by M. S. Parker
Brinke sulked but didn't argue. Once I had the condom on, I moved back to her, and she curled her legs around my hips as I drove into her. She cried out, and the sound echoed around us, broken and rough.
Just like what we had become, I thought.
Broken and rough.
Chapter Seven
Leslie
Parking in New York City was a bitch. Which was why most people didn't own cars and just relied on public transportation.
There were times when I really, really wished I’d never decided to buy a car, especially when parking cost more than the damn car. And then there are days like today, when somebody stole my reserved space, and I hated people as well as cars.
If I'd been a nice person, I’d have just found another space, but I wasn’t a nice person when it came to the reserved space I paid out the ass for. If someone wanted a space, they could damn well pay for it themselves.
After contacting the twenty-four-hour number for the garage, I had to wait for them to call me back, and in the end, I was given a number to write down and stick in my window since I had to find another empty spot anyway – you won’t be charged, Ms. Calvin, you have my word. Yes, the car using your spot will be towed. Damn right I wouldn't be charged and that car would get towed. I was a divorce lawyer, but I could still file a civil lawsuit if they pissed me off enough.
It took thirty minutes longer than it should have to get inside my apartment, and I was bitchy and tired.
More, I was also hot and bothered – the kind of hot and bothered that came from thinking about a certain man most of the day. My nipples were tight and swollen, rubbing against my bra, and I kept thinking that I should find a way to get in touch with him and tell him he needed to find a different attorney.
I wouldn’t, though.
I knew I wouldn’t.
I’d always loved playing with fire, and even though I’d never make a move in his direction, the thought of not spending at least a little bit of time around him was enough to drive me mad.
“You need to get laid,” I told myself as I stood at the stove, making up a quick dinner of stir-fry. A glass of wine, sweet and cold, helped my parched throat, but it did absolutely nothing to relieve the mounting frustration.
And I'd just gotten laid Saturday night.
It didn’t even matter either.
I’d had fun with… what’s his name, but it had been like eating a handful of potato chips. A snack, nothing more, nothing less.
I needed something more.
My mind drifted. To the club – to Gavin and Carrie, Dena and her new guy Arik, DeVon and Krissy.
Then, inexplicably, I found myself thinking of Paxton again.
“More,” I muttered, irritated with myself.
I was starting to think I didn’t know what I needed.
* * *
Standing under the shower, trying unsuccessfully to drown out images of Paxton, trying not to wonder if he made love the way he sang, I brooded about what I was going to do if he ended up hiring me.
I was already way too attracted to him to be as objective as I needed to be, and I was too honest with myself not to realize that.
Maybe he wouldn’t call.
Maybe it would all work out and he could talk his wife into rehab.
They could all live happily ever after, and I could dream happily ever after until my mind got tired of the fantasies and I found somebody to take my mind off of things. Or maybe I could even find some guy to get serious with.
My mind did a sharp one-eighty when that thought finally registered.
Get serious?
I’d always planned to enjoy the single life for as long as I could, and I’d never seen any reason why I couldn’t enjoy it forever. I was beautiful and confident, and I’d be that way in ten years, twenty years. That had been my thought even just a year ago. Hell, six months ago.
Now, loneliness was an ache inside me.
Closing my eyes, I tried to banish the image of Paxton as he'd stood in my office, looking so lost. So many people had come in there looking like that. While I felt sympathy for almost all of them, I’d never felt the desire to comfort anybody until today.
Comfort…a sly inner bitch laughed at me. You want to do more than comfort.
I found myself thinking of his mouth, the beautiful masculinity of his face.
My nipples tightened and I shivered as water slid down the slope of my breasts. More rivulets ran down my belly and through the curls between my thighs. The shower had become a taunting exercise in erotic torture.
Groaning, I pressed my back against the shower wall and slid a hand down my abdomen, my fingers slipping through the folds between my thighs until my clitoris throbbed under my finger. Already hard and pulsing, I hissed at the quick, light contact. Biting my lip, I let myself pretend. It wasn’t me caressing myself. It was Paxton. It wasn’t the brush of fingers circling around the swollen knot, but his tongue.
My whimpers echoed off the walls as I bit my lip to keep from disturbing my neighbors. Damn the thin apartment walls.
I imagined what it would be like to look down and see his head between my legs, that unruly ash blond hair brushing my thighs. Have his gorgeous eyes meet mine. A strange shade of blue, like those flowers that weren't quite blue but not quite purple either. I wondered what they would look like, staring into mine as he pleasured me with his mouth and fingers.
The climax came hard and fast, easing some of the tension inside me, but it wasn't fulfilling, the knot in my stomach coming back as soon as the pleasure faded.
Sighing, I opened my eyes and stared through the steam and spray of water.
I was in so much trouble if he did call back.
* * *
His lips slid down the curve of my neck. When he bit me there, I shivered. I couldn’t help it. I loved it when a man did that. There was something almost primal about it that just turned me on.
“The first time I saw you,” he whispered in my ear, his voice low and rough. “I knew that I was going to touch you like this.”
