Lawfully His (A Dirty Business Novel Book 1)

by Michelle Betham

  His fingers tighten around mine and I feel his other hand gently nudge my legs a little further apart, and I arch my back a little more, I get ready to feel him, to take him, and when he finally pushes inside me that quiet moan slowly ramps up into a louder, longer groan. The first time we ever had sex I cried, because I think I fell in love with this man way before those feelings were reciprocated, and even then I was terrified of losing him. Of losing this.

  “Stop thinking,” he murmurs, and I open my eyes and I smile at him, and when he smiles back I once more pray for the rest of the world to go away and leave us alone.

  “You don’t know what I’m thinking about,” I whisper, and my mouth rests against his and he laughs, and he gently nips my bottom lip with his teeth as our bodies fall into that familiar rhythm.

  I hold his hand tighter, I grip it like our world’s going to end if I let him go, and I close my eyes again and throw back my head as his mouth rests against the base of my throat. It’s slow and beautiful sex, because I don’t think either of us want it to end too soon. I can feel him pause every now and again; feel him pull out and kiss me before he pushes back into me and I like that he’s taking it at a slower pace. Because I still don’t know how I’m going to feel when this is over.

  He trails a hand over my leg, from my calf right up to my thigh as he moves inside me, his fingers brushing my skin so lightly it sets hundreds of tiny tingles shooting off throughout my body, hitting me in the pit of my stomach, the tips of my toes, the back of my neck. And then he reaches down and he touches me, and he stills for a second and I know he’s close, he’s so close, and as he comes he keeps touching me, keeps pressing against my clit until I’m coming, too. My hips jerk upwards, bucking up against his, and he keeps touching me, and I cry out because it feels so good, and I’m squeezing his hand so tight I must be hurting him, but I still need to believe that he’s here, that this is happening; that he can still make me feel this way. And when it all finally subsides, when we’re left struggling for breath as our bodies try to recover, I’m swamped with a confusion I don’t want but should have expected.

  “You okay?” he breathes, and he smiles slightly as he looks at me, and I wonder if he’s feeling it, too.

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”

  He cups my cheek and he kisses me; a beautiful kiss. A Mike kiss. And I love him, I do, I still love him with every beat of my messed up heart but – I don’t know. The confusion is overwhelming.

  “We’re not going back to the party, right?”

  I smile too, and I cover his hand with mine and I hold it tight, I’m not ready to let him go just yet. “No. We’re not going back to the party.”

  His smile turns into a grin and I pull myself up into a sitting position as he jumps off the bed and heads into the bathroom. I hug my knees to my chest and close my eyes, taking a minute to let it all sink in, what we’ve done here; what the consequences could be. But it’s too late to think straight right now. My head’s still a mess, and that’s my fault; our fault. Neither of us are handling this all that well.

  “I want you to stay, Lola.”

  I look up as he comes out of the bathroom. “Okay.”

  And I don’t know whether he means tonight, for now, or forever. And I don’t think either of us want that conversation just yet. All I know is, at this very moment in time, I’m staying.

  Twelve

  Lola

  I don’t hesitate, not even for a second, as I slide the key into the lock and let myself in. And I know he’s home because his case is in the hallway and his own keys are thrown into the bowl that sits on the shelf underneath the mirror.

  I slip off my coat and hang it up on the row of hooks on the wall opposite the front door before I head into the vast, open-plan living space of his apartment. It’s dark, because it’s late, it’s very late, but he’s left the under-cupboard lighting on in the kitchen, which saves me from turning on any more lights. I don’t want to do that.

  I run my fingers over the countertops, watching as they trail across the cool black marble, I just need a second. That’s all. And then I open the fridge and look inside and I despair of the lack of food in there. Does this man never eat at home? He can’t do, because there’s barely anything edible in here. He does have wine, though, but it isn’t wine I want. So I leave the kitchen and head back into the living room, over to the sideboard by the floor-to-ceiling windows, and I pick up a bottle of bourbon and pour myself a small shot. There’s no lighting in here bar the lights of the city outside, but there’s enough to allow me to see what I’m doing, and I take a small sip of whiskey and smile to myself.

