He looked up as she entered. “Morning, sleepyhead.”
“Morning.” She walked up to him and slipped her arms around his waist. “Mmmm, French toast, what’s the occasion?”
He twisted and kissed her quickly. “Have a seat. We’ll eat while we discuss it.” He reached for two plates and flipped the toast out, sprinkling each with powdered sugar. “Grab the juice will you, Lanie?”
He had strawberries, washed and capped, and bacon as well. She moved in slow motion still groggy from sleep. Noting his grin, her lips curved in return. She couldn’t help it; his smiles were beautiful and infectious. Arching a brow in question, she asked. “What’s up? You look like the cat that swallowed the canary.”
Ethan passed her the morning paper and leaning back, folded his arms and watched her. When she stared at him blankly, he laughed. “Read the headline out loud, Lanie.”
“Simons Swindles Parnters.” She gaped at him in shock. “Already? The trial only started yesterday.”
“Do you want to read it or should I tell you?”
“Tell me. I can’t wait.”
“He plead no contest. Five years, eligible for parole in half, restitution to the tune of three million, which includes penalties, and the State Bar Association has already moved for disbarment.”
“Two and a half years?” Lanie wrinkled her nose as she scanned the article. “I was hoping for more.”
“Baby, this is a victory. The civil trial starts Thursday and you’ll soon be able to put all of this behind you.”
She nodded as folded the paper and set it aside. “It is good, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely. Eat your breakfast before it gets cold.”
They ate in companionable silence, both enjoying the sweet, syrupy goodness of the far from healthy breakfast. Lanie, in a particularly good mood now that she’d brushed off the cobwebs of sleep, had a contented stomach full of her favorite breakfast food, and the good news that signaled the beginning of the end for Walt Simons.
Lanie sighed. “I wish you didn’t have to leave tomorrow.”
“Me too. I’ll try to be back in time for your opening. I’ve got a panel discussion at nine and my flight is at eleven thirty. Barring delays, I should make it.”
She really wanted him there, but he was the keynote speaker at the criminal law seminar put on by the National Association every year. He’d committed to it months ago and it was too late to back out now.
“Court is at one o’clock, honey. Flight time from Baltimore is at least an hour and after battling for luggage, parking, and the four mile drive from Logan International at that time of day… I don’t want you killing yourself to get there. I’ll have Beth with me.”
“You need more suits at the table. I’ll see what I can do. I have several students, some older and very lawyerly that need more observation time. I’ll have them spit polished and turned out in force.
“Thanks.” There was only one suit she cared about.
“It’s going to be okay, Lanie.” He reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “You’ve got a strong case. You’ve got this.”
She hadn’t felt this nervous since her first trial appearance almost five years ago. But this was WW&S, not only was it important, but it was personal. Beth was in her corner, as she’d said, but with virtually no trial experience. Lanie was really going it alone, which was somewhat nerve-racking. Self-doubt wasn’t like the Ice Queen, but she worried she’d aimed too high this time.
“Do you think I made a mistake going after all of them together?”
“When more and more women kept coming to you, what choice did you have? Trying them separately would have taken years.”
“Maybe I should have just stuck with Simons.”
There were eight women in all. Each one had been approached by Walt Simons for sex in exchange for various reasons, some to keep from getting fired and others with promises of promotion, pay raises and other perks that had never come to pass. Most, like Lanie, had refused and were punished by being treated unfairly, been the subject of crude jokes, a swat on the ass now and then, or threatened with termination. Some had given in, feeling they had no choice in order to keep their job. When two of the women claimed that Williams and Wolfe knew about it and did nothing to stop it, Lanie had expanded the lawsuit and named the firm and all of the partners in the suit.
“What is the cardinal rule in civil cases regarding damages, Lanie?” Sounding like the law professor that he was, she readily accepted Ethan’s guidance, even in lecture mode. There was a reason he was asked to speak on the national stage; he was a damn good.
“Go after the deepest pockets.”
