, which I don’t have to tell you is almost impossible to achieve.”

I whistle through my teeth, considering that and feeling for the first time in my legal career perhaps a bit intimidated. Not only is Leary the most confident and sexiest woman I’ve ever met but she uses her confidence and sex appeal like a weapon, which coupled with her apparent legal prowess means I need to bring my A game to this war.

“Look, man,” Ford says, sounding a bit more conciliatory, “not cool what you did.”

I snort and then take a sip of beer. I give Ford the stink eye. “She started it.”

“Seriously?” he asks with his jaw dropping. “You’re going with ‘she started it’?”

“Well, she did, and let me tell you . . . she has some metaphorical balls forged of steel and lined with platinum. I’m assuming she told you what she did to me in the elevator?”

“Yeah, she did, but—”

“And did she tell you she also completely assassinated my character in front of the judge and trampled all over my man card in open court?”

“No, she didn’t say that, but—”

“For fuck’s sake, Ford.” I turn on my stool to look at him. “She practically fucking dared me to do that to her. And just so you don’t have any doubts, she liked it.”

“How could you even know she liked—”

“And before you even think about keeping that perch on your high horse, you should know she was in my office this afternoon flashing her metaphorical platinum-and-steel balls around, with her hand wrapped around my cock. Now, I can tell you I most certainly liked that, but I’m betting you already know by the look on your face . . . so did she.”

Ford’s jaw tightens, and for a moment I think he might hit me. But then I see something close to sadness filtering into his eyes, followed maybe by regret. He blows out a frustrated breath and turns away to take a swallow of beer.

Treading carefully, unsure of what this is, I ask, “Are you sure you don’t have something going on with Leary?”

Staring at his glass, he shakes his head. “No, man. We’re just really good friends. I care about her, but nothing past that.”

“Ford,” I say insistently, making it clear I don’t want him fucking around with me. “Truth time.”

Swiveling his head toward me, he finally admits, “Yeah, in the past we fucked around. But never anything serious.”

“Christ,” I mutter, picking my own beer up and taking a healthy swallow. This presents a major problem. Regardless of what I learned from Ford, my intention was to pursue Leary Michaels outside the courtroom. All afternoon I kept thinking of her hand on my dick, and I knew that I couldn’t just let this attraction go.

But now things have changed. Ford clearly has feelings, and shit . . . he’s admitted to fucking her, which I do not like one bit. Not because I’m proprietary. We don’t have any type of relationship to be proprietary about.

It changes things because Ford is a friend, and that tiny bit of sadness in his eyes has me feeling like I need to back completely the fuck up and walk away.

“Listen, man,” I start, trying to make myself as clear as possible, “I don’t want to step in between you and Leary. You’re my friend first. I promise, from now on, nothing but aboveboard professionalism from me.”

Ford doesn’t say anything for a moment, and then he gives me a wry smile. “She likes you.”

“Pardon me?”

“She likes you,” he says with a wave of his hand. “Likes your ego, your confidence. Likes your cunning. She’s intrigued by you.”

“How do you know this?” I ask skeptically.

“Because she’s talked about you. I didn’t know it was you she was talking about, but she told me enough.”

“Doesn’t matter,” I say, but he cuts me off.

“There is nothing between me and Leary. Just a close friendship. You two are free to . . . well, whatever it is you’re doing.”

I don’t know what to say. The friend in me wants to argue with him and insist I’ll stay away, but the vast majority of me is celebrating a victory I didn’t even know I was in the running for.

Ford drains the rest of his beer, pushes the glass away, and stands up. “I gotta get going. Thanks for the beer.”

“Yeah, sure,” I say distractedly, not quite sure where we stand with each other.

Ford starts to walk away but then turns back. “Don’t hurt her, Reeve. You two are walking a fine ethical line by fucking around with each other. I get you needing to defend your case, but you need to know that this case has personal merit to Leary. Don’t use this personal shit to fuck her over. I will not be happy.”

“I would never do that,” I assert, because I wouldn’t. I have absolutely no doubt that if anything is to transpire sexually between the two of us, it can be done outside the bounds of this case.

Besides, it’s just a fuck . . . or two, or maybe even three.

Regardless, it’s not like we want to date each other.

It’s just a fuck, I tell myself firmly.

CHAPTER 5

LEARY

Ford is unusually silent as he drives us to a charity event hosted by our regional trial lawyers’ association. It’s the one time of the year that plaintiff’s and defense lawyers put down their gloves and come together to raise money for a selected charity, this year for Alzheimer’s.

Ford and I made plans a few months ago to go to this thing together. It’s not a black-tie affair, but it’s dressy enough that I have on an above-the-knee cocktail dress in sapphire blue, and Ford is looking handsome in a dark-gray suit and a cobalt-blue tie with thin gray ribbons of color dissecting it on the diagonal.

