by Brynne Asher
“Pretty sure I’ve only known you for a New York minute. I can talk to anyone I want to about cocks,” I counter. “You haven’t even kissed me.”
“But I’ve had my hands on you. You were wet for me earlier—don’t deny it. I had tangible evidence.”
I do everything I can to even my breathing because I knew it. I knew he felt how he affected me. I tip my head to the other side and lose my smile because I’m pretty sure I’m wet again. “Don’t be crass.”
He drops his arms and takes another step, closing the distance between us, thickening the air in this already musty environment. There’s no question—I know I’m wet and am forced to shift my weight.
He lowers his voice. “You’re the one talking about going after my cock right outta the gate.”
I keep my voice even, but I have to work for it. “How Texas of you, with the rodeo metaphors.”
“You started it with the New York metaphors.”
He’s close now. He’d barely have to reach with one of his long, strong arms to touch me, let alone seize me. Neither of us say a word and the only sound is the buzz from the ancient, rusted-out hanging light.
His tongue snakes out to wet his lower lip, making me drop my arms and flex my fingers.
His voice dips—gravelly and deep. “You ready?”
I mock him, but my voice wobbles, matching the state of my knees. “I dare you.”
A smirk starts to form on his lush lips and, just when I can’t think of anything but those lips on me—my neck, my breasts, between my legs where I’m already wet—he moves.
And no amount of self-defense training could prepare me for an onslaught by Elijah Pettit.
I yelp when my body defies gravity but it happens too fast for me to all-out scream. I’m up, off the ground, and my rose-gold Adidas running shoes search for leverage but come up empty. How he did it, I have no clue, but my arms are pinned, my legs thrown to his side where I can’t go for his cock if I had the mind to react. Before I know it, we’re both going down—Eli first with me on top, pinned to his wide chest—hitting the mat with a humph.
My heart speeds and I do everything I can to kick, find purchase on him or the floor for leverage, but before I can manage anything, he flips me to my back. My arms are pinned above my head and his big work boots might as well have tethered my ankles to the floor like chains. I barely have a chance to look up through the dark room when those work boots pull my feet apart and he presses that same cock I threatened earlier between my legs at the same moment his lips land on mine.
And here, in a warehouse that smells like a dirty men’s locker room, my world shifts.
The man I shouldn’t be with—the man who called me a bad situation—lays claim to me in a way I’ve never experienced.
When he presses his cock into my clit through my joggers, I gasp and he takes advantage. His tongue invades my mouth. Tasting Eli for the first time is something I’ll never forget. I press my lips to his, my head being the only part of my body I can move with his heavy bulk pressing me into the mat.
He squeezes my wrists as he drinks me up, consuming me like I’m his last meal and he couldn’t be happier about it. Transferring my hands into one of his, he supports himself on a forearm to cup my face, his thumb framing my jaw. When he grinds into me one more time, he slows his lips on mine enough for me to catch my breath.
He lifts his head just far enough that, when I open my eyes, I see nothing but him. His chest is moving heavy against mine with labored breaths, just as affected as me. Tipping his forehead to mine, he squeezes his eyes shut and surprises me by rolling, taking me with him.
With my hair in his face, he mutters, “Fuck.”
I breathe against his neck and let my body sink into his. “You surprised me.”
“You’re slow. We need to work on that.” After our first kiss, that wasn’t what I expected him to say. He pulls my head up and his eyes are heated. Wrapping me up in his arms and lifting his knees to the ceiling as he parts my legs, he presses up into me again.
My messy hair falls around our faces and I frown. “I didn’t think you’d really come at me.”
“I know.” He slides a hand to my ass, keeping the other angled up my back. “No one ever expects an attack. You need to work on your reflexes. That other guy doesn’t know what he’s doing. From now on, you’ll work with me.”
I draw my knees up and press down on his cock, liking the feel of him a whole hell of a lot. “There’s no reason to worry about Jase. He’s just my trainer. I was giving you shit earlier.”
