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by Carsen Taite

  “Pizza sounds perfect.” Camille reached back and took her hand. “Lead the way.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  “You’re yawning,” West said as she drove through the streets of downtown Dallas. “Are you sure you’re up for dinner out?”

  Camille stifled a second yawn. Now that she was out of the crowd of people vying for her attention, exhaustion had hit full force, but she didn’t want to miss out on this opportunity to be alone with West. The last week of barely speaking to each other had left her feeling more bereft than she cared to admit. “Just a little drained from the crowd and the week in trial.” An idea popped in her head, and she spoke before she could change her mind. “I might not be up for dinner out after all, but would you consider dinner in?”

  “Tell me more about this plan.”

  “It’s pretty simple, actually. Pizza to go. I’m sure I have a bottle of wine and some beer at my place, and I think it’s clean enough for visitors, although this week’s been such a whirlwind, I’m not entirely sure some of my clothes aren’t strewn about the living room.” She felt the slow burn of a blush as she thought about her clothes scattered around for a more salacious reason having nothing to do with poor housekeeping and everything to do with West. “But if you’d rather not, that’s okay, I mean we can—”

  “Your place, pizza, possibly imperfect housekeeping,” West interrupted with a grin. “I’m in.”

  Thirty minutes later, pizza procured, Camille directed West to her condo. When they walked through the foyer, Camille looked around for any stray articles of clothing, wineglasses, or other debris from her haphazard week, and sighed with relief when everything was in relatively good order.

  “You can set that in the kitchen and help yourself to anything in the fridge. I’ll be right back.” She didn’t wait for an answer before taking off upstairs to her bedroom. Her mission was to change out of her dress into something more comfortable, but now that she was standing in her closet, contemplating her options, she began to think inviting West here, to her home, had been a crazy idea fraught with peril. She slid the hanger containing her favorite silk robe to the back of the closet, choosing instead a pair of yoga pants and a well-worn UT Law T-shirt. Nothing sexy about that. She changed quickly and started back downstairs.

  The kitchen was visible from the landing, and she paused for a moment to watch West leaning back against the counter, drinking from a beer bottle. She’d shed her suit jacket, loosened her tie, and her shirt-sleeves were rolled up to her elbows. Her hair, that had been perfectly coiffed for the party, was now pleasantly mussed, with wispy tendrils curling around her ears and collar. Camille imagined running her hands through the dark waves. Was it thick and coarse or fine and soft? Would West welcome the touch? A week ago, she would’ve been certain of West’s response, but after the wall she’d erected between them, did West still want her?

  Camille descended the stairs, determined to set aside expectations of anything other than a friendly evening. She had no business asking for anything more.

  “Do you like the stout?” Camille asked as she entered the kitchen.

  West raised the bottle. “More love than like. I don’t recognize the brand, but I love the name. Joe Mama’s Milk. Perfection.”

  Camille laughed. “Leave it to Jaylyn. I mentioned you’d introduced me to a local stout, and she said I had to try this. A client from New York sent her a case. She doesn’t normally care for beer, but she said she’s become addicted to the stuff. Too bad you can’t buy it around here.”

  “Definitely. Am I tasting coffee in this?”

  “You are. Isn’t it amazing?” Camille was standing beside West now. She wanted to say there were a lot more amazing things than the beer. The way West’s eyes darkened when she drew close. The sexy ease of her casual stance, like she was unflappable and open to whatever path this evening might take. On some level, Camille had expected West might be sullen, still upset about having been pulled from the case, but she appeared to be relaxed and happy. “Are you hungry?”

  The words tumbled out as a planned segue to something other than where her thoughts were headed, but they echoed in her head, ringing with innuendo. She started to overcorrect, to point to the box of pizza to clear up her faux pas, but before she could speak, West set the bottle down and pulled her close. So close.

