Page 63 of King of Justice

How long did we stay like this? It didn’t matter. Because when I finally heard her whisper, it was the most beautiful thing that ever happened to me.

“I want you, Nathan. I want to be with you.”

She smelled of amber and white floral... again. I didn’t want to think, but I had to. If I could choose, I only truly wanted to feel her with me, on me, and all around me. Picking her up in my arms with ease, I felt her lips pressed against mine, hands around my neck, erasing all traces of doubt.

“I want you,” she repeated.

My words echoed into her mouth, “I want you, Sophie.”

“I’m yours,” she feverishly murmured.

Drunk on the sound of her soft little whimpers, I tried to remember what my next meeting was about or who it was with.

She wanted me, and I wanted her.

A low growl escaped my lips as they found hers once more, tasting the very essence of her in the back of my mouth. My skin blazed underneath her fingertips and I knew we needed to stop. I was never caught in my office and I wasn’t supposed to start now.

The phone started to ring, and while Sophie remained in my arms, I pulled my lips away and whispered, “You’re making me lose my mind, Jones.”

There was nothing sweeter than that laugh dancing in her eyes.

Epilogue

Better

Sophie

*

“We are now starting our descent into Aéroport de Cannes-Mandelieu. Please fasten your seatbelts,” Nathan’s jet pilot said through the microphone.

Still in disbelief that we were about to touch down in Cannes, I turned to my gorgeous boyfriend. “Do all famous actors invite their lawyers to film festivals?”

“Only when their girlfriends are talented writers with a novel that can easily be turned into a screenplay.”

“Shut up.” I drew it out, rolling my eyes. “I’d never embarrass you like that.”

“Embarrass me?”

“I’m not one of those women who make their men jump through hoops—”

“I don’t think you understand. I’ve already sent in the story,” he said with a nod, looking me straight in the eyes. “Sophie… someone’s interested in turning it into a screenplay, and this festival is the perfect place to discuss it.”

Pressing my ten fingers on my lips, I murmured underneath, “Oh my God! You’re shitting me!”

“I’m not shitting you.” Smiling, he slowly shook his head and reached for my hand. “And please don’t say stuff like that in front of Terry de Ravine.”

“Terry de Ravine! You’re shitting me!”

“Again, I’m so not.”

I couldn’t believe it. Terry de Ravine was the biggest producer supporting emerging filmmakers. His company funded over ten films every year, discovering new talent. Through his connections, he gave them great exposure opportunities through touring film festivals and screening in the most vital spaces.

What Nathan was giving me was a gift for which I could never repay him.

Feeling lightheaded, I floated through the next few hours and the party in the evening with the aid of my smile and Nathan’s hand in mine.

On our way back to the hotel—in the luxurious limo the festival had arranged for us—I turned to Nathan and gave him a grateful smile. “I can’t believe you’ve planned this whole thing for me. I’m… I’m speechless.”

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