  I put the glass down on the sideboard and look outside, and I do nothing for a couple of beats, I just stare out at the city asleep. Does this city sleep? It still felt very much alive on the cab journey over here. There were still people on the streets, bars and clubs were still very much open and bustling with the Saturday night/Sunday morning crowd. I don’t want to sleep either. I couldn’t. I tried, but I couldn’t.

  I look over toward his bedroom, and the door’s slightly ajar but he obviously hasn’t heard me, and I’m taking a risk here because how do I know he’s alone? Evan King fucks me but he doesn’t have me, not in that way. We’re not exclusive. We have an arrangement, that’s all it is. But I don’t think he has anyone with him tonight. I think he’s alone.

  I face the window again, and I look back outside as I slowly slip my dress down over my shoulders, past my hips until it falls to the floor and I leave it there. And then I slip off my panties and leave them on the floor next to my dress. I’m naked, bar a pair of knee-high boots with killer heels, and I don’t know why I chose to wear this outfit for a house party, at my own place, but maybe, subconsciously, I always knew I’d end up here. I was dressing for him, I just didn’t know it.

  Dragging my fingers through my hair I shake it loose, feel it fall around my shoulders, and I turn and walk toward his bedroom. I’m not nervous, this doesn’t feel wrong, because Evan King makes me a different woman. And I’m beginning to like her. She isn’t what I thought I’d ever be but she’s here, and, yeah. I like her. And I think she’s who I need to be.

  I push his door open a little more, but I don’t go inside, not straightaway. I watch him for a second or two because I’ve never seen him like this. I’ve never stayed the night or seen him sleep, and I think I want to. He’s lying on his back, and he’s got one arm flung over his head, which is turned slightly to one side, his other hand gripping the top of the sheet which he’s pushed down just past his waist, and I take a deep breath as I look at him.

  I walk over to the bed and I kneel up on it, and then I crawl on all fours until I straddle him, and I lean over and rest my mouth against his and I smile. And I kiss him. And he doesn’t even open his eyes but I can already feel his cock growing hard beneath me.

  “It’s the middle of the fucking night, Lola, what are you doing here?”

  I smile again, and I pull the sheet down and his cock springs free and I dip my head and run my tongue lightly over the tip. He groans quietly, his fingers winding in my hair as I lick the pre-cum away and, yeah. It was that easy.

  “Jesus fucking Christ!”

  I take the tip of his cock in my mouth, running my tongue around it, sucking gently, pulling him in deeper but I can’t take him fully. He’s too big, but I take as much of him as I can, letting my hands take up the slack, running my fingers up and down his shaft, I’ve got him now. He can’t go anywhere, he doesn’t want to.

  I cup his balls and take him just that little bit deeper, but that’s enough. It’s all I can manage, but it’s all he needs because it takes just another second or two before he’s coming, hard and fast and I swallow him down. I want to taste him, I want to feel him inside me in every way possible, that’s the only way I can deal with the shit that happened tonight. He’s my escape. My distraction. My fix.

  I keep him in my mouth until I’m sure he’s done, and then I let him pull out, a
nd I leave him alone while I go clean myself up. And when I go back into the bedroom he’s sitting up, the sheet only just covering his still-hard cock. And I smile again because I can’t actually believe I just did that; that I walked into Evan King’s apartment, uninvited, to give him a 4am blow job he never asked for.

  “Get over here, now,” he says, and I don’t argue. Why would I? I need him, that’s why I came here.

  I straddle him again, and he takes hold of my hips and he lifts me up before lowering me back down and as I feel him slip inside me, I can’t keep the smile off my face.

  “Four 0’clock in the fucking morning, Lola. I’m beginning to think I should ask for that key back.”

  “You don’t like surprises?”

  “We really need to get that contract sorted.”

