Page 2 of Stalked By the Lawyer

"Stunning" would be too tame a word to capture the essence of Jill as she stands there, a testament to living art. There's an allure that goes beyond the visual, something elemental that speaks to the core of who I am.

I finally clear my throat and speak to her again. "Your father mentioned your interest in corporate law," I begin, threading common ground into the fabric of our interaction. "It's a ruthless arena."

"Ruthless, but intellectually stimulating," she counters, her lips curving into a smile that promises intrigue. "Don't you think?"

"Absolutely," I concede, the words smooth as silk across my tongue. "A chess game where the stakes are real. And every move is critical."

"Then you appreciate strategy," Jill muses, tilting her head slightly, her red hair catching the light like flames licking at the edges of my restraint.

"Strategy, and the occasional surprise maneuver." I let my gaze drop momentarily to her lips, then back up to meet her eyes, a silent acknowledgment of the game we're now playing.

"Surprises can be... exhilarating," she whispers, leaning in just enough for me to catch the hint of her perfume, a scent that beckons me closer to danger's edge.

"Like finding an unexpected ally in a battlefield," I say, mirroring her lean, closing the space between us. Our conversation feels like a dance, one where every step is measured, every turn anticipated yet thrilling.

"Or an adversary worthy of one's respect," she adds, those emerald eyes sparkling with the challenge she presents.

"Respect," I echo, feeling the weight of the word, knowing it carries far more than its surface meaning between us.

"Perhaps even... admiration?" Her eyebrow arches, a silent dare woven into her casual inquiry.

"Admiration," I acknowledge, "and fascination. It's a potent combination."

"Potent enough to be dangerous," she says softly, a truth wrapped in velvet.

"Only if one isn't prepared to handle it." I reach out, my fingers brushing against hers in a fleeting caress masquerading as an accidental touch.

"Are you?" The question hangs in the air, laced with the promise of secrets yet to be shared.

"Am I ever," I reply, the corner of my mouth lifting in a half-smile that speaks volumes.

Our connection simmers, a fusion of intellect and raw desire, each word exchanged another layer peeled back in the intricate dance of discovery. With every glance, every subtle gesture, the draw between us pulls tighter, a magnetic force neither willing nor able to resist.

Brimming beams at us. “Jill’s only nineteen,” he informs me, “but she’s already well on her way to being accepted to the most prestigious law school in the nation. Isn’t that right, honey?”

She smiles graciously and shrugs.

The clock chimes, a somber reminder that it’s high time I get out of her. However, as I stand to take my leave, every fiber of my being resists the motion. "I should get going," I say, voice low, each syllable laced with reluctance.

"Of course," Brimming replies, but I don’t even spare him another glance. I’m too busy watching his daughter as she rises gracefully from her seat, the light casting shadows across her features that only enhance her allure.

I turn toward the door, but not before my gaze lingers on her one last time. The way she stands there, amid the opulence of her surroundings, yet outshining it all with the sheer force of her presence—it sears itself into my memory. Her fiery hair frames her face, a wild and untamed halo, and her eyes, luminous and penetrating, hold me captive without even trying.

"Logan," she breathes out, and I swear a drop of precum shoots out of my tip and stains the insides of my trousers.

"Jill." Her name is a caress on my lips, a whisper of longing. For a moment, we stand locked in a silent exchange, words unnecessary when our eyes are speaking volumes.

“Mr. Brimming,” I nod to her father sharply before I pivot on my heel. With each step away from her, an inferno of desire rages within me, threatening to consume any semblance of restraint I have left.

Outside, the night air bites at my skin, a stark contrast to the warmth I'm leaving behind. I descend the steps of her father's mansion, each footfall heavy with the weight of unspoken promises and smoldering intent.

As I slip into the driver's seat of my car, I can't shake the image of Jill from my mind's eye. In the rearview mirror, I catch the reflection of her house, lights ablaze, a beacon in the darkness, much like she is in my world—dazzling and dangerous.

The engine roars to life, a growl that mirrors the storm brewing inside me. My hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles turning white, as I fight the urge to rush back inside, consequences be damned.

The road blurs, a streak of inky black beneath the glow of a crescent moon. Each mile I put between myself and Jill's father's house tightens the knot of desire coiled in my gut. My hands grip the steering wheel, knuckles white, as if holding on to the last vestiges of self-control.

I can't shake her image—the way her hair shimmered like a halo of flames, the laughter that seemed to dance in her eyes just for me. It clings to the edge of my mind, a ghostly presence that refuses to fade into the night.

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