Dazed, I tilted my head back and gazed at him.
“You look surprised.” Paxton bit my lower lip. “I don’t know why. You felt it too. I saw it in your eyes. Those big green eyes…staring at me. You wanted me the second you saw me.”
I blinked at him.
Had I stared at him?
“You did.” Paxton answered the question I’d only asked in my mind as he stroked a hand down my neck, along my collarbone before cupping my breast. “Your nipples were tight and you kept pressing your knees together, like you were already feeling me inside you. Did you imagine it?”
Sucking in a breath, I nodded.
He tugged up the short, silky night shirt I wore and I braced my hands against the wall. It was a shock when my hands touched rough, exposed brick. I didn’t have brick in my house. In my office, yes.
Confused, I looked around and saw that we were in my office.
And I was in my nightshirt. This didn't make sense.
Paxton pushed his thigh between mine, his erection hard and heavy against me. At the same time, he twisted his fingers in my hair. “Stop thinking and kiss me.”
I did, more than happy to go along with that idea. Shoving logic aside, I opened my mouth for him and bit his tongue when he slid it between my lips. He growled, boosting me up against the wall.
The rough brick scraped my skin as he drove inside me, hard and deep and fast. He stretched me and it hurt even as it delighted.
“Harder,” I demanded, clutching at his shoulders. “Harder.”
“Leslie…” He savaged my mouth, his fingers digging into my ass. The kiss so deep, so hungry, it was like he wanted to devour me. And I was going to let him.
I moaned his name when he pulled his mouth away from mine. I could feel the pulsing of his cock as he thrust up into me, the climax rushing at me with breathless, ruthless intensity.
“You’re going to come for me,” he said, voice rough and raw. “C
ome for me, Leslie. Come…” He eased back until just a couple inches were inside. Before I could protest, he caught my hand, guiding it between my thighs. “Touch yourself and let me watch you make yourself come, Leslie.”
“I don’t want to. I want you to make me come.” But then he pressed his fingers on mine at the place where we were joined. Groaning, I circled my clit with my fingers and watched him, all but mesmerized by the intense blue of his eyes.
“That’s it,” Paxton rasped. “That’s it.”
I cried out his name.
* * *
That was the sound I woke up to. His name on my lips as I climaxed, one hand between my thighs. Seconds later, the intensity of the orgasm fading away, I rolled onto my back and stared up at the ceiling.
“Great.” Another aftershock rippled through me and a harsh breath shuddered past my lips. “I’m having wet dreams about a guy I just met. Paxton Gorham. World famous rock star. And a guy I just might be representing in court.”
Flinging an arm over my eyes, I blew out a breath. “You sure do know how to complicate your life, Leslie Calvin.”
Chapter Eight
Leslie
“Ms. Calvin?”
I looked up to see Haley standing in the doorway.
Her face was set in a professional line, although her eyes had a slightly dazed and glassy look to them. It'd been a rough day for her yesterday, but she'd insisted on coming in. Her mother was okay, but it wasn't looking good. She wanted to stay busy though.
“Yes?”
She glanced back over her shoulder and then edged inside. “Do you have a few moments available? You have...the guy from yesterday, he's back.” Her eyes widened, trying to communicate something she couldn't put into words.
But I didn’t need her to. I figured it out the moment she said last week.
A shiver raced through me and I pressed my hands to the surface of the table, staring at the résumés for a moment, as though focused on finishing that task. “Ask him if he can wait a few minutes, please,” I said softly. “I believe I have an hour before my next appointment, yes?”
“An hour and a half.” She turned away and I heard them speaking, the low sound of Paxton’s voice making me remember the dream from the night before.
Shit. That was the last thing I needed to be thinking about.
Haley turned back to me and nodded. “He’s more than happy to wait until you're available.”
She closed the door and I dropped my head down on the desk. If it wouldn’t have made a noise – and an ugly red mark on my forehead – I might have hit it a few times in an effort to knock some sense into me.
Go out there, the voice of reason said. Give him the name of your old firm and recommend a couple of people.
That was what I should do.
The lawyers at the firm I’d left were excellent. One or two had even branched out on their own and could offer more privacy than a large firm could.
But I knew I wouldn’t send him away.
After another moment, I selected the two résumés from the pile and took them with me to the door so my hands would have something to do. Taking a deep breath, I opened it and stepped out with a brisk smile on my face. “Hello, Mr. Gorham.”
He turned and met my eyes, offering a short nod in greeting. His eyes didn’t linger on my mouth, and he didn’t stare at me hungrily the way he had in my dreams.
I didn’t let myself stare at him. But I wanted to.
Looking at Haley, I handed her the résumés. “See if they’re available sometime this week for an in-person interview.”
“Of course. Shall I bring in coffee?”
I looked at Paxton.
“No, thanks.”
I desperately needed the caffeine fix, but I shook my head at Haley. It might be better if I didn’t have anything to add to my nervousness.
As he passed by, I caught a headful of his scent and my mouth started to water. I closed the door and allowed myself a quick look at his ass before clenching my fingers and forcing myself to focus.
