Instead, I cover her hand with my own and urge her fingers to grip me harder as I push my hips forward to create more friction. If her hand feels this good, I can’t imagine what her mouth would feel like.
“I can’t believe you’d even have any doubt I was attracted to you,” I tell her gruffly.
She laughs, deep and husky, and no doubt she feels me swell even larger in her hand. “I never doubted it. I just wanted an excuse to see what you were packing down below.”
Pressing up on her tiptoes, she leans toward me and nips my chin with her teeth. Then she’s pulling away from me, those sweet fingers letting my dick go, and I almost grab her back to me.
“Well, this has been enlightening,” she says as she turns away and walks toward the door. When she gets to it, she turns to me as an afterthought. “And thank you for the stockings. They’re lovely.”
“And might I be seeing them on you sometime?” I ask as I reach down and adjust myself.
Her eyes follow my hand and she smirks. “Now that would just be a bit unethical, don’t you think?”
“You just had your hand on my dick,” I point out courteously. “I think we crossed that line already.”
Shooting me a grin, she doesn’t respond but turns back toward the door.
“Wait,” I call out, and she turns once again, an amused look on her face. “Let me take you out to dinner tonight.”
“Can’t,” she says simply. “I have plans.”
“A date?”
“Possibly,” she says with an impish grin. “But not really any of your business.”
In three long strides, I’m across my office floor and my hand is circling the front of her neck. I grip her hard enough to get her attention and reel her in closer to me. I can tell she’s been enjoying our banter, and I can also tell she enjoys when my alpha tendencies take over, as evidenced by the way her eyes flare hot.
Leaning in, I place my lips along her jaw, skim them lightly to her ear. “It’s irrelevant to me if you have a date tonight. I’m only interested if when you go to bed, you’ll be thinking of your date or my cock. Maybe you’ll call me tomorrow and tell me.”
I release my hold on Leary, relishing the uncertainty in her eyes. If she expected me to get jealous over a potential date, she can put that right out of her beautiful head. It’s not that I don’t have the power to get jealous, it’s that I don’t like being goaded into it.
Confident I’ve had the last word and this conversation is ending with me having the upper hand, I turn from Leary and head back toward my desk.
“Is there anything else we need to discuss about this case?” I ask as I grasp the back of my chair and swivel it around to me.
I’m met with silence, and when I look back toward the door, she’s gone.
Pulling out my phone, I send a quick text to my buddy Ford. Heading out early. Want to get a beer?
We met last year playing in a rugby league together and since then have become pretty tight. He works at Knight & Payne as well . . . is a partner, actually, so maybe I can get some personal scoop on the beautiful Miss Leary Michaels. Their firm is gigantic, so he might not even know her all that well, but I figure it doesn’t hurt to ask. Maybe he’ll help me get a better grip on what I’m dealing with.
I drain the rest of my beer, pushing the empty glass toward the edge of the bar just as I see Ford walk into Carter’s, a local hangout just across the street from the courthouse, where most of the litigation attorneys hang out.
After stopping for handshakes, back slaps, and one woman who caresses Ford’s chest when he leans over to kiss her cheek, he finally makes his way over to me. After he’s perched on the stool next to me, he waves at the bartender and points to my glass, then holds up two fingers, effectively ordering the next round.
“So what’s up, man?” he asks casually. “I think sign-ups for the rugby league are starting next week. You in?”
“Definitely in,” I tell him. “Nothing like getting your ass pounded into the ground to make you appreciate the day job, right?”
Ford laughs and reaches for the beer the bartender just set down in front of us.
“Put it on my tab,” I tell the bartender, who nods and saunters off.
“Working on any good cases?” I ask Ford as I snag a few peanuts from the bowl before me.
“Same old shit, different day,” he says unenthusiastically. I’ve noticed a certain lack of excitement over his career lately, and I wonder if he’s getting burned out. He’s been practicing for fifteen years, and litigation is a tough business. The stress factor is extremely high.
“What about you?” he asks.
“Actually, I wanted to get some scoop from you on one of your associate attorneys. I have a case against her, and she’s been a little difficult to deal with so far.”
“I don’t know all the associates, but I’ll try,” he says, grabbing some peanuts for himself.
“Her name is Leary Michaels. It’s a medical malpractice case we have together that we just started.”
“Fuck,” Ford groans and then leans forward to bang his head lightly against the wooden bar. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”
“What?” When Ford sits back up straight, he pins me with a death glare.
“You’re defending the LaPietra case?” he practically snarls.
“Yeah,” I say with some hesitation. “And I’m sensing this pisses you off for some reason, but fuck if I know why.”
Leaning toward me, he growls, “Maybe because you had your hand up Leary’s skirt at the courthouse the other day.”
I rear back, completely astounded that Ford knows this.
And then it immediately stands to reason in my mind that he knows this because Leary told him.
This naturally leads me to conclude that they are very close, otherwise she would never have casually mentioned something like that.
“Are you fucking her?” I grit out, completely annoyed over the surge of jealousy that just flowed through me.
Ford is now the one who rears back from me, surprise in his eyes. “No, I’m not fucking her. What kind of question is that?”
His voice sounds firm and confident in his denial, but there’s something in his eyes that seems a bit secretive. I ignore his question, instead pushing him on his relationship with Leary. “What exactly is your relationship, then? Why would she ever tell you what happened at the courthouse?”
“Because we’re friends,” Ford says defensively. “Very good friends. I was her supervising attorney when she first started at the firm, and she’s a partner, by the way, not an associate attorney.”
“She’s a partner?” I ask, astounded. “She can’t be more than twenty-eight.”
“She’s twenty-nine, and she earned it. She’s got a hundred percent win record, which I don’t have to tell you is almost impossible to achieve.”
I whistle through my teeth, considering that and feeling for the first time in my legal career perhaps a bit intimidated. Not only is Leary the most confident and sexiest woman I’ve ever met but she uses her confidence and sex appeal like a weapon, which coupled with her apparent legal prowess means I need to bring my A game to this war.
“Look, man,” Ford says, sounding a bit more conciliatory, “not cool what you did.”
I snort and then take a sip of beer. I give Ford the stink eye. “She started it.”
“Seriously?” he asks with his jaw dropping. “You’re going with ‘she started it’?”
“Well, she did, and let me tell you . . . she has some metaphorical balls forged of steel and lined with platinum. I’m assuming she told you what she did to me in the elevator?”