by Kim Linwood
I stumble, my heel catching in a crack. His hands are quick as lightning, steadying me almost before I’ve even realized I’m tripping. “Watch your step, babe.”
The heat from his touch burns against my cold, wet skin. I let myself enjoy it, but only for a second. “This is stupid. I’m going to catch a cab. Why don’t you just go back to your car before you get a ticket?”
He looks up and down the deserted street. “And what cab would that be?”
“I can call for one.”
“You could. Or you could just stop acting stupid and come back to my fucking car so I can drive you home.” He rolls his eyes.
“I’ll brave the rain.” Turning my back on him, I resume walking. Today sucks and I really don’t want to deal with it anymore. Or him.
He catches back up. “I’m not letting you walk home alone or risk some skeevy cab driver looking like that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Babe. White dress? Pouring rain? You might as well be topless.” He gives me a very appraising look. “I approve of going braless by the way. Good choice.”
“Oh my God!” All that time I was admiring how his clothes stuck to him, it somehow didn’t occur to me that I was putting on as much of a show. I cross my arms over my chest and hiss at him, “You could’ve said something.”
“Sure I could’ve. But then I wouldn’t see your gorgeous tits anymore.”
There’s so much heat rushing to my face that I’m surprised the water doesn’t steam off. “See, this is why I don’t want to get in the car with you. Because you’re an asshole.”
“Oh, come on. You like it. At least a little bit.” He smirks. “You weren’t faking that kiss.”
God, just the memory of it makes me tingle. “Totally fake. Faker than Tofurkey on Thanksgiving. Couldn’t you tell?”
He laughs at that. “That bad, huh?” We’re walking past an old brick wall, and he suddenly grabs my upper arms and swings me around, pressing me up against it. “I’ll show you fake.”
Declan threads his fingers through my dripping hair and tugs, forcing me to look up at him. For a moment the rain spatters my face and then he’s there, his full lips pressing against mine while his free hand slides along my side.
Time stands still. I freeze against him, my hands flat on his chest, but not pushing. Not really. Not enough to stop him while he plunders my mouth.
I respond. I can’t help it. He presses against me, pinning me to the wall and warming me with his body from head to toe. I’m still pissed, but all that energy has to go somewhere, and right now it’s pouring into him through this desperate kiss.
Compared to this, our other kiss did feel fake. The burning passion I feel right now is something I haven’t felt in... well, in four months. Not since I almost let a near-stranger fuck me outside the door to my apartment. Our tongues dance, chasing each other around while we struggle to eliminate any space between our eager bodies.
My hands slide up to grip his hair and pull him to me. He groans into my mouth, and I can feel his cock growing against my stomach as his hand inches up my side until it strokes my breast. He cups me, his thumb flicking across my nipple, making me gasp into his mouth.
We’re out of control. I hook my leg around his thigh, and he grinds against my core until I know that if he doesn’t stop, I’m going to come right here on the street. My fingers clutch his hair, and I try weakly to tear him away, but it’s too little, too late.
Declan’s hand slips into the front of my dress and he kneads my breast, tugging on my nipple. His mouth breaks away from mine, and he leans down to whisper in my ear, “Come for me.”
My legs are shaking. I’d slide down the wall if he wasn’t holding me up.
I want it. I don’t want it.
And then his teeth close around my earlobe, his fingers twist the tight nub of my nipple, and he thrusts his hips, sliding the length of his erection right across my clit. I press my mouth against his shoulder, biting down to stop from crying out as my release washes over me.
Slowly I come to my senses. It takes a lot of effort to push him away, but he lets me go, watching me with an arched eyebrow and a cocky smirk. I take a step back, not trusting myself to stay close.
“We can’t keep doing this. It’s a mistake. Our parents are getting married in a couple of weeks. We work together at your dad’s office.” I don’t know if I’m trying to convince him, or myself, but saying it out loud helps me push back the reality of what just happened. “Jesus, I don’t even think I like you.”