Tangling his hand in my hair, making it messier than ever after our romp on the mat, he nods. “Good, but you’re still working with me from now on. Tomorrow you can free up Jase’s schedule.”
I tip my head and shake it. “I have more important things to do tomorrow, Eli.”
He knifes up at the waist, circling my legs around his hips. With his hand still in my hair, he holds me close and his features turn to a different kind of serious. One that has nothing to do with pinning me to the floor and kissing the hell out of me. “I’m working on that, too. I wish I could tell you what to expect tomorrow but, at this point, I have no clue. Some stuff happened while you were with your family—a lot that pisses me off. All I can say is if you don’t get a dismissal tomorrow, your shit will be caught up in court for a while. It’ll give your people time to do what they need to do and I can figure shit out on my end. But as of tomorrow morning, don’t sweat it if you don’t get a dismissal. It’ll come soon.”
I tense around his body and hold tight. “Tell me.”
He shakes his head and I believe him when he says, “I’m sorry.”
“You expect me to just trust you? You have to know everything about this goes against who I am—how I operate.”
His hand on my ass curls under me and pulls me down tighter on his hard cock and he leans in to kiss me, softer this time. When he lets me go, he brushes the end of my nose with his. “Baby, if you can trust me with your body, then do yourself a favor and trust me with your life. You won’t regret it.”
My heartbeat echoes in my ears—the rush of my blood creating a tsunami between my head and stupid heart. I’m not sure I can do what he wants.
He opens his mouth to say something more, convince me further, when his phone rings. His mouth clamps shut and his eyes go hard. From his reaction, that’s more than some random phone call. He knows who it is.
“I take it that’s an important ringtone?”
He shakes his head but his brows pinch. “It can wait.”
Well, then. It’s one thing for me to trust him with my body, but my life? He can’t ask me to do that, not when he’s holding back.
After his call goes to voicemail, I decide I’m done. “I need to go home. I’ve had a long weekend. I have an even longer week coming up with work and my brother’s wedding. Let me go.”
He doesn’t let me up. He pulls me in for one more kiss and I let him because he’s right. This man, I trust him with my body. It’s my heart I’m not so sure about yet.
Letting his kiss linger on my lips like an empty promise, his phone comes to life again, this time with a different tone. A notification.
When I push against him, he helps me up. I brush myself off from the dusty mat and he goes straight to his phone, making me think this tone is much more important than the call. I turn to him as his fingers are flying over his screen and he’s deep in concentration. I start for the door but he tags my hand on the way past. “Don’t do that, Jen.”
I sigh. “Do what?”
“You know what. Turn cold on me.”
I compromise every day in some shape or form. It might come in the form of negotiations, but it’s a compromise all the same. At this moment, I’ll do anything to get home and only tell him a half-lie. “I’m wound up about tomorrow and you have calls to take care of. Please take me home.”
He yanks on my hand and I find myself in his arms. “Promise me you’ll text me right after yo
ur hearing tomorrow. If I can manage a reason to be at the federal building, I want to be there. If I can’t swing it without throwing up any red flags, I want to know what happens right away.”
I press into his chest at the same time I harden my heart. “Okay.”
“Okay.” He presses his lips to my forehead. “Let me take you home.”
Chapter 12
Fucked, Legally and Literally
Eli
I slip into the back of the courtroom and take a seat next to Dean as if I didn’t have my hands and mouth on the woman in the spotlight less than twelve hours ago.
He barely gives me a glance. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m early for a meeting with the ATF two floors up on a case that’s linked to one of mine. Heard this was going on so I snuck in for the show.”
The case isn’t a lie but the meeting is.
Dean doesn’t blink at my presence. Bree, however, who’s sitting on the other side of him, should not play poker. My showing up is more than a surprise by the look in her beady eyes, probably because, if she’s been following the damn trackers she put on my vehicles, she thought I’d be at the office right now since that’s where they are—sitting right on her fucking desk for her to find later.
