Page 40 of When You Give a Lawyer a Kiss

I’d like to tell her she’s wrong and convince her to admit what just happened between us meant something to her. But she’s already nervous, and I can’t risk losing her because of my selfish desires.

“I have to get back to work,” she says abruptly.

“Woah, hold on.” I take her by the hand. “We haven’t talked about why you’re working here.”

What I’d like to do is demand she quit and haul her ass out of here. However, she’d probably leave the firm and work here full-time just to spite me.

“That’s not your problem,” she retorts.

I bring her fingers up to my lips. “I hate to break it to you, Red, but the taste of you on my tongue makes it my problem.”

I don’t miss the catch in her breath. “Can we talk about this later? I really do have to get back.”

I run my hand through my hair, willing myself not to overreact. I’m used to getting my way, but Reese has a way of turning my plans upside at every turn.

“Fine, but this isn’t over,” I state.

She pauses near the door. “Goodbye, Dawson.” she says softly before leaving the office.

With anyone else, I would have been content with what just happened. Now that I know what it feels like to have Reese wrapped in my arms—to make her come—I’m already plotting ways to make it happen again.

Before today, she’s been quick to rush out of a room after one of our interactions. Which leaves me with a glimmer of hope that things between us are moving forward—toward what?

I don’t know. But I’m willing to take the risk for Reese.

The moment Dawson and I shared at the club still lives rent-free in my mind a week later. It wasthehottest sexual experience I’ve had thus far. I didn’t care that a thin glass wall was the only thing that separated us from hundreds of people. I was done for the second Dawson called me hisgood girl.

I don’t have a rational explanation for my impulsive behavior, but Dawson brings out a side of me that I didn’t know existed. When I’m with him I feel bold and free to speak my mind without fear of judgment. We’re straddling a fine line, pushing our professional boundaries and truth be told, I’ve never felt more alive.

What happened at the club was like lighting a matchstick in a tinderbox, setting a blazing inferno to the delicate balance of control I’ve been holding on to.

Seeing him there sent a course of jealousy through my veins. The idea of him cozying up to another woman and flirting or having a meaningful conversation bothers me.

It doesn’t help that part of me has wanted to kiss him again since the night at the tattoo shop, and once his mouth was on mine again, I couldn’t find it in me to stop him from going further. Images of him gazing at me with those bright blue eyes as he traces my jawline torment me. His scent lingers on the dress I wore that night—a reminder that it happened.

It’s another late night at the office, and I should be responding to emails, but I’ve been staring at my computer for the past half hour. Today has dragged from all the tedious tasks Rob has asked me to do.

The elevator’s chime catches my attention, and the same courier from the first night Dawson had food delivered comes down the hall.

Dawson exits his office with his hands in his pockets, watching the guy like a hawk.

The courier is careful not to glance my way when he hands Dawson the bag.

“Good to see you’re on time tonight,” Dawson says, passing him a hundred-dollar tip.

“Thank you, sir,” the courier says, pocketing the cash as he walks back to the elevator.

Dawson may be abrasive, but he recognizes and rewards those who deliver results.

“You still avoiding me?” Dawson asks as he passes by my desk.

I shift in my chair, glancing at the ground. “I’m not avoiding you,” I whisper.

He leans his hip against my desk, a little smirk playing on his lips. “Sure you aren’t.”

Okay, maybe I have tried to keep my distance. It’s been easier than expected, given that he’s been spending more of his time at Wes Irving’s office than at the firm over the past week.

However, true to his word, my calendar remains blocked out every day from 12–2 for me to study in his private conference room. When I arrive, there’s always a gourmet meal and a bottle of water waiting for me. Having a quiet space to prepare for the LSAT is such a relief. His kind gestures are another reason why I’m drawn to him.

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