He crosses his arms over his massive chest, his tattoos rippling. “You like what I can do to you. Isn’t that enough?” With a lunge he gets right up in my face again. “Don’t pretend that you would’ve said no if I ripped off your underwear and fucked you right here in the pouring rain. Don’t make this any more complicated than it is.”
His words are a much needed slap in the face.
“You know you and Michael are exactly the same, right?” I take another step back. The furious look on his face is intimidating even if I know he won’t hurt me.
“Don’t even put that little shit into the same sentence with me. We’re nothing alike.”
“Yeah, you are. Two sides of the same macho asshole coin. He pretends he wants a smart, successful wife and the whole white picket fence thing, but he can’t stop sticking his dick in whatever bimbo comes his way. But you? You pretend you don’t give a shit about anything when anyone with eyes can see you’re so hungry for more that it’s eating you up inside.”
“Then you need to get your eyes checked,” he snarls.
“I need to get my head checked is more like it. This is it, I’m done with whatever this is.” Headlights appear down the street, and it seems like something is finally going my way since there’s a glowing taxi sign on the roof. I wave my hand frantically, flagging it down. “Here’s my ride.”
He looks like he wants to say something, but he doesn’t stop me. Instead he peels off his shirt.
I roll my eyes at him. “Very impressive, but I’ve seen it, and it’s not going to convince me to stay.”
“It’s for you, you idiot. You still look like you’re going topless. At least take this to cover up.” He throws it at me as the cab pulls up.
I hold it for a few moments before grudgingly putting it on. I’d rather not have to spend the whole cab ride trying to cover my breasts. “Thanks. I’ll give it back tomorrow.” Slipping it on is a reminder of how big he is. It was tight on him, but on me I could put on a belt and wear it for a dress.
It’s still warm from being against his skin, and I hate that I notice.
“Don’t worry about it. I don’t mind knowing you have it, imagining you cuddling up with it at night, smelling me, wishing I was there with you—”
“You’ll have it back tomorrow. Smelling like bleach.”
With a grin he opens up the door for me and I slip in, sliding wetly on the leather seat. Sticking his head into the cab, he catches the cabbie’s eye. “I’ve got your number. She gets home safe, or I’ll come and find you. Got it?” He looks scary as hell, shirtless, drenched and looking like he wants a fight. Well, another one.
“Y—Yeah, sure. Of course.” Apparently the cabbie finds him scary too. “I wasn’t planning anything, man.”
“That’s right.” Declan turns to me, his face softening, but only barely. “I’ll see you at work. We have a lot to do this week.”
“Yeah, yeah. My life will be a living hell, blah blah blah. Just close the damn door.” I glare at him, but I’m not sure he’s convinced. He closes the door, anyway.
The cabbie takes my address and against my better judgment, I look behind me as we pull out. Declan stands there and watches as we drive away, his thumbs stuck into his pockets, the water running off his bare torso.
The image burns into my mind. If I’d gotten into his car tonight we’d have had sex. I want to think that I’d have resisted, but he was right when he’d told me he could�
��ve taken things all the way when we kissed against the wall. I wouldn’t have stopped him.
When he’s involved, I can’t seem to tell up from down, let alone right from wrong.
Not professionally, and not personally.
Declan
“What were you thinking?” Dad growls at me, hunched behind his desk like a fucking gargoyle. Or a mob boss. His eyes are pure ice, his thick brows knit in a deep frown. It’s been a while since I’ve seen him this pissed.
“He threw the first punch. What was I supposed to do?” This is ridiculous. What fucking business is it of his?
I can’t believe Claire said something, but I’m more annoyed at getting dragged into Dad’s office like I’m twelve and brought home a crappy report card. At twenty-seven we should be past this sort of thing. Sometimes I think he wants me working here just to be able to police my life for as long as possible.
“What were you doing there in the first place?” He pushes his chair back so he can stand and pace back and forth like a tiger getting ready to pounce.
