Innocent 'til Proven Otherwise

by Amy Andrews

  ‘So, you’re feeling better today?’

  Ali quirked an eyebrow at the sudden gravelly quality of his tone. ‘Rested. Very rested.’

  And more than a little resigned. Yesterday had been nerve-wracking—today was a complete anticlimax.

  ‘Good, because when we walk out of this courtroom in an hour or so—win or lose—you and I are going straight to bed. And don’t expect to be getting out of it any time soon.’

  Ali swallowed as lust rolled through her belly like a giant Mexican wave.

  It took Judge Davies twenty minutes to sum up the case and hand down her finding that Brisbane

  Memorial and Dr Aleisha Gregory had no case to answer in the death of Nathaniel Cullen.

  Ali, who had been holding herself erect in her chair for the entire time it took her to get there, suddenly sagged as everyone around her leapt to their feet and erupted in cheers and applause.

  It was over. It was truly over.

  Somebody grabbed her by the elbow and yanked her up and hugged her, then someone else did the same and a third person pecked her on the cheek.

  Max stood in front of her, the last to pass on his congratulations. ‘We won.’ He grinned.

  Ali nodded, her heart filling with relief, vindication, gratitude, and something else that seemed too complex to even analyse right at that moment.

  ‘Thank you.’ She smiled. ‘Thank you.’

  She looked over at Nathaniel Cullen’s parents. They were sobbing quietly, their lawyer talking to them in hushed tones, and her joy at being exonerated lost a little of its sparkle.

  The bottom line was an eighteen-year-old boy was dead—there weren’t any winners here.

  But then people were chatting around her about an immediate lifting of her suspension and contacting the medical registration board to push along her start-back date and press releases and she was being swept out of the courtroom as everyone talked at once.

  Max found her in the middle of the huddle five minutes later.

  ‘Excuse me, gentlemen,’ he said, grabbing her hand. ‘Aleisha will be taking the weekend off to think about her next steps. Reg, she’ll be in on Monday morning to talk to you—my secretary will set up an appointment.’

  And then he pulled her out of the crowd, his fingers interwoven with hers, and stalked away with her. He let go of her hand a few moments later as he approached the lift and jabbed the down button. Then he fished in his pocket for his mobile and flipped it open.

  ‘Valerie?’ he said, his gaze capturing Ali’s as he spoke. ‘Tell Helen to cancel my appointments for today and reschedule. I’m going to be unavailable.’

  He paused, obviously listening to something Valerie was saying, and Ali’s mouth went dry at his predatory gleam.

  ‘Yes,’ he said, his eyes holding hers. ‘All day. And I do not wish to be disturbed.’

  The ancient lift dinged as it arrived and Ali stepped in as Max ended the call. Max stepped in also. The lift was empty and he took up position beside her.

  The second the doors shut he dropped his briefcase, turned to face her, then dragged her close until she was squashed against him. He swooped his head down and plundered her soft mouth just as he had fantasised about last night. Her tiny whimper inflamed him and he walked her backwards, pressing her against the wall.

  Their ragged breathing was loud in the silence as the kiss careened out of control.

  His fingers grasped the material of her skirt and hitched it up one thigh. His hand took over, pushing beneath the tight fabric feeling the curve of silk clad female thigh beneath. His hand hit lace and he changed direction, moving to the back of her thigh, skimming bare flesh now as his palm slid further north.

  And then he hit pay dirt.

  One naked buttock filled his hand and he groaned against her mouth. ‘You really don’t have any underwear on, do you?’

  Ali sucked in a breath, her head spinning, her hands clasped to his jacket lapels as her body clamoured for his hand to go further. She gave a half laugh. ‘Did you think I was lying?’

  He squeezed the gloriously naked flesh in his hand. ‘I was hoping you weren’t,’ he murmured as he nuzzled her neck, sucking in her vanilla essence.

  The lift bumped to the ground and they pulled apart. Thankfully the lift took its usual extended time to open giving Max time to step back and pick up his briefcase and Ali time to yank down her skirt.