  But I know he’s got his tongue in his cheek, and he laughs quietly as I move against him, as his fingers wind in my hair and he pulls me down for a kiss so deep and dirty I can already feel myself shattering inside, I need him so bad; need this so bad.

  “You aren’t sorting shit as far as I’m concerned,” I murmur, and I reach down to touch myself, touching him as I do so, and his groans echo off the walls, filling the silence.

  “I should’ve gotten myself a nice little well behaved secretary. One who wouldn’t take advantage of her way too lenient boss.”

  I raise an eyebrow, and my fingers are still circling my clit, his cock still pumping away inside of me. “Lenient?”

  He grins, and I know that what I did tonight – it was the right thing to do. It was the only way I could make that choice, and I was right. When Mike made love to me it was the most beautiful thing, and for those few, glorious minutes he was back. My boy was back. And we were together, like we were supposed to be, only, I don’t think we can go back. We knew, me maybe more than him but we knew, both of us, that we just can’t do it. He’d hurt me too much, and I can’t fix it that way.

  “Evan King lenient, huh?”

  His fingers dig into my hips and he flips me over onto my back, and he rams harder and faster into me, pulling out almost completely before thrusting back inside me, and I cry out, but the pain is insignificant, I like it. I think I need it. And he keeps hold of my thighs as he literally slams into me, again and again, his hips crashing against mine, every inch of his cock deep inside me and when the climax comes I don’t hold out, I can’t. My body feels like it’s on fire, like my skin is burning up, like a million fireworks are being set off in every direction, it’s crazy! And when he comes too it only intensifies everything, and I feel it again, twice as hard and twice as beautiful.

  And when we’re done I close my eyes and feel his hand take mine, his breath burning my skin as his mouth brushes my neck. “Now why are you really here, Lola?”

  Evan

  I let go of her hand and I get up and go over to the window, resting my forehead against the glass.

  “I slept with him. I slept with Mike.”

  I keep my eyes closed and my hand balls into a tight fist that part of me wants to slam right through this window. “And now you’re in my bed?”

  “Did you want me to lie to you?”

  I don’t know when this all started changing; when I suddenly lost control of my own game, I only know that, the day I found out who Mike Carrington was, something happened. Something changed, and I’m fighting admitting it, I’m fucking fighting it, because I’ve only known her a week. And that isn’t long enough to know shit. Is it?

  I turn around and I look at her, and she’s beautiful and hot-as-hell and I need her like I’ve never needed anything before, and that can’t happen. The reasons why we’re doing this, they can’t change. Or this all turns to crap.

  “Everything we’re doing is a lie, Lola. We go out there every day, me and you, and we lie. To Dana, to Jess, to Mike – we lie, about what we are to each other.”

  She stares at me, holding my gaze, and the air is filled with an atmosphere I don’t like, it isn’t making me feel comfortable. “And what are we, exactly?”

  She gets up and comes over to me, and I watch as she sways those hips and runs her fingers through her hair and she is freaking killing me. But I can’t ignore the fact he’s been inside her tonight. She’s my property, I just didn’t really make that clear to her. I don’t share, I never have and I never will, I don’t need to.

  “What did he feel like, Lola?”

  “No, you don’t get to ask another question without answering one first. What are we, Evan?”

  I reach out and pull her against me, her warm, soft, naked skin pressing against mine and I drop my head and bury my face in her shoulder, breathing her in. I can’t smell him on her, so she must have showered after they’d fucked.

  “I don’t share, Lola.”

  “I had to know,” she whispers, and her fingers slide across the back of my neck, into my hair, and I close my eyes and let her touch me.

  “Know what?”

  “If I could go back.”

  I take her face in my hands and I make her look at me. And I don’t say anything because she knows what I’m asking.

  “I’m here, Evan. There’s your answer.”