I decided last night I wasn’t going to pussy-foot around with my co-worker. I’m throwing it in her face that she can’t fuck with me. I’ve dealt with the scum of the earth—way worse than her. There’s no way I’m going to let some greedy backhanded agent—who I have no doubt is planting evidence to frame the woman I want in my bed—think that she’s got one up on me. She started this game and I’m more than willing to play.
She’ll go down and do it big. If she’s lucky enough to keep her job, she’ll be Giglioed for life—unreliable and useless to prosecutors since she’s lied on official documents. She’ll find herself at a desk, pushing papers or managing agent recruits—boring shit that would make my head explode.
Basically, she’ll blackball herself faster than a sorority girl plagiarizing her midterm.
Still, I give her a generic smile and a head-lift, which she doesn’t return and turns back to the show she’s puppeteering.
I shift my focus, too, but can’t take my eyes off the defendant. Today, she’s wearing a white, crisp shirt crisscrossed with thin black lines tucked into a skirt that fits her like a second skin. It starts high on her waist and ends at her knees and I’m interested to see how she sits in the damn thing without it bursting at the seams. Her long, rich hair lays in soft bends down her back as she stands next to her attorney with an army of others sitting behind her in the first row.
Even though I haven’t laid eyes on her shoes, I can only imagine them because, I’m right, they do amazing things to her legs and ass. I have to flex my hand—my fingers are itching to touch her, to test the seams on that skirt.
It’s why I came. I need to see her. Not only did I get alerts last night that Bree was on the move while Jen and I were at the warehouse, but I also got a call from Sarah. As much as it kills me to do it right now, I’ve got to leave town. I talked to my supervisor first thing this morning and I fly out late this afternoon. I wanted to put a trip off until next month, but the pressure is on.
I feel like I’m being pulled in a million fucking directions.
I need one more eyeful of Jensen Montgomery before I go.
“I’m sorry. With the new evidence provided by the Assistant U.S. Attorney, there’s no way I can justify a dismissal.”
“Your Honor, I object on the basis of circumstantial evidence. An investigator cannot dig through rubble that contains the trash from well over thirty households and claim it belongs to my client.”
“Your objection has been noted. All of them have, Counselor. We will meet back here in one month to set a date for trial.” The judge bangs his gavel and the rest of us stand.
After the judge exits, Dean turns to me. “I need coffee. Hate Monday morning hearings.”
“I don’t have time for coffee.” Bree pushes past him to leave. “Now that my case is still a go, I have work to do.”
“I think I might take in a run at lunch,” I say, before she leaves. “Any good trails around here? Maybe a lake?”
Bree turns back to us. “A lake?”
Dean, who doesn’t look like he’s run since the academy, frowns. “Why would you run at lunch?”
I shrug. “It’s nice out. I used to run by Lake Michigan. It’d be nice to have some scenery. Just trying to get some ideas since I’m new to town.”
“White Rock is the closest but, dude, you should just grab a sandwich.” Dean pulls keys out of his pocket and turns for the back of the courtroom. “I’ll be sitting in the Starbucks drive-thru in case anyone needs me.”
When Dean is out of ear-shot, I ask, “So, White Rock is a good place for a run?”
Bree averts her eyes from mine and digs through her messenger bag. “I wouldn’t know. I Zumba.”
“I bet you do,” I mumble and watch her scroll through her phone, no doubt checking the location of the trackers.
When she looks back up to me, she gives me a tight smile. “See you back at the office.”
My smile is genuine because when she gets to her desk she’s going to have quite the surprise. “Yeah, I’ll be back after my meeting.”
Bree hustles out of court with no clue as to what’s waiting for her. I can’t wait to see what she does next.
