by Rynne Raines
Legally Bound
by
Rynne Raines
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental.
Legally Bound
COPYRIGHT Ó 2011 by Rynne Raines
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.
Contact Information: [email protected]
Cover Art by Angela Anderson
The Wild Rose Press
PO Box 708
Adams Basin, NY 14410-0708
Visit us at www.thewilderroses.com
Publishing History
First Scarlet Rose Edition, September 2011
Published in the United States of America
Dedication
For all those Dirty Little Secrets…
Everyone has them.
PRAISE FOR AUTHOR
Rynne Raines
AND HER BOOKS
PURE SIN
“Ms. Raines did what most authors strive to do; grab the reader by the collar and make them want to continue turning the pages and tell those around them, “One more page. One more page.”
~Shira, You Gotta Read Reviews
“Rynne Raines writes a wonderful story with many ups and downs. PURE SIN is a fast-paced story that keeps the reader glued to the pages from the beginning.”
~Mistletoe, Whipped Cream Reviews
“This is the second story in a series by Ms. Raines. If this is the standard of the series, I will definitely have to pick up the other novel as soon as possible.”
~Shannon, The Romance Studio
WELCOME TO EDEN
“Rynne Raines has created a winner with this short story that left me wanting more, if only to get more of a taste of the heat generated between Caitlyn and Evan.”
~Viscaria, Whipped Cream Reviews
“This will definitely have you wiggling in your seat wanting more. I would definitely look into other stories written by Ms. Raines.”
~Diana Coyle, Night Owl Romance
Chapter One
The double doors of the courtroom opened into a sea of reporters and quick-finger photographers hailing from the Times, Daily News, and every tabloid magazine in the city eager to get first scoop on the highest profile divorce case in Los Angeles. And, Eve Morgan stood center stage of it all.
Well, nearly center stage.
With three-hundred and fifty million dollars at stake, Langly vs. Langly would go down as the biggest case of her legal career. Walking away victorious meant newspapers quoting her and competing law firms clamoring for her. Finally, being one-up on her handsome rival, Donavan Carver, was the icing on the cake.
Flash after flash assaulted Eve’s eyes but through the little white spots dancing around her head she watched Donavan usher his client toward the cluster of reporters gathered behind the security barrier.
Carver always did look good on camera, Eve noted with a twinge of envy. Although he was tall and lean, blessed with broad shoulders and a stubborn, sculpted jaw most movie stars would kill for, those weren’t the only reasons why the cameras and the Press loved him. His stance alone commanded respect. Even as the media jabbed hand-held recorders and microphones toward his face, he kept his annotations crisp and clean, exuding poise. He dominated an interview like he dominated his lovers, with unwavering confidence and a firm yet skillful hand.
As he answered question after question shouted by the Press, Eve’s gaze unwillingly skimmed the length of his masculine body. The suit he was wearing didn’t do him justice. Under his finely woven polyester jacket and well-fitted dark slacks was the body of a Grecian God. This much she knew. At the moment, part of her wished she didn’t.
By day Donavan might don a suit and tie and carry a briefcase. By night, however, he sported a pair of leather pants that hugged his tight ass to perfection and wielded a flogger, a set of handcuffs, and a blindfold.
Oh yes, Donavan Carver was the crème de la crème of Doms who frequented Eden—the fetish club her best friend’s husband owned. On several occasions when she met Caitlyn for drinks, she’d spotted Donavan there, surrounded by a harem of scantily clad women vying for his attention. Most nights he would single one out from the flock and disappear with them inside one of Eden’s secluded pleasure rooms.
A shudder rippled all the way to Eve’s toes and her fingers clenched tighter around the handle of her briefcase. Secretly she’d always wondered what Donavan did to his women in those rooms. Knowing his reputation, she imagined he wasted no time before shackling his naked companion in a vulnerable position in which he would have full rein to conduct his sensual torture. And they all let him. Craved him. Kneeled to him.
The man probably has a cock made of solid gold, too, Eve decided as she surveyed her rival’s striking profile with mild irritation. Unfortunately, she wasn’t certain whether her irritation stemmed from not being able to understand how so many women willingly surrendered their control to him when it was common knowledge Donavan went through sexual partners faster than the speed of light or because quite often…she fantasized about being one of them.
As if hearing her thoughts, Donavan glanced over his shoulder. His slate gray eyes locked on her and breath caught in Eve’s throat. Her heartbeat paused. Her knees liquefied. She refused to look away. Even when the slow smile tugging at his sensual mouth sent a wave of heat between her thighs, she held her ground. If she were the first to break eye contact it would only empower him more. The last thing she needed Donavan having over her was more power.
In attempt to regain the upper hand, Eve sent a smoldering gaze and sultry smile across the vast foyer of the courthouse. Dangerous? Certainly. Necessary? Absolutely. It was all part of the game they played. They’d been at it for at least two years now. There was a flirtatious, sexual undertone to all their encounters and although Eve wasn’t normally one for mixing business with pleasure, their game of cat and mouse was the closest thing she’d had to foreplay in two years.