“Correct. The firm is worth tens of millions. Simons alone only a fraction of that. They are equally responsible for allowing his activities to go unchecked for as long as they did. As such, Williams and Wolfe should share equally in any and all civil penalties.”
She knew this. Had told herself over and over that this was the right course of action. But at the eleventh hour, she always felt little niggles of worry. Pretrial nerves, she supposed, like opening night jitters or cold feet before the wedding. It was important to her clients, who often had everything to lose, to give a strong, meticulous, impenetrable defense. She would have eventually talked herself out of her nerves, at least before court convened, but Ethan had a way of getting her there faster. Certainly, he’d reiterate the points of law and the precedence she had painstakingly researched and studied. He’d point out other avenues of defense that she’d often already considered and discharged. As Ethan often reminded her, she was more than competent and had proved her skill repeatedly, but she looked forward to their discussions. The bolstered her confidence and his calm, reassuring manner, put her at ease, which was often the only thing she really needed.
“I’m still amazed they let this go to trial.”
“Simon’s unremitting arrogance is the reason, I’m sure.”
“From the discovery, they’re planning to trash every one of my clients. It’s a joke. They are good honest women.”
“You’ve prepared them?”
“Thoroughly, and I’ve covered all my bases. I’m certain.”
“Then you’re ready.”
Yes, she was. Looking down at her plate, she was surprised to see she’d eaten two slices of the vanilla and cinnamon infused toast soaked in syrup, several strips of bacon and drank all her juice. She glanced up to find Ethan observing her eat, a hint of amusement in his beard darkened face.
“You’re a miracle worker. I usually can’t eat in the days leading up to a trial.”
He winked at her as he munched on a crispy piece of bacon. “We’ll need to make this part of your pretrial prep then.” He forked the remaining French toast onto his plate and refilled his juice glass.
Pleasantly full and relaxed, she sat back, smiling as she watched Ethan easily put away at least double her portions. At forty-two, he was as fit as a man fifteen years younger, with hardly an ounce of body fat, which was amazing considering his appetite. He ate what he wanted but it never seemed to catch up with him. Her eyes traveled over his upper body, his chest was firm and well defined, strong shoulders, with rippling biceps and forearms. Not a body builder type of bulge, but leaner and more subtle… yummy. She picked up a strawberry and sucked on the end as he rose and gathered their plates.
“More?” he asked as he carried them to the kitchen.
Lanie’s eyes skimmed over his back and down to his perfect ass, toned from running, it was tight and firm, but fleshy enough to grab onto while he was pumping into her. As usual, thoughts of her husband’s gorgeous body had her squirming in her seat.
“Lanie?”
Her eyes shifted to see him standing in the doorway. The amused look on his face said he’d caught her gawking. She shrugged, without pretense.
“No thanks, I’m stuffed. It was wonderful, Ethan.”
He nodded as he left the room.
She heard him moving around in the
kitchen. The water turned on and she could hear him loading the dishwasher. He helped around the house, which to her was very sexy, especially since he did it in shorts or the lounge pants he favored. The image of the material molding to his ass as he bent to load the dishwasher popped in her head and a wicked idea followed.
Moving quickly around the table to his spot, she pushed aside his place setting. Perching her ass where his place mat had been, she parted her robe and lay back on the table. As she settled in, the pepper mill poked into her side and her elbow smacked against the fruit bowl. She rolled to clear a larger space when she spied the syrup bottle. Grabbing it, she found it was still warm and got a wonderfully naughty idea. Lying back, she parted her thighs and bent her knees, balancing her heels on the edge of the table. Her final preparation was the drizzling of the still warm syrup over her nipples and in a thin line down her belly.
“More coffee?” he called to her.
“Yes, please.” She didn’t want more. One cup was her limit, but she needed to make sure he came back in the dining room quickly before the syrup dripped into other places, and before she lost her nerve.