“It sounded like a good party. I heard the punch was delicious. How could I stay away?” Rolling my eyes, I make as if to leave. I don’t have time for this shit.
“Don’t you fucking turn your back on me, Declan,” he thunders behind me. He must be pissed as hell if he’s swearing. I can count the number of times I’ve heard that on one hand. “I’m sick and tired of your shit. The fights. The parties. The embarrassment, over and over. When are you going to fucking grow up?”
I throw my hands out. “I’m me, and what you see is what you fucking get. Don’t act like you didn’t know that when you hired me. I’m damn good at what I do, but I’ll never be a good little boy scout.”
“Don’t I know it.” He sinks back into his chair and sighs. “Declan. You’re a brilliant lawyer when you want to be. You’re smart, you’re aggressive and you can do the work when your mind’s on it. But every time you do something crazy like this, you’re one step closer to no one taking you seriously. And so long as you’re working here, not taking Riordan & Flynn seriously.”
“Just spit it out. Are you firing me?”
He sighs again. “Cooper complained, you know. I’ve had to bend over backwards, promising that threats like that will never, and I mean never, happen again. And that we’re giving him a discount. I don’t like him any more than you do, but really? Threatening to break his face?”
“Did he mention what he said about Claire? Right in front of her? I’ll win his fucking case, but he can show at least a little bit of goddamn respect.” I stare into my father’s eyes, refusing to back down about what happened with Cooper. “She’s your employee, and about to be your stepdaughter, remember? Or,—I’m sorry—did I miss the meeting about how it’s okay to crack blowjob jokes about the women who work here?”
Dad has the decency to wince. “I didn’t write you up, did I? I know how much you hate the idea of this wedding, so I appreciate you taking an interest in Claire, but there’s been some talk and I need to ask. Is there something going on between you two?” He arches an eyebrow at me.
“Oh yeah, a lot of really hot and heavy... overtime. She’s my new stepsister, and I’m treating her as such.” My fists clench involuntarily, and I force myself to relax them. He doesn’t know anything, and even if he did, we’re grown adults and we can handle our own fucked up shit.
“That’s not what I hear. I hope it isn’t necessary to remind you that I’m getting married in a couple of weeks and this isn’t a girl you can toss aside and forget about.”
“No, Dad. I know that all too fucking well.” If I didn’t forget her in four months of no contact, I’m sure as hell not going to forget her now. Life would be easier if I could. “Don’t expect me to be over to give you and Annette a housewarming present though.”
“She’s not that bad, you know. Annette, I mean. You could at least give her a chance.” His voice is unusually gentle. “We’re getting married either way. As much as you frustrate me, you’re my son. I want you to be happy for us. Hell, I want you to be happy, but you’re not making it easy on yourself.”
Right. “I know I don’t live there anymore, but excuse me if I’m being a little sensitive about some woman coming into Mom’s house and taking over like she already owns the place.” My words sound whiney even to me, but he just doesn’t seem to get it. “Don’t you care about Mom at all? Letting Annette just piss all over her memory?”
“Jesus Christ, son. It’s not like that at all. You don’t think I miss your mother?” He shakes his head at me sadly. “Caitlyn was the love of my life. It killed me to watch her go like that. Watching her waste away was... If I could’ve taken her place, I would’ve. Maybe you would have been happier if I had.” His gaze captures mine, and this time it’s my turn to wince. “But it doesn’t work that way. She’s gone, and there’s nothing—nothing—I can do to bring her back. I never thought I’d meet someone new, but life goes on. Annette’s a wonderful woman if you’ll just talk to her. Get to know her. Is it so hard to be happy for me?”
I look away from his beseeching gaze. There’s a tightness in my eyes I don’t want him to see. That’s for me and me alone. If he’s looking for my blessing so he can stop feeling guilty, he’s going to have a long wait. “So, am I fired, or can I go back to my desk now?”
