She steps back and nods, redirecting her gaze from my chest to her feet. I’m not trying to be a dick about it, I’m just trying to go to dinner without a hard-on. The reality of our professional relationship and her reaction to it is enough to abate the situation in my pants.
She looks up. “I signed a new lease this morning.”
I open my mouth to speak, but I don’t know what to say.
“See you downstairs.” She smiles.
*
“Nice of you to take a break and join us for dinner.” My mom nods to the lone chair opposite Harrison and Ellen.
“Ellen was just telling us her father lives in Cape Cod.”
I lay my napkin over one leg while inspecting the woman who is really still a mystery to me. “I didn’t know that. I thought you were from California.”
She dabs her mouth and swallows. “I moved here from California, but that’s not where I grew up.”
“And you think it’s cold here?” I narrow my eyes.
“College in Florida and my first job in Southern California spoiled me.” She shrugs.
“I’d never live in California. You’d have to be stupid to live near the San Andres fault. Eventually everyone will die.” My uncensored son pipes up.
“Harrison—”
“It’s fine.” She chuckles. “Good thing I moved here.”
“It’s not safe anywhere. My mom died because it was raining.”
Your mom died because I was drunk. More penance. I deserve this more than the oxygen in my lungs. It should have been me. This boy I love beyond all words is a walking reminder of who I am—a murderer.
“My mom died too. Life’s not fair. Fate doesn’t show favoritism.” Ellen shrugs.
Harrison nods like he understands her, like he connects with her.
“I wonder what it would feel like to be on a boat in the Pacific if there were an earthquake in California.”
I grin. Harrison is always three topics behind the conversation—fixating, obsessing over one thing.
My parents ask Ellen a million questions about her job. I hear a few of her answers, but my thoughts war between court tomorrow and the needy woman I brought to orgasm in a dark alley.
“Dinner was great, Mom. Thank you. But I have a few things left to do before morning.” I wipe my mouth and push my chair back. “Help with the dishes, Harrison, and then get to bed. Okay?”
He doesn’t acknowledge me. No surprise.
“We’ll make sure he pitches in.” My dad gives me a reassuring nod.
“Goodnight.” I give Ellen a brief glance before retreating to my office.
For the next hour, I block out the chatter and clanking in the kitchen, giving my full attention to preparing for court tomorrow. As I shut off my computer and rub my tired eyes, the voices get closer.
“He won’t mind if you say goodbye one more time,” my dad says just outside of my office before knocking twice on the door.
“Come in.”
“Ellen’s leaving. She wanted to say goodbye,” he says.
I nod.
“Harrison went to bed and your mom and I are turning in too. Be a gentleman and see her out. Okay?” He winks before stepping back to let her into my office.
“Thank you. Goodnight,” she whispers to him before turning toward me.
I wait to hear him climbing the stairs, the third and eighth ones creak.
“Nice office.”
I watch her like a wolf closing in on a lost sheep. After a long day, I’m not in the mood for idle chitchat.
“Dinner was exceptionally good. Your mom is a wonderful cook.”
I nod slowly, my finger tracing my bottom lip—the same finger that rubbed circles on her clit in the alley.
She walks around my office, inspecting shelves filled with boring law books, making the occasional glance in my direction. I strip her without touching her, slowly fucking her with every look.
“Where do these stairs lead?” She grips the railing, blue eyes curious.
I like curious. In fact, I’m pretty damn curious right now too. Easing out of my chair, I walk up behind her. She glances up at me over her shoulder. I cock my head a fraction, twisting my mouth, waiting for her to do exactly what I want her to do without having to say one. Single. Fucking. Word.
Keeping her gaze locked to mine, she takes a cautious step and then another. My feet shadow hers; my body presses to the back of hers, heat radiating between us. As she circles the last part of the spiral staircase, my hands mold to her hips, causing her breath to hitch, halting her forward motion.
Every curve so perfect. My hands slide under her black sheer blouse, fingertips tracing the taut, silky skin and forging on until her bra is shoved up and out of my way.
A moan vibrates her sternum when my hands claim her breasts, kneading and teasing her nipples before pressing the pads of my fingers to her stomach, navigating my way back to her hips and along her outer thighs to the hem of her soft knitted skirt.
She wore this for me, just like she chose tall schoolgirl socks and boots instead of making me rip her hosiery. I ease her skirt up her legs. Tiny staccato breaths fall from her parted lips. It’s the only sound in the room. The pad of my middle finger slides over the wet cotton and lace between her legs before gripping the waist of her panties and easing them down her toned, soft, and oh-so-sexy legs and over her boots before landing on the stair behind me.
My lips start at the skin just above the top of her right boot and ghost their way up the back of her leg.
“Flint …”
“Shhh …” I nip at the skin right below the perfect curve of her ass, warning her to be quiet. She smells like the forbidden and tastes like my newest addiction. My hands work her skirt up her torso and over her head. With a firm yank it releases her arms, taking her shirt with it. I discard them behind me as well.
She turns. I take a step up, putting my face level with her perky tits. Glancing up to meet her drunken gaze and parted lips, I grin, unfastening her bra and tossing it over my shoulder.
Fucking perfect.
Long auburn hair flowing down her back and over the top of her breasts makes her look like a goddess, something an artist would spend months sculpting to perfection. I don’t want to sculpt her. I want to feel her beneath me, writhing, moaning, completely falling into a million tiny pieces of ecstasy.
“Sit,” I command before shrugging off my shirt.
I swear I can hear her heart pounding against her chest. Her teeth scrape along her bottom lip as she grips the metal railing and sits on the edge of the narrow step.
I drop to my knees several steps down from the one she’s sitting on. Our gazes lock for a long moment before I bring my index finger to my lips in a shhh warning. Her hands grip the railing tighter until her knuckles blanch. She bites her lips together when I lean forward and drape her right leg over my left shoulder and her left leg over my right one.
She gasps, stomach muscles contracting, followed by a throaty groan when my tongue makes its first swipe. One of her hands releases the railing and clenches my hair as her pelvis jerks, legs trembling a little more with every move I make. Some depraved part of me has wanted to do this since the first day she arrived for the interview.
When her hand tugs harder at my hair and her hips grind frantically, I pull back, letting my eyes drink up every inch of her flushed skin before dipping my head down. Trapping one nipple between my teeth, I give it a firm tug, flick my tongue over it twice, and pinch the hell out of her other nipple.