“Lanie, one other thought occurred to me about your case—” As he walked in, he stopped dead in his tracks. Slack-jawed with wonder, he did a slow scan—no, slow didn’t do it justice—he made a long lingering perusal from head to toe. Setting the coffee pot on the sideboard, he approached with a huge grin.
“I thought you might like dessert,” Lanie whispered, more than ready to be the sweet course to cap off his meal.
Coming to stand between her thighs, he appeared speechless as he perused the sticky trail of syrup. Despite the fact that this was her idea, heat rushed to her face, spreading down her neck and over her chest at her daring. She quivered with anticipation as his hands glided up her calves and he pushed her thighs apart, spreading her to accommodate him. Bending to her, his mouth found her belly, his tongue slowly following the syrupy path. He dipped into her navel, greedily lapping up the small pool that had formed.
Lanie’s fingers speared into his wavy dark hair, fisting into the silky strands. When his teeth captured her nipple and bit down gently, her hands tightened as she pulled his head closer. She didn’t ease her grip until he captured her wrists and pinned them by her sides.
“Sorry, honey.” She gasped, when she realized she’d nearly snatched him bald.
He didn’t respond, except to double his efforts, sucking her nipple deep. The hum of his pleasure sending vibration buzzing across her skin.
“Ethan,” she sighed longingly.
His tongue drove her wild, gorging hungrily on each nipple. He licked every drop off her body, then with the syrup bottle in hand, moved between her thighs. “I think you missed a spot.”
Rough with desire, his voice rasped in a husky growl—so sexy. A chair scraped across the floor as he made himself comfortable between her legs. Holding the bottle up high, he drizzled the syrup, still warm, thankfully, along her mound letting it trickle down her slit. With his free hand, he parted her lips and dripped more rivulets of warm syrup over her clit and inner folds.
“Honey.” Her cry turned into a throaty groan as his tongue licked into her. That one taste made him ravenous. His thumbs pulled her apart as his lips seared her flesh and his mouth all but fused to her. Voraciously, he lapped up all the sticky sweetness. After a few moments of devouring her, he lifted his head a fraction and growled, “The syrup is sweet, but you are so much sweeter. I could stay here forever. Diabetic coma be damned.”
Lanie’s delighted laugh was choked off as his tongue dove back inside for more. Shamelessly, she spread wider, giving him a clear path by bringing her knees to her chest. She wrapped her hands around them and hung on, as each stroke of his tongue carried closer to climax. When Ethan slid down and licked her puckered ass, her muscles contracted fiercely, her back bowing off the table as she cried out to him.
“Please, I’m almost there, Ethan.”
“Come, Lanie. After you do, I’ll be inside you.”
She screamed out her passion, as his tongue and teeth once again found her clit. As promised, in the midst of her orgasm, he sank into her. The feel of his hardness stretched her, his cock gliding over every nerve ending as he filled her completely, spurred her into another climax. Ethan groaned as she clamped around him, increasing his pace until he was slamming into her.
The glasses and bowls rattled, and something fell to the floor with a thud. That didn’t deter him. In fact, he draped her legs over his chest, her heels hooking over his shoulders and drove into her faster, going oh, so deep. She didn’t think he could go any farther, until he hooked his arms behind her knees and pressed forward, leaning over her, folding her legs against her chest. With each penetrating thrust, he bumped against her cervix prompting her hands to spread flat against his chest in self-preservation.
Keenly attuned to her, as always, he eased back slightly and changed the angle of his thrusts. He rode her relentlessly until she came again. Her release rushed through her, immersing her in sensation so profound, she mentally checked out for a moment, coming back to awareness with a distant buzzing in her ears, every muscle in her body as limp as a wet noodle.
As she opened her eyes, she took stock. Flat on her back, her body still hummed pleasantly. Something soft tickled her breast. Looking down, she saw Ethan’s head cushioned between her breasts, his soft hair fluttering gently in the circulating air from the heat vents. His body lay half on top of her and she had no idea when he’d gotten there.
“Wow! That was… really, um… wow!”