“Cat got your tongue?” I ask him cheekily.

He turns to look at me, and even though it’s dark outside, the neon-blue lights from the interior electronics cast the angles of his face handsomely. He gives me a tiny smirk, then reaches his hand out to my bare knee for a squeeze.

It’s friendly enough, but it feels odd to me for some reason. I suspect it might have something to do with the fact I can’t seem to get Reeve Holloway out of my mind. Since our moment in his office four days ago, he seems to be spending obsessive amounts of time in my mind.

He hasn’t contacted me and I sure as hell haven’t contacted him. I thought a time or two about sending a business-related e-mail, but then immediately put it out of my mind. I plan to leave the ball in his court for now and concentrate on the merits of the case—not on how unbelievably big his dick is.

“I met a good friend for a beer a few nights ago,” Ford says, cutting into my thoughts. His hand inches its way up my thigh.

“Oh, yeah?” I ask cordially while my heart starts beating quickly. Not because what Ford is doing to me is necessarily arousing, but because I’m actually considering telling him to stop, and I’m not sure how.

“Yeah, I think you know him,” he says mysteriously.

“Who?” I ask.

Ford squeezes my thigh, his fingers pressing deep into my muscles, and then he pulls his hand away. His voice is a little tight when he says, “Reeve Holloway.”

“What?” I exclaim, turning in the seat toward him. “You know Reeve?”

Ford nods. “Met last year playing rugby. He talked about you the other night. Imagine my surprise when I found out the pain-in-your-ass defense attorney you’ve been complaining about is my friend.”

“What exactly did he say?” I ask hesitantly.

“Hmm,” he says while rubbing a forefinger thoughtfully over his chin. “He wanted to know if you and I are fucking.”

My jaw drops, because why in the world would Reeve ever think to ask Ford that?

“And,” Ford continues, “he said you went to his office, taunted him, and then wrapped your hand around his cock.”

I groan and fling myself back in my seat, crossing my arms over my chest. “I can’t believe he told you that.”

“Well, in fairness, I sort of berated it out of him,” Ford concedes. “It’s not like he was kissing and telling.”

I chew on my bottom lip, trying to imagine that conversation. While Ford and I are close, and we’ve been fuck buddies who’ve stepped away from each other when we were interested in someone else, we’ve never shared details of our other sexual relationships with each other. It just seemed . . . poor form or something.

Ford starts slowing down so he can turn in to the parking lot of the Marriott Hotel where the charity silent auction will be held.

Turning my head so I can gauge his honest reaction, I ask him, “Are you okay with this?”

Ford snickers. “We’re not exclusive, Leary. If you’re interested in him, I back away. You know that.”

“I’m not interested in him,” I mutter. “I was trying to intimidate him. Test him. Get the upper hand. Throw him off his game.”

“Fine, then,” he says as he pulls into a parking space and puts the car in park. Taking off his seat belt, he leans across the seat toward me, slips his hand back on my thigh, and murmurs, “Let’s blow this party and go back to my place.”

“What? No,” I say quickly, pushing at his hand with no success. “I want to go to this charity event.”

Releasing his grip from my leg, he reaches up and tweaks me on the nose. He grins and says, “You’re cute when you lie, you know that?”

“Whatever,” I say as I turn to open the car door.

“He’s going to be here,” Ford says, and I instantly go still, my hand hesitating on the handle. It crossed my mind, and the thought was making my heart thump and my girlie parts tingle. “Tell me to back away, Leary. You’ve done it before when you wanted to pursue someone.”

My shoulders sag as I sigh and pull on the door handle. It opens and I step out, taking a moment to smooth down my dress. Leaning back down, I look inside the car, Ford’s face now completely awash in light. “I want you to back away,” I tell him quietly.

He nods at me with a smile, and I close the door.

I didn’t tell Ford to back away because I’m interested in a relationship with Reeve. There’s no way that could happen, not with us on opposite sides of an emotionally explosive case.

But I am intrigued by him, and I can’t say I’m hating our sexual flirtations. So I can’t in good conscience continue something with Ford. I might be liberal and open-minded when it comes to my sexuality, but I don’t mess around with two men at the same time.

I’m also not averse to no-strings, hot and steamy sex. Maybe I’ll cross that line with Reeve and maybe I won’t, but I know I needed Ford to back away, leaving me to continue this war I have going on with Reeve.

Ford is off talking to some peers about boring shit like golf. I’ve already put in my bids on a few items for the silent auction, but I hate this networking shit, so now I sit at the bar just off the lobby entrance wanting a little time away from the music, dancers, and egotistical attorneys swarming the ballroom.