  “I’m starving,” West breathed the words next to her ear, warm and inviting. She ran her hand down Camille’s side, and she tilted her head back, inviting West closer. The kiss started the same as the one before. Soft, light brushes of skin leaving a trail of ignited nerve endings with each stroke. Camille groaned as West pressed harder, her lips, her tongue both insistent on tasting her completely. Wet, hot heat flooded through her belly and she kissed back, unwilling to resist any longer. Nothing else mattered at this moment—not the job, not the age difference, not their roles—only the desire burning through her soul and the longing to be consumed by it.

  “Take me.” West leaned back and gazed at her like she was trying to gauge the truth of what she’d just heard. Camille repeated the words. “Take me. Now.”

  This time West claimed her lips like they were lovers who’d kissed a thousand times, but knew each one could be the last. Camille surrendered to the heady glow. Her body was on fire, vibrating to her core with the desire to feel West’s skin against her own. When they finally broke for air, Camille breathed a single word. “Bed.”

  She led the way upstairs to her bedroom. All thoughts about the condition of her housekeeping had vanished in the wake of West’s kisses, but another form of trepidation crept in with each step closer to her room. This was the first time she’d brought anyone back to this condo, let alone this bedroom.

  “Are you okay?”

  She started at the sound of West’s voice. They were at the top of the stairs, and she paused before walking toward her room. She had been saving this place. The condo, the career—they both represented new beginnings, setting down roots. Permanence. She hadn’t brought anyone else back here because no one had fit her life for the long term. No one was special enough to include in this chapter. If she walked down the hall with West right now, did that mean they had some sort of future together? Did she want them to?

  “Is this what you want?”

  West’s words echoing her thoughts had to be a sign, a beacon guiding her to her destiny. But was her future down the hall or back the way they’d come? For a brief moment her mind flashed to the photograph of her and West kissing in the kitchenette at the courthouse. Was someone watching now? Did she care? The flood of arousal crowded out her ability to reason, and the only thing she could be sure of was if she didn’t have West now, she’d regret it the rest of her life.

  West ran her hand down Camille’s arm and felt her shudder. Things had moved both fast and slow at the same time, but whatever the speed, she couldn’t keep up. Camille had led the way up the stairs, sending strong signals sex was in their future, but now she was standing still, mere yards from the bed she said was their destination, and West wasn’t sure where they were headed. She’d followed Camille’s lead to this point, but what if the path led nowhere? Should she bow out gracefully and write Camille’s invitation off to residual glow from the limelight she’d basked in earlier this evening?

  “This is exactly what I want,” Camille finally answered. “But only if you want it too.”

  West witnessed the mix of determination and doubt on Camille’s face and answered by claiming her lips once again. She kissed and teased until Camille was limp in her arms and then told her what she needed to hear. “I want nothing more.”

  West followed Camille to her room, catching only slight details about her surroundings before they fell on the bed, a tangled twist of bodies unable to get close enough. West pulled Camille’s T-shirt over her head, gasping when her lush, ample breasts were revealed. “You are so beautiful.”

  Camille grinned. “I bet you say that to all the judges.”

  “Only th
e truly hot ones.” West raised a hand and started ticking off fingers. “Let me count them.” She tapped one finger against her palm. “There’s you and then there’s…hmmm.”

  Camille grabbed the waistband of her trousers and pulled her close, her voice a sexy whisper. “You’re hilarious.”

  “I’m right and you know it,” West replied. She ran her hands down Camille’s back, enjoying the way her body shivered at the touch. “Perfect.”

  “It would be more perfect if you were out of that suit.”

  “I thought you liked the suit,” West teased her.

  “Love it. Would love it more if it were on the floor.”

  West pushed up from the bed, slowly unbuttoning her pants and sliding down the zippered fly. She reached inside and ran her hand along the crease of her boxer brief, shuddering at the slight pressure, imagining Camille’s hand there instead of her own.

  “You’re driving me crazy.”

  “That’s the plan. Or, if you wanted, you could come along for the ride.”