  By the time the doors finally opened they were standing apart staring straight ahead, all business. Only a very close observer would have noticed the unevenness of their breath.

  ‘My car,’ Max said as he strode out of the lift. ‘Follow me.’

  Ten minutes later Ali had been deposited in Max’s sporty car in the darkened surrounds of the underground car park, waiting for him to join her. The scent of worn leather, the feel of it—like her favourite pair of kid gloves—against the backs of her thighs and the aroma of man, of Max, surrounded her.

  She felt her pulse slow as a heavy sensation she was fast coming to recognise as lust stirred in her belly. He opened his door and she watched as his thigh came into view and the sensation liquefied into a surge of molten heat.

  And so when he said, ‘I thought that was an excellent result,’ she lunged at him before he even had the chance to start the car, just as he had done in the lift, opening her mouth against his, thrusting her tongue as she moaned against his lips.

  Then suddenly he muttered an expletive and she was hauled onto his lap, straddling his thighs in her impossibly tight skirt, his hands ploughing beneath the fabric, past her lace-tops, pushing the skirt higher and higher until he was grasping both of her naked buttocks in his hands.

  She reached for his tie as they devoured each other’s mouths, sliding it out of his collar with a satisfying zip. His buttons were next and she managed to get a few undone before one of his hands wandered to the apex of her thighs and stroked.

  Her breath hissed out and her back arched as his finger found just the right spot.

  Max took advantage of her bared neck and latched on to the pulse that beat a frantic tattoo at the base of her throat. His arm hit the gear stick, his knee bashed against the centre console and anyone could come along at any minute and spot the great Max Sherrington making out in his car with a former witness, but cream puffs and macaroons infused his senses and he gorged like a starving man.

  He laved her neck and she tasted every bit as sweet as she gasped and mewed in response.

  Ali could barely think as his finger stroked deep inside her but she knew she wanted more. She’d been there done that last night, right now she wanted the real thing, so she reached for his zipper without conscious thought, satisfied to find him hard against her fingers, aroused as she was.

  Max groaned against her neck as her fingers brushed his erection through his trousers. He couldn’t ever remember being this hard—not even last night as every nuance of her orgasm had been delivered directly into his ear.

  He heard his zip give, loud even amidst their combined frantic breath. Felt her fingers on him, questing for a way to be closer.

  He cried out against her neck when she found it. Her palm clamping around him—squeezing, milking. Flesh on flesh.

  He wanted that too. To be closer. Wanted to feel her tight around him. To touch every inch of her. One hand abandoned the slick heat of her, needing to touch her breasts. He’d lived vicariously last night but not any more.

  He fumbled with her buttons as she stroked him, needing to feel them, see them, taste them.

  Ali revelled in the feel of him in her hand, thick and strong. But she needed more. She needed him in her. Last night, as she had touched herself at his command, she had fantasised about him stroking deep inside her but she didn’t have to imagine now.

  She could have.

  ‘Max,’ she cried as he pushed her partially undone blouse as far down her arms as it would go and she ground down against him.

  Max felt her glide along the length of him as he yanked a
bra cup aside and sucked heavily on an engorged nipple.

  Ali threw her head back, her cry reverberating around the car. She lifted herself slightly, positioning him for entry.

  ‘No, Ali, wait …’ Max panted, some skerrick of sanity rearing its head amidst the maelstrom at just the right moment. ‘Condom,’ he panted.

  Ali almost wept at his words. She needed him inside her. They were a whisper away from it.

  How could she have forgotten about condoms?

  She bit her lip, forced herself to stop grinding against the hard, hard length of him.

  ‘Have you got one?’ she panted.

  Max squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers stilling then dropping away from her, gripping the outside of her thighs instead. ‘No. They’re at home.’

  Ali stared at him for a long moment, their heaving chests and erratic breathing in sync. She bit her lip.

  ‘Bloody hell,’ she panted before awkwardly easing off him to sit in her own seat, trying to pull her skirt down and return her bared breasts to the confines of her bra.

  Max also fixed himself up with shaking fingers, giving his breathing a chance to return to normal.