Dad draws a deep breath and releases it slowly. “You’re not fired. But we can’t keep doing this. Got it? Any more fights, any more scuffles with clients, anything, and you’re out of here. I’ll hate losing you, but I’ve got a business to run. You’ll always be my son, but I can’t guarantee that you’ll always be my employee. Do you understand me?”
I run my tongue along the inside of my teeth, forcing back a smartass reply. Sometimes even I have a little willpower. “Yeah. Loud and clear.” Forcing a calm I’m not feeling, I leave the room quietly and close the door behind me.
It takes several moments before the tightness in my chest eases up. When I’m composed, I stride back to my office.
Claire should be in by now, and as much as I’d love to take my frustration out on her, fucking her angrily against the glass wall of her office or making her day a brand new type of living hell are probably both on Dad’s list of unprofessional behaviors.
And anyway, one of those is probably a bad idea. I’m just not sure which one yet.
Claire
“Do you see this?” I spread the pages out on Declan’s desk, pointing at each highlight as I list off offenses. “Look. Cooper’s not even paying his required insurances. Unemployment. Disability. Worker’s comp. No wonder everyone gets fired. If they were laid off, the authorities would wise up.” I look right into his eyes not caring that this isn’t good for our case. Some things are too important to ignore. “There’s stuff here that they haven’t even put in the lawsuit.”
“And they won’t,” Declan snaps. For a moment, his office is silent while he looks over the documents before handing them back to me. He sighs. “I agree. The guy’s a creep, but we’re not working for the plaintiffs.” He leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head. “We’re here to defend him, not string him higher.”
I stamp my foot in frustration. “How can you even say that? Don’t you see what he’s doing? And we’re just going to let him get away with it?” God, he’s so frustrating. We should be joining the other side, not fighting them.
He shrugs. “Imagine a system where people just take everyone else’s word that something is true. Like it or not, even scumbags deserve a defense. There are rules to be followed to make sure judgments are based on facts, not emotions.”
I try again. “How about this then? These records show thousands of overtime hours logged in the last year. I don’t even know why he’s hanging onto these records, but the payroll documents show that he’s paid thirteen of them. Thirteen. Think about that for a second.” I throw the pile of documents onto his desk, where they land with a thump. “This guy should be behind bars.”
“And I’m saying it’s not our fucking problem. He’s paying us to do a job. If we don’t do it, we’re the ones who get fucked instead.” Declan is holding his pen like a twig that’s about to snap but I can’t stop pushing.
“He’s ruining people’s lives, and all you can say is that it’s not our fucking problem?” God, I want to punch him right in that arrogant face of his. I’m biased. I know that. But anyone who’s got even a tiny shred of decency should see how big of a deal this is, right? “Are you even human?”
Declan glares at me. “I get it, Claire. It’s horrible. He’s a fucking dirtbag. No arguments here, but some of us aren’t done after three months.” He stands, slamming his hands onto his desk so hard I jump. “You skip off back to school, while I’ve got my job to worry about.”
His job? Seriously? “You say that like your dad doesn’t own the whole company. Do you seriously think he’d fire you?”
He laughs, a short, humorless bark. “In a fucking heartbeat, babe. And everyone out there?” Declan waves his hands towards the door. “How do you think their bills get paid? Would you like to decide who gets to stay and who gets to go because business slows down as word gets out that we’re loose cannons in the courtroom?”
Defeated, I sit. I know what he’s saying makes sense from his point of view, but all I can see is how horrible this case is. All those white collar office workers out there would be treated fairly and probably find new jobs easily, but I don’t really know that. Could I look someone in the eye and tell them their paycheck wasn’t important enough?
No, probably not.
A vision of Dad flits before my eyes, just a brief moment where I see his face, his sunken eyes, his expression defeated. I know exactly when that moment was. Only a couple of weeks before he jumped, just before I invited him home. I’d smelled the booze on his breath. He’d gone home with me that night, but all he could talk about was how he didn’t want to mess up our lives like he’d messed up his. He’d looked a wreck.