  Camille answered by lying back and shimmying out of her pants, leaving her completely nude. West’s entire body hummed with excitement as she watched Camille reach down and slide a finger through her glistening, hot sex. West swayed in place as Camille added more fingers to the play, and arched against her own touch. Each pass of her hand drove West insane, but she waited, knowing Camille was sending a message with this overt display of vulnerability, but when Camille moaned, West couldn’t stand it any longer. She shucked off her clothes and walked to the edge of the bed, lowering her body between Camille’s thighs.

  West drew lazy circles with her tongue to slow the pace, drinking in the scent of Camille’s arousal. Once Camille’s breath steadied into a solid rhythm, West slid a finger through her wet center and curved upward, searching for friction. Camille bucked beneath her, and West varied the pace, licking harder, softer, faster, slower as Camille crested peak after peak at her command. When she finally sucked Camille’s clit between her lips, she thrashed wildly in her arms. West drew the flat of her tongue along Camille’s clit and thrust her fingers in and out of her sex to meet the intensity of her surging orgasm. When Camille screamed her pleasure, West curled around her and held her tightly through the shuddering aftershocks.

  “Incredible,” West whispered.

  “You are.” Camille’s voice was breathy and faint.

  “Let’s call it a draw.”

  “Deal.”

  West tugged Camille closer, into the crook of her arm. “Can I get you anything? Water, beer? Pizza?”

  “Only if you can levitate it up the stairs.” Camille rolled onto her side and threw her arm over West’s stomach. “Because no way in hell am I letting you out of this bed right now.”

  “Your call. I just thought you might be hungry after all that, uh, exertion.”

  Camille play-slapped her. “Oh, I’m very hungry, but everything I need is right here.” She traced her fingers around West’s breasts, taking care to keep her touch feather-light. She wanted to prolong the buildup, but after the incredible orgasm she’d just had, holding back was hard. When she skimmed West’s nipples with the palm of her hand, West bucked into her touch.

  “Talk about driving people crazy,” West whispered in a jagged breath.

  Camille answered by lowering her head and flicking her tongue around West’s nipples, loving that they were already stiff with arousal. “Mmm,” she murmured. “So good.”

  West’s hand reached for hers and drew it downward until Camille’s fingers felt the wet heat between West’s legs. “Touch me,” West begged.

  Camille slid her fingers through the slick folds, loving the groans of pleasure each pass elicited. Since that night in the office when West had first kissed her, she’d imagined this moment, but never thought it could happen, never thought she would let it happen. West was the pursuer, and she’d run from the chase because it was the safe, sensible thing to do. Would she have run if she’d known it could feel this good? The answer was clear, and now that she’d been captured by West’s spell, it was her turn to pursue, to catch, and to return the pleasure. Safe and sensible be damned.

  At West’s urging, Camille stroked with increased intensity while she licked and sucked West’s breasts, reveling in the way their bodies melded into one giant ball of pleasure. When West’s pelvis rocked in her hand, she amped up the pressure until West surrendered to the orgasm and fell limp in her arms.

  * * *

  Camille woke to the smell of coffee, rolled over, and saw West standing in her bedroom doorway, naked except for the tray she held in her hands. “You are perfection.” She rubbed her eyes. “I can’t remember the last time I slept so hard.”

  “Sex does that to a person,” West said. “Good sex, anyway.”

  She set the tray on the nightstand and settled on the edge of the bed. Camille reached an arm around her waist and pulled her close. “It’s kind of a miracle I’m awake at all.” Camille closed her eyes and replayed the night they’d shared. She’d never been with such an attentive lover, and she couldn’t remember ever feeling so satisfied and yet so ready for more in her life.

  “And this is why I brewed the strong stuff,” West said, pouring them each a cup. “I see you not only stock great beer, but righteous coffee too.”

  “I think your good taste might be rubbing off on me. I used to go through the drive-through at Starbucks. Now, I’m spoiled.”