“Have a seat, please.”
Calm and collected. Good for me.
He went to the chair near the window, so I settled on the couch and waited for him to start.
It took almost a minute for him to say anything and I had to force myself to hold my silence. It was harder than normal and the nerves were insane. I couldn’t ever remember feeling like this around a client and again, I told myself I needed to suggest he find another attorney.
I could just picture him asking why and me being brutally honest.
Because you’re too fucking hot and I keep picturing the two of us naked together.
“Okay, let’s do it.”
He spoke abruptly and the words, delivered right in the middle of my mental scenario, had heat rushing to my face. I covered by reaching for the ever -present notepad I kept on the table in front of the couch. “Just what are we doing, Mr. Gorham?”
“Paxton.”
It took all the professionalism I had not to react in a way that made it clear the thing I wanted to do was him. I smiled. It wasn’t the professional smile it needed to be, but it didn’t scream let’s get naked either.
“I’m sorry?”
“Don’t call me Mr. Gorham. It’s just Paxton.” He shrugged, looking restless as he leaned back in the seat. It drew the material of his jeans tight across his thighs – and other parts of him. For a quick moment, my gaze fell away and once more, heat began to rush through me.
Fortunately, he began to speak and it brought my mind out of the gutter. “I need to start filing proceedings for the divorce, figuring out what we need to do so I get custody of Carter.”
“Alright.” I made a couple of notes.
“I don’t want to keep Brinke away from her altogether.”
Glancing at him from under my lashes, I saw that he was staring past my shoulder, one fist pounding absently on the arm of the chair. “She loves our daughter, she’s just…not exactly a good influence, and I can’t risk her endangering Carter again.”
“Supervised visitations might be the best for a while, until she’s gone through rehab and shown she no longer presents a danger.”
Paxton opened his mouth, then closed it. A moment later he blew out a sigh. “Yeah, fine. Okay.” He rubbed his hands over his face and when he lowered them, he slid his eyes my way. “We have to keep this quiet. If Brinke finds out too soon, she’ll…” He tilted his head back against the chair. “She won’t take it well, okay?”
“Is she likely to do something that could pose a danger to Carter or herself? You?” It was a standard question, one I never liked having to voice, but that didn’t explain the unusual cold feeling I got in my belly at the thought of something happening to this man or his daughter.
“She won’t take it well.” Paxton got up to pace and ended up by the window, staring outside. “She’d never set out to do something that would hurt herself, our daughter, or even me, I don’t think. But she’s reckless and doesn’t think things through. When she gets mad, she gets a little stupid.”
“Very well.” I tightened my grip on the pen, staring hard at the paper until my brain settled. Then, after scratching out a few more notes, I looked up at him. “Keeping it quiet isn’t an issue. It’s fairly standard.”
I placed the notepad on the coffee table and stood. Sitting still wasn't doing my nerves any favors. Moving over to my desk, I took a sip from my water bottle and then glanced over at him.
Heat suffused my face when I realized he’d been staring at me – specifically, he’d been staring at my ass.
My heart started to pound hard and fast and I found myself oddly frozen, uncertain how to react. Slowly, his gaze slid up to meet my face. Before our eyes connected, I turned back to my desk and put the water down. My hand was shaking and some of it splashed out, but I ignored it.
“Let me explain what we’re going to do and how things work, as well as my fee.” Forcing a note of professional distance into
my voice, I strode back to the couch and sat down, once more taking up the notepad as though it was some sort of barrier.
Generally, talking about money annoyed people, even though they knew they'd have to pay for my services, but Paxton didn’t so much as blink an eye. My fees weren’t on the outrageous end anyway, and there was no doubt he could afford it.
“Since custody is coming into play, specifically regarding the welfare of your daughter, we'll need a private investigator as well. The best ones come with a higher dollar tag.”
“Get the best, and make sure they know to keep things quiet, even if they want a bonus for extra discretion.” He’d gone back to staring outside. “I don’t want to run the risk of her realizing what’s going on. The cost doesn’t matter.”
“Very well.” I hated to do it, but I needed to make sure it was clear. “You do understand you’re responsible for those costs, not the firm.”
His lips quirked as he shot a look at me. “I assumed as much. Money isn’t an issue, Leslie.”
The sound of my name on his lips sent me straight back into my dream, and I found myself hearing his words, let me watch you make yourself come, Leslie…
“Understood. I just like to get that matter out of the way up front. While I imagine your…financial situation is different from most of my clients, I’ve had a number of people who are…unhappy with the bill in the end, regardless of their financial situation.” I said all of this to my notepad instead of looking at him, because my body was undergoing a sensory overload, thanks to the memory of that very intense, very wicked dream. I needed a new pair of panties now – and a new brain. I couldn’t believe I was taking him on as a client. There were a million different ways I’d love to take him, and at least one way I shouldn’t. But I was going to be stupid.
Because I wasn't sure I trusted anyone else with it. Maybe if my friends were still practicing divorce law, but I wasn't even sure I would've passed him off then.