Verbal foreplay was all it could ever be, Eve reminded herself. Anything more between them could destroy her career and everything she’d worked so hard to achieve.
“I gave him the best years of my life!” Hearing the irate voice of Donavan’s client, Eve tucked her tongue in her cheek and narrowed her eyes. The glamorous Mrs. Langly was a classic beauty in her own right and could certainly put on a show. Curling one elegant hand around Donavan’s bicep, the seventy-five year old drama queen manipulatively dabbed a tissue to her eyes, which claimed the sympathy of her lawyer, forcing Donavan to break eye contact with Eve first. Thank God. One point for me.
“Listen to that woman’s lies! She’s no better than I am, I assure you.” Arthur Langly, Eve’s client wrinkled his wide nose and scowled. “Are you going to let her feed them that bull? You’re my lawyer, do something!”
“We don’t have the evidence to contradict her right now,” Eve replied in a cool tone then glanced at her wristwatch. Fifty minutes left. Already she’d pushed her luck asking Judge Bishop Marx for a one hour recess but then Eve was known to push boundaries. Perhaps that was why Arthur Langly hired her. Because she was known as a cut-throat, hard headed woman who hated to lose. Or maybe it was something less commendable and his wife was right—Langly was just an old pervert who liked the way Eve’s legs looked in a skirt.
“Conference room A is this way,” Eve said, ushering Mr. Langly down the hall and away from the cameras. Putting some distance b
etween Donavan and her was a good idea, too. “You can wait out the recess in there. It’ll keep the reporters at bay while I’m making a few calls.”
Arriving at the door, Eve reached around and felt for the light switch. Slowly, Langly crept through the doorway. Even though there was plenty of room for him to go by, he just had to rub his boney frame up against her ass on the way in. Eve felt her gag reflex work. The old bastard certainly had nerve.
Shaking off the sensation of his body slithering against hers, Eve gripped the doorknob. “I’ll be back shortly. Lock this after I leave in case any of the media vultures slip through the cracks.”
“Wait! Um…can’t you stay and…keep me company?”
Eve didn’t like the way his bushy eyebrows wagged or how his beady eyes were pinned to her legs. Clearing her throat, she clung to diplomacy.
“I can’t stay. We’re running out of time, Mr. Langly. If that tape doesn’t show up in the next forty-five minutes, you’re going to be out a lot of money.”
“Well, can you at least get me a glass of water? My throat is terribly parched.”
Summoning patience, Eve sighed and headed for the water cooler on the far side of the room. Right. Langly was about to lose the majority of his assets for screwing half the stripper population in the metropolitan area, but he couldn’t get his own water. Shaking her head, Eve drew a paper cup from the dispenser then leaned over and began to fill.
“Oh yeah, baby. That’s what Daddy likes.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Eve’s skin crawled as if a thousand ants were doing the cha-cha under her silk blouse. She hadn’t ran away from her drunken mother at the age of sixteen, then worked two jobs to put herself through law school just so she could wind up eye candy for some horny old fool.
With the glass only half full, Eve straightened and crossed the room, all while trying to keep her temper in check.
“Mr. Langly, let’s get one thing clear.” Eve shoved the paper cup into his wrinkled hand. “I didn’t take this case thinking I could disprove that you are a slimy little man who preys on vulnerable young women hard on their luck. I took this case thinking I could prove your wife is equally as slimy, and although I can’t begin to imagine how she possibly could be, my job is to protect your assets. I will do my job. But, don’t think for a second that you don’t disgust me in ways I can’t even begin to describe.”
On that note, with Langly’s mouth agape, she pivoted on her heels and strode straight for the exit. Reaching the door, she popped the lock and yanked it shut.
“How does Daddy like me now? Asshole.” Smoothing her blouse, Eve gave her hair a triumphant flip then turned smack dab into a six-foot-two wall of lean muscle. Startled, she lost her footing and teetered backward. Before she hit the door, a pair of strong arms swooped around her. Warm. Firm. Powerful. Carver.
“I have to say,” Donavan murmured, “you do keep a very unorthodox client-attorney relationship, Evelyn.”
As he spoke, her gaze drifted to his lips. God, she loved his lips. They were smooth, firm, and she had no doubt he knew exactly how to use them. If she leaned forward an inch, she could taste them.
Focus, Eve. Focus.
Giving herself a mental shake, she wiggled out of his arms and stepped back to a safer distance where the heat of his rock hard body radiating through his suit wouldn’t wreak havoc with her mind…quite as much.
“Counselor,” she acknowledged in a steady tone. “Done with your press interviews already? Or was your client’s bullshit getting a tad too thick even for you to stomach?”
“Taking a break, actually. Harriet wanted to touch up her face before answering any more questions about her husband’s indiscretions—I didn’t see you at Eden last night,” he replied, smoothly changing the subject from business to pleasure. “You were sorely missed.”
Eve arched an eyebrow. “Forgive me if I find that hard to believe.”