  “Heathen. Glad to hear you’re turning your life around.” West raised her cup. “To being spoiled.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Camille said, savoring the bold brew. “Perfect. Thank you.” She lowered the mug. “Thank you for everything. Last night was incredible.” Camille read a look of hope in West’s eyes as if she expected to hear more. Her words carried a hint of finality and farewell, and she regretted the way reality seeped into the intimacy between them, but there was nothing she could do. The lines they’d crossed last night would snap back into place on Monday morning whether she wanted them to or not.

  Don’t rush it. Enjoy the moment. Camille set her mug on the nightstand and reached for West’s hand. She drew it to her lips, dropping tender kisses on her palm and her fingertips. “Talk to me.”

  “What do you want to talk about?”

  “Tell me why you became a lawyer. And don’t tell me you were following in Judge Blair’s footsteps. You don’t strike me as a follower.”

  West laughed and scooted closer on the bed. “You’re right about that.” She drank from her coffee, her eyes settled on a spot across the room as she relayed her story. “I told you I wound up in the system when I was a kid. I spent a lot of time in court and got to see a lot of lawyers at work. Good ones, bad ones—the whole range—but no matter how skilled or careless, they all had something in common. They spoke for people who couldn’t or shouldn’t speak for themselves. They took a stand and took charge.” She looked down, and Camille followed her gaze, seeing the bed sheet clenched tightly in West’s hand. “I wanted that. I wanted to be in charge of my own life.”

  Camille drew West into her arms. “And how do you feel about being a lawyer now that you’re stuck doing a job you hate?”

  West looked into her eyes. “I don’t hate it. It’s not what I would’ve chosen, but I admit Hank wasn’t wrong when he said it was the best foundation an advocate can have. I guess there’s something to be said for perspective.” She ran a finger down the side of Camille’s breast. “Besides, no one explained all the perks of the job, or I would have been on board way before now.”

  Camille knew she was teasing, but West’s words set off alarms. She didn’t regret the intimacy they’d shared—far from it—but she couldn’t deny she’d transgressed boundaries that were in place for a reason. West was her employee, but more than that, she was supposed to be a mentor to West, teaching her, guiding her in her chosen field. Their roles were blurred enough now. What would happen if they continued down this path?

  She couldn’t wait
around to find out. A moment ago, she’d felt very sensuous, lounging in bed, nude, freshly rested from a night of hot sex with her young lover, but suddenly, her naked body and West’s doting presence were stark reminders of the sacrifices she’d have to make to have what she’d planned for her future.

  “Camille?” West’s eyes were narrowed in concern. “Are you okay?”

  “West.” Camille cleared her throat and pushed on, determined to be quick and clear. Like any good lawyer, she’d sorted the relevant points she wanted to make and was ready for a skilled and convincing argument, but when she finally opened her mouth all that came out was, “I can’t.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  West pounded through the rain like she was being chased by a pack of wolves. Several times she slipped and nearly fell into the already heavy Monday morning traffic along Greenville Avenue. In the still dark morning, if she slipped there was a strong chance she’d be mowed down by one of the oncoming cars zipping off to work. Who were these people in such a hurry to get to their jobs? Did they love their careers? Bet none of them were in love with bosses that didn’t love them back.

  Love. Holy shit. Talk about slipping. When had lust for the hot older woman she’d met by chance turn into something more substantial? It wasn’t the sex, although the sex had been fantastic right up until the moment Camille cut it off. No, the passion she had for Camille had been growing steadily since the moment she’d walked into her office on her first day at work and watched her try to keep her cool while pretending they’d never met. Camille was smart, driven, and honorable—qualities West admired, qualities she possessed as well, so why shouldn’t they make a perfect match?

  The answer couldn’t be as simple as different ages and experience. Both of those constructs had been easily overcome by countless others before them. It had to be something else. She’d tried to pull it out of Camille without success. Camille would only say she was sorry she’d crossed a line and whatever had happened between them was over, like saying she was done made it so. West got that Camille was hung up on the boss-employee thing, and West understood to a point, but her clerkship was temporary and Camille’s pronouncement was permanent.