  ‘How far to your place?’ she asked.

  Max’s gaze dropped to her still unbuttoned blouse. ‘Fifteen minutes.’

  Ali looked him square in the eye. ‘How fast if I don’t do this up?’

  He feasted his eyes on the white lacy bra cups. ‘Ten.’

  She nodded. ‘I’ll let you do whatever you want with them if you can get us there faster.’

  Max made it home in eight minutes flat.

  CHAPTER TEN

  THE sky was just starting to lighten when Max woke early Sunday morning. He glanced over to Ali. She was lying on her stomach with her head turned away. One thigh stuck out from the sheet that barely covered her bottom.

  His lazy gaze followed the long stretch of naked skin from where the sheet ended to the graceful dip forming the small of her back and up the gentle rise of her ribcage to the flat expanse of her shoulder blades.

  And he wanted her again.

  It would be so easy to run his palm up the contours of her back, drop a kiss on her shoulder, whisper his intentions in her ear just as if he had the last two days and nights. He could picture her sleepy smile now as she rolled over and snuggled all her warm female curves against him.

  He even lifted his hand to do just that.

  But the longer she stayed in his bed, the more times he reached for her, the more he wanted her. And after eighteen months on his own, it was a trifle alarming to think how quickly she’d become part of his world.

  Two days ago he’d planned to make a swift break.

  Now his whole damn bedroom smelled of vanilla. He was never going to be able to get rid of it.

  He dropped his hand.

  The same had happened with Tori. She’d just always been there. And look how disastrously that had turned out.

  Maybe it was time to practise a little restraint? Get a little perspective?

  He eased out of bed, careful not to wake her as he padded to his en suite and changed into his jogging clothes. Nothing like a brisk morning jog for clarity.

  Ali stirred the moment Max vacated the bed, as if some sixth sense had woken her. She rolled over, reaching for him. When her questing hands came up wanting she cracked open an eyelid.

  She almost mewed her disappointment.

  Noises from the en suite were reassuring however and she dragged the sheet up all the way up to her armpits to cover her cool skin. Her eyes fluttered closed. Her body ached in a good way and she smiled to herself at the things they’d done to cause it.

  Ali heard Max re-enter the bedroom and she opened her eyes. ‘Morning,’ she murmured as he appeared in his exercise gear, joggers clasped in one hand.

  He glanced at her and his groin tightened. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.’

  Ali raised an eyebrow. ‘Doesn’t seem to have bothered you before now.’

  Max chuckled as he sat on the side of the bed to put on his joggers.

  ‘You’re going for a run?’ She glanced at the clock. ‘At this hour?’

  ‘You’re not a morning person, are you?’ he said as he pulled on a sock.

  Ali shrugged. ‘I’m a shift worker. When we get the chance to sleep in the dark we take it.’

  But then of course she realised she wasn’t any more. A shift worker. She really needed to stop thinking of herself as one.

  Max pulled his joggers on and tied them up, steadfastly ignoring her very tempting presence behind him. He stood and turned. ‘I can bring back some croissants for breakfast if you like? And the Sunday papers?’

  Ali let her gaze wander up and down the magnificent length of him as he looked down at her, hands on hips. His thighs were moulded perfectly in the skins he was wearing. His broad shoulders, flat abdomen and smooth tanned biceps were beautifully displayed in his white singlet shirt with last year’s Gold Coast Marathon advertised upon it.

  Her breasts grew heavy. Heat spiralled in her belly.

  ‘Did you know,’ she murmured, ‘that you burn off the same amount of calories during sex as you do during a five-k run?’

  Max felt his breath hitch as she all but licked her lips as she looked him up and down. He felt completely objectified.

  He really, really shouldn’t have been so turned on by it.

  He dug his fingers into his hips. ‘I do ten.’

  Ali smiled as she peeled the sheet back. ‘Okay, then. I’ll let you do me twice.’

  Max swallowed hard as she flashed him her naked reclined body in all its glory. He toed off his shoes and stripped his shirt off over his head in a matter of seconds.

  Forget clarity.