The bar is a massive, square-shaped unit that can seat probably ten people on each side. Maybe because it’s a Tuesday night and not much is happening during the week, or maybe because everyone is in the ballroom for the charity event, the bar is completely devoid of people except for me and the young bartender who’s been shooting me flirty looks since I arrived.

My back is to the windows that overlook the Raleigh skyline, and I have an open view of the hotel lobby so I can catch Ford if he’s looking for me. Otherwise, I’m completely happy here in my little bubble, being left alone so I can ruminate about Jenna’s case and the problematic defense attorney with whom I have to deal.

I sip my martini and then swirl the skewered olives around in the glass. I’ve been here for forty minutes and no sign of Reeve. I’m thinking of catching a cab home, not wanting to impose on Ford for a ride since it looks like he’s having a good time.

A warm hand presses to my lower back, and hot breath spreads over my bared shoulder. Lips to my ear, someone presses in close, and I recognize Reeve by the sexual confidence oozing off him. I have no clue how he sneaked by my watch. Probably while I was staring at my olives.

“Don’t you look lonely sitting here all by yourself,” he breathes into my ear. I can’t control the shiver that runs up my spine.

I slowly look at him, making a point to uncross my legs and recross them, knowing it pulls my cocktail dress a little higher up my leg. Another inch and he’ll be able to see the black lace of the stockings he bought me.

Not missing a thing, that man, his gaze goes down to my legs. He fingers the edge of my dress casually, slipping just the tip of his finger under it. Raising his eyes to mine, he asks, “Are those my stockings?”

“My stockings,” I correct him with a smile. “But yes . . . they’re the ones you bought.”

“Am I going to get to see them tonight?” he asks with a boyish grin, tugging on the end of my skirt.

“You’ve already seen them. You bought them, after all,” I quip.

“Tease,” he murmurs with an amused smile, and his hand falls away from my leg. I find it amusing myself that I’m disappointed by the loss of his touch.

Reeve orders Woodford Reserve neat. I fiddle with my olives while his drink is made. After the glass is set down in front of him and he pays, he turns his attention back to me by propping his right arm up on the bar, his left casually resting on the back of my chair.

“So, I’m curious,” he begins as I take another sip of my martini. “All this stripping and cock grabbing . . . is that what I can continue to expect as we proceed through this case?”

“Why? Don’t you like it?” I purr in a sympathetic tone.

Reeve chuckles and his left hand reaches out to caress my shoulder briefly before returning to the back of my chair. “On the contrary, I like it very much. It’s just that I’ve never met someone who uses so much more than just regular legal tactics to win a case. It means I have to change my tactics.”

“Well, don’t expect me to divulge all my battle plans to you. I don’t want you prepared for what I’m going to throw your way.”

Mischief fills Reeve’s eyes and he gives me a wide grin. “Looking forward to it. But I’m also curious—do you fight like this with every other male defense attorney you come up against?”

I hear a bit of censure in his voice, maybe jealousy. I bat my eyelashes at him. “Only if the case is important enough.”

Reeve actually grimaces slightly and his voice is slightly strained. “Have you ever had a case this important before?”

“No,” I tell him softly. Because it’s true. I haven’t.

I might have had cases that were bigger and worth more money, but never one as personally important before.

“What makes this case so special?” he asks, his head tilted in curiosity.

“That is none of your business,” I say firmly, hardening my gaze against his inquisitiveness. There’s no way I would ever tell Reeve about my motivations. Only Midge and Ford are privy to that information, and I only told them so they understand that there aren’t many lines I won’t cross in the pursuit of victory for Jenna.

Reeve stares at me, then gives a slight nod of acceptance. He swivels his head to look around, and I notice that the bartender has his back to us, watching a baseball game on one of the TVs mounted on the wall. Satisfied with the small measure of privacy we have at this moment, Reeve looks back at me. “Now let me see a little bit of those stockings.”

My breath hitches as his gaze drags down to my lap and his left arm leaves the back of my chair. He turns his body to shield me from the bartender and takes the edge of my skirt in between his index finger and thumb. He drags it up slowly—just a few inches are all that’s really needed before the lace edges are revealed. Reeve turns his hand and runs his knuckles over my skin that’s peeping out.

“Spread your legs,” he murmurs, giving my thigh a nudge.

I tilt to the side again, confirming that the bartender has his back to us. No one else is in the bar, although I can see several people walking in and out of the lobby not thirty feet away. Still, Reeve has me blocked from anyone’s view.

My legs slowly uncross, but they’re not spread enough for Reeve’s liking. He sticks his hand in between my thighs and gives another nudge. “Farther.”

I comply, thrilled and frightened at the same time that we could be caught. My heartbeat is hammering and prickles of excitement race across my skin.

Reeve angles his head to the right slightly so he can get a better view, using his hand to inch my skirt up a little higher. He smiles approvingly then lifts his gaze to mine. “Black lace panties sort of your thing?”