When I turn back, Jen’s face is pale as she tucks her hair behind her ear. Her lead attorney is leaned into her talking nonstop as she gathers her bag and slides her short trench coat up her shoulders. Now I see what keeps her skirt from bursting into a pile of threads when she moves—the deep slit up the front of one thigh, showing me a hint of her leg. Half of her legal team moves out in front of her. The rest trail behind. An army surround her, but not enough yet to ward off the shit Bree Newman has drummed up, not to mention whoever else started this shit by trying to frame her from within her own company.
Her eyes meet mine but jump away just as quick, not letting anyone onto the fact she gives two shits about me.
Waiting a beat for some more people to file out, I follow and she’s waiting for the elevator, standing there, tapping the heel of her expensive shoe. I turn the other way and duck into the stairwell. Pulling out my cell, I text her.
Me: You okay?
It takes a few minutes, because I’m sure she’s still getting to her car. After what seems too long, she finally responds.
Jen: What do you think? You know what happened, you were there.
Me: It’s going to work out. I promise.
Jen: Yeah, you keep saying that.
Me: Look, I’m working on it, but I have to leave town for a few days.
She doesn’t answer but I see bubbles before they disappear. I wait in the stairwell. I don’t need to run into Bree or Dean in the parking lot.
Finally, she hits me back.
Jen: Minivacation?
Me: What’s a vacation?
Jen: Touché. Where are you going?
Me: Chicago. There are things I need to see to. I’ll try to be back Friday.
Jen: Don’t hurry back on my account.
Me: You’re the only reason I’d hurry back.
Me: And maybe the Tex-Mex.
Jen: I see where I rank. Maybe I’ll see you next week, then. I’ll be busy with my brother’s wedding all weekend.
Me: Damn.
Jen: I’m almost at the office and have a meeting with my ever-growing legal team.
Me: I hate leaving you. Especially now. Keep this phone close.
Jen: Enjoy Chicago.
Me: Trust me. I won’t.
*****
Jen
Lehmans just packed up and left with an enormous list of shit to do on my behalf. I’ve been told about four million times not to worry. I’ve also been told not to speak to anyone outside of my attorneys about my legal troubles.
I can’t imagine what Patrick w
ould say if he knew I allowed a certain special agent from the opposing team to dry-hump me on a dirty gym mat last night, let alone speak to him.
And now my secret man is leaving town. And, of course, he didn’t tell me why. And I told him I’d see him next week instead of screaming at him to stay far, far away from me like any woman in my circumstance with half a brain would do.
I’m pretty sure I’m working with full mental capacity and I still told him to have a good trip instead of demanding to know why he’s leaving, what his secretive phone calls were about that put him on edge, or even ask what he had to take care of. I think deep down, I knew he wouldn’t tell me and I didn’t want to be put in the position to be denied again, so I avoided the topic like a dirty STD.
I might as well wrap myself up in a human-sized condom, avoid all outside threats, and let the bulletproof latex do its job.
If only.
With my luck, my favorite Gucci heels would put a hole in it. Those shoes were a splurge, even for me and I’d end up getting fucked anyway.
I’m well on my way to getting fucked one way or another as it is—legally and literally.
Patrick breaks into my thoughts. “I’ve known you a long time, Jenny. You Montgomerys always persevere. You haven’t been yourself since this started. I get it. But you need to let us handle things and keep doing your job.”
I tip my head and sort of glare at him. “Am I not doing my job?”
He waves me off and leans back in his chair. “Don’t put words in my mouth. You know what I mean. Little did I know that when you and my Kate were causing havoc in middle school, you’d be running this company one day. You’ll be at the top sooner than you think and those of us that matter know you can handle it. Once we get past this, your mama is hell-bent on pulling Kipp Montgomery out of the boardroom. Especially after her heart attack. It opened their eyes. None of us know what tomorrow’s gonna bring. We need to get this shit wrapped up, let you have your turn at the top, and we can all get back to business.”
I sigh. “Now that everyone is gone, have you heard anything from the private investigator? I want to know who framed me. I plan on firing them myself right before I watch them led out of here in cuffs. I can’t stop looking over my shoulder at every turn.”