Still lodged deep inside her, he lifted his head and smiled down at her, wearing a hazy, rather unfocused look of his own. “Are you okay, baby?”
“Yeah, but I think I passed out for a minute.”
His lips quirked upward as a hand came up to stroke her cheek, brushing damp tendrils of her hair back from her face. “I think when you came three times so closely together, you forgot to breathe.”
“I did get all tingly and my vision got kind of fuzzy. There was also a roaring in my ears for a minute. I didn’t hear you come.” She frowned. “You did come didn’t you, Ethan?”
“Oh yes, I got tingly and fuzzy all over too.”
She smiled sweetly up at him, cupping his hand where it rested on her face and nuzzling her cheek into his palm. “Thank you for breakfast, honey.”
“If I can have you for dessert, I’ll cook all your meals, Lanie.” His lips touched hers tenderly before he pushed up on his hands and looked down at the mess they’d made, their sticky skin clinging together in places. “We really need to shower.”
“It is getting kind of tacky. In a few more minutes it would have been like superglue and we’d have been stuck together forever.”
“I could live with that.”
“You’ve got your speech at the Brooks Foundation dinner tonight, remember? People might talk if we come in looking like Siamese twins.”
He eased out and they both grimaced at the sticky state of their intimate parts. As Lanie sat up, she brushed crumbled bacon off Ethan’s forearm. “You’re a mess, honey.”
“Wait until you see yourself.” She followed his hand as he pulled off a paper napkin that had become glued to her shoulder, switching her gaze to his face as he started finger combing her hair.
“Is it that bad?”
He grinned. “Do strawberries stain?”
She glanced down at her robe. Several mashed berries had left red stains. “Yeah, it’s probably ruined.” The robe was fairly new, and expensive. But she didn’t care in the least. It had been worth it.
He held up a squashed strawberry where she could see. “I was talking about your hair. How do you feel about being a strawberry blonde?”
Both her hands flew to her head and she pulled out several more smashed berries, staring at the juice tinting her fingers. “What a coincidence. I was actually considering a change.”
“I prefer you blonde. Let’s go wash it
out.” Ethan’s hands clasped her waist and lifted her down. He took her by the hand and led a contented Lanie up to the shower, the stress of the upcoming trial, however briefly, was forgotten.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Rehearsing her opening statement aloud, Lanie strode back and forth in her small office. When she bumped her knee on the console table for the third time she began to regret not working at home. She usually practiced in their cozy study where she’d pace the length of the large Persian rug in front of the stone hearth. She’d tried the bedroom, but more often than not wound up with her back on the soft rug, Ethan’s mouth between her legs or riding him astride in front of the new mirror she’d had installed in the seating area. Although enjoyable activities, neither were productive for her client unless you count how it cleared her head and helped her concentrate better afterward.
Ethan was her sounding board, her cheerleader and sometimes played devil’s advocate or critic, and she could always count on him for honest feedback. But tonight he was gone and she hadn’t wanted to go home, to face that big empty house all alone. Before he’d left, she’d run through her opening statement while Ethan offered his suggestions, sometimes interrupting to clarify a point, but mostly nodding his approval.
The knock on her door was a welcome interruption. When she looked up, Beth was poking her head in.
“Want to grab something to eat, Lanie?”
“No thanks. I had a late lunch and I’m not hungry.”
“You mean that half eaten salad in the fridge? Honey, that rabbit food is hardly what I’d call brain power. Ethan will have a cow.”
“He won’t be back until tomorrow. I’ll eat then. I hate when he goes out of town. I like routine. This is not routine.”
“Are you okay? You seem wired.”
“I’m on edge. I’ve been rehearsing my opening and it’s not right.”
“It’s perfect. I’ve heard it three times and you’re gonna kick ass tomorrow.”
She shook her head, frowning at her friend. “Something’s missing, but don’t worry, hon. I’ll get it by tomorrow.”
Lanie's Lessons Page 23