  I rest my forehead against hers and close my eyes again, and my thumb strokes her cheek and all I can hear is her heart beating, our breathing. And I’ve never been so fucking scared of a situation turning so fast that I can’t remember when I lost all control. I knew they were unfinished business before they did. I watched them together, saw the way they looked at each other, even if they didn’t know, didn’t think those looks meant anything. They did. That history they have, it wasn’t over. So they were always going to sleep together, I knew that. I’m not naïve enough to think it wouldn’t happen. But hearing her say the words – I had no idea it was going to hit me this way, make me feel so numb. He doesn’t deserve that second chance, and I wanted to think she was stronger than this. But it’s been so long since I was in love, and that didn’t turn out so well. I’ve tried to block out how those feelings affect you, how they can fuck with your head, and the choices you make when they take hold of your heart and squeeze it so hard you can’t breathe – those choices can wreck shit.

  “You need to go.”

  I pull away from her, and she looks slightly hurt. But this is the way it has to be. For now. I need to think.

  “Is that what you want?”

  I look at her, and I can’t stop myself, this is what I mean. I’m fucking losing it, and I don’t lose my shit like this, but this woman – she’s got to me.

  I take hold of her waist and I swing her back against the wall and I kiss her, and the second I taste her I want her again and I am fighting so fucking hard here.

  “No, Lola, what I want is for you not to have slept with him. Because you belong to me, did you not get that? Did you not understand that?”

  “I must’ve missed that memo.”

  I lean into her, my hand up against the wall beside her head and her eyes – they’re hard and cold and I want her so fucking much…

  “Maybe you need a little reminder of the way this works, hmm? Because I think you might’ve forgotten the rules.”

  “There were no rules, Evan. You’re making this up as you go along, just as much as I am.”

  “You still want to work for me?”

  She reaches out and touches my face, runs her fingers across my cheek, resting them on my mouth. “You know I do.”

  “Then know that I’m not sharing you.”

  “Me and Mike are over.”

  I look at her, right into her eyes and I think I believe her. She isn’t some ditzy, naïve kid, she knows she can’t lie to me. “Then we’re okay.”

  She smiles, and I know we’re not okay. I’m not okay. In the space of a week this woman has messed me up, turned my life on its fucking head, and I have to come back from that before I set foot inside Cavendish King on Monday morning. Or I am done.

  Thirteen

  Lola

  “Good week
end?”

  I look up as Jess slides down into the chair opposite me at one of the tables in the partners’ kitchen. “I’m not sure, actually.”

  She frowns, and I sigh quietly.

  “Ignore me. I drank way too much vodka last night and now I’m paying for it.”

  “Uh uh. You don’t get away with it that easily. What’s happened?”

  I wait a couple of beats before I answer her. “I slept with Mike.”

  “You… Really…?”

  “Really. Kat had this party at our apartment on Saturday night, he turned up, we talked, he kissed me, we slept together.” I shrug. “It happened.”

  “Do you regret it?”

  I sit back and shake my head. “No. It was always going to happen, I think we both knew that.” I pick up a teaspoon that’s lying on the table and start twisting it between my fingers. “I still love him, Jess. But we can’t go back.”

  “Do you want to?”

  I just look at her. I don’t say anything.

  “Does he want to?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t even stay the night, I left and went…” I stop talking, because I almost said too much there. “I had to get away. I had to think. Him turning up like this, it’s really messed with my head, but, y’know, my head was a mess when he wasn’t here. It’s just – I don’t know. Maybe I’d be able to deal with this a lot better… maybe it’d be easier if he wasn’t here. At Cavendish King. Maybe I could deal with walking away more easily if I didn’t have to see him every day.”

  “You’re not thinking of leaving us, are you?”

  I look at her, and I smile at her genuinely concerned expression. “No. I’m not going anywhere. I love this job, so, I guess I’m just going to have to suck it up, grow up, and get on with it.”

  “And what about Mike?”

  “He’s going to have to do the same. It’s not an ideal situation but it’s the one we’re in. And like I said, I’m not leaving this job. I’m going nowhere.”