“Believe it or not, it’s the truth.” He reached for a runaway tendril escaping her professional up-do and gently tucked it behind her ear. The backs of his knuckles grazed her cheek as he withdrew and Eve’s tummy fluttered. A scalding wave of heat spread through her pussy. She clenched her teeth. Curse those magic hands, she thought dizzily as her body softened to his touch.
Just to be stubborn, Eve gave her head a light shake so that the tendril he strategically placed fell back in front of her ear.
Oh yes, that’ll show him! Congratulations, you’re in control of your own damn hair.
“Were you with a man last night?” he boldly asked, seemingly unfazed by her evident defiance.
Her mouth threatened to gape but she managed to keep it shut and produced a coy smile. “Now why on Earth would you ask me that?”
“Petty jealously and vague curiosity. You’re a creature of habit and you haven’t missed a Cosmo-Wednesday in over a year. If it wasn’t hot sex keeping you from sucking back alcoholic syrup with Caitlyn, I’ll assume you were curled up on the sofa with a glass of Merlot, nose stuffed in a legal text.”
Eve frowned. Was she so predictable? Slightly intrigued that he knew her so well, she lifted her chin and met his smiling gray eyes.
“You’re right. I was working. I’m desperate to win this case. You wouldn’t believe the arrogant ass I’m up against in court.”
An amused smile tugged at the corners of his handsome mouth and she felt herself softening further.
“Besides,” she continued. “I was under the impression you were too busy with your submissive of the week to notice my absence. What was her name again? Ver-onica?”
“Hmm, Veronica. Long story short, she wanted a collar and I’m not in the market for a permanent sub. With that being said, there’s a temporary vacancy. Interested?”
Eve’s eyebrow arched higher. Apparently Arthur Langly wasn’t the only one with nerve today. Only Langly didn’t have the ability to affect her the way Donavan did. His bold style of flirting set her off balance and made her mind run wild with sinful possibilities.
“You’ve got quite the set of balls on you, Carver.”
“And a huge cock to go with them. You didn’t answer the question.”
At the mention of his cock, Eve subtly squeezed her thighs together as heat swelled around her throbbing cleft. It took all her willpower not to let her gaze wander to the crotch of his slacks but with valiant effort, she managed to put her curiosity aside and slap on her game face. Fight fire with fire.
Fearlessly, she stepped forward into the danger zone. Inches from him now, she pouted her lips seductively and smoothed her hands over the lapels of his suit jacket.
“Huge cock or not,” she whispered, “I’ll have to decline. Us Mistresses have a thing against submitting control.”
“Ah yes,” he said, staring at her mouth. “You keep saying you’re the one who likes to do the tying in the relationship. I still don’t see it. Something about you just doesn’t strike me as…Mistress-y.”
That’s because I’m not a real Mistress. It’s merely a ruse to protect my professional reputation.
Although she secretly harbored submissive tendencies, those tendencies were too dangerous to act on. It was hard enough to earn the respect of her peers as a female in her profession, let alone one who got off on being dominated. Mistresses, however, they were known not to take shit from anyone.
For the most part, the rumor worked in her favor. Given she was a control freak concerning her work, pretending to get off on bossing men around didn’t seem to surprise people. In fact, they praised her for it. Donavan was the only person who had ever questioned the fib. Somehow, he sensed the real her. Eve was certain that was the primary reason she was so attracted to him. It was also the reason she needed to be very, very careful around him.
“So, I suppose you’ll be bringing…Alfonso,” Donavan rolled his eyes, “to the masquerade this weekend.”
Eve cringed. Alfonso was an unexpected result of the Mistress rumor. Some submissive men were harder
to shake than Eve initially anticipated. The more she pretended to be the cruel Mistress who wanted absolutely nothing to do with him, the more Alfonso clung to her.
“I hadn’t planned on attending the masquerade. If I do go, it’ll be solo. That is unless you’d care to be on the end of my leash for the weekend,” she added, playing up her fake Mistress status.
Laughter danced in his eyes. He leaned closer. His mouth ever so lightly brushed her ear. “Even if I believed your story about being a Mistress, which for the record I don’t, there’s about as much chance of me being on the end of your leash as there is of you winning this case.”
At the stream of warm breath teasing the inside of her ear, her nipples drew tight beneath her blouse. Every nerve in her body tingled and hummed to life. Her eyes flitted open and closed several times before a sudden movement at the end of the hall sharpened her pupils and brought her back to reality.
Marcy. Her assistant. The petite blonde flashed a video cassette tape and then a wide toothy grin. She had the tape.
Straightening, Eve eased back from Donavan and looked him in the eye. “You really don’t think I can win this case?”
He gave a noncommittal shrug. “Not without a miracle. The only way I see you walking away with a win is if you’re holding onto a key piece of evidence until the final act which wouldn’t make sense, you’d have used it already.”
He was right. If she had the tape before the recess she would have used it, but he didn’t have to know that.
“Maybe I’m not as predictable as you think.”
“I never said you were predictable,” he countered. “But you’re logical. There’d be no reason to drag out a case for a week with an ace up your sleeve.”