  Several hours later they were on his deck drinking coffee and reading the Sunday papers. His penthouse suite overlooked the Brisbane River and the sun glittered on the surface below. A light breeze ruffled the edge of the newspapers.

  Ali glanced up through her fringe at a bare-chested Max. She was wearing his gown and her feet were in his lap snuggled up against his cotton boxers. He was absently rubbing her arch as he perused the sports section of the paper.

  Her heart did a little flop in her chest. It smacked of domesticity and Ali couldn’t remember being this contented in a long time. With the stress of the case behind her and the shiny new possibilities ahead, it had been an excellent couple of days.

  Tomorrow was Monday and everything would no doubt change. Max would go to work and she had to figure out what to do with the rest of her life. So she’d take this moment of domesticity for what it was and worry about tomorrow tomorrow.

  Max looked up and caught her watching him and smiled at her. ‘I checked my messages while you were in the shower,’ he said, his hands straying from her ankle to her calf and then back down again.

  He couldn’t believe he’d gone nearly forty-eight hours without checking his messages. He never did that. But then he’d never been quite so thoroughly distracted.

  ‘Helen rang on Friday to say she booked an eleven a.m. appointment for you with Reg tomorrow.’

  Ali grimaced. Tomorrow. There was that word again.

  Max waited for Ali to answer. When she said nothing he asked, ‘Have you thought about how soon you’ll return?’

  Ali sighed. He just didn’t get that she really wasn’t going back.

  ‘Let’s not talk about it, Max, please. Thanks to you I’m having a fun couple of days away from the real world. Just you and me. And it’s okay,’ she hastened to add in case he thought she was already picking out china patterns, ‘I know it’s not what either of us need in our lives and it’s nothing serious. I know it’s nothing more than two adults having some fun. But, we’ve both had a terrible year, I think we’ve earned a little fun, don’t you?’

  Max nodded. He couldn’t agree more. ‘Absolutely.’

  She smiled. ‘Good. For a moment there I thought I might have to take this gown off and distract you again.’
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  He grinned. ‘Don’t let me stop you.’

  Heat licked quick and intense between them and her nipples pebbled against the soft terry towelling. Ali dropped her hand to the knot and watched as Max’s gaze followed her movements—undoing the tie, opening the lapels a little and then a little more until her naked breasts were bared to his gaze and the soft morning sunshine.

  Max licked his lips as her large breasts with perfect nipples sat bare and exposed for his own private viewing.

  Him and anyone else out on their balconies on a beautiful Sunday morning with a pair of binoculars.

  He leaned closer to her. ‘Perfect,’ he murmured.

  A loud knock on the door halted his progress and he muttered an expletive.

  Ali grinned. ‘Saved by the bell.’

  He shook his head. ‘Don’t move a muscle,’ he ordered as he stood. ‘It’s probably just a courier with some papers.’ Another sharp rap came from the direction of the front door.

  ‘Later,’ she murmured, securing the robe.

  He dropped a brief hard kiss on her mouth. ‘Tease.’

  Ali smiled at him as he strutted away, his black boxers clinging to him like a second skin. She sighed at the perfection of him and then returned her attention to the book-review section.

  Max swaggered into the kitchen and headed towards the door with a smile on his face, his early morning doubts behind him. Ali seemed to be on the same page as him. A weekend of fun. No strings. No promises. No commitments.

  A perfect weekend.

  Except for Pete, who was standing on the doorstep when Max opened the door.

  Pete took one look at his friend’s state of dress and quirked an eyebrow. ‘Well, well, well,’ he murmured.

  ‘Go away,’ Max ordered, attempting to shut the door.

  Pete chuckled. ‘Not for a million bucks.’ He grinned, his forearm blocking the door’s closure as he angled his body inside the apartment.

  ‘Well, what do we have here?’ Pete asked as his gaze strayed to the partially obscured deck where he could just see a decidedly female hand cradled around a mug.

  ‘Nothing.’

  Max didn’t know what this thing between him and Ali was. And he resented Pete’s appearance, forcing him to define it. He felt the disquiet he’d woken with this morning revisit. What were they doing?