Page 50 of When You Give a Lawyer a Kiss

“Damn you’re sexy when you’re bossy.”

With one deep thrust, he pushes into the hilt. I gasp, relishing every glorious inch of him as he begins moving in earnest.

I wind my hands into his hair and tug him closer, molding my mouth to his. He grasps my jaw in his hand in response, deepening our kiss. Time seems to stand still as we’re wrapped in our private haven where there are no expectations, requirements, or worries. Just two people driven by an unspoken longing, finally giving in to the blissful escape from reality.

“You’re taking me so well, Reese,” he rasps. “I can feel you clenching around my cock.”

I can only whimper in reply, digging my heels into the mattress. He brushes his tongue against my lips before slipping it inside my mouth. I moan loudly as he picks up his pace, shifting the angle of his cock, pressing against my G-spot, and I gasp at the new sensation.

“I’m so close,” I murmur.

I whine with disappointment when he slows his movements, pushing into me in short, shallow strokes, and I don’t miss his smug smile as I squirm against him, desperate for release.

“What are you doing?” I protest.

“Savoring the moment, angel.”

Our eyes lock, and I’m immersed in the feel of his sweat-slicked skin pressed against mine. His uneven breaths grazes my cheek, and the sensation of him pulsing inside me causes goosebumps to dance across my skin.

“Show me how you touch yourself, Red,” Dawson murmurs.

My eyes remain on him as I reach between my legs, strumming my clit as his thrusts grow faster. When Dawson whispers, “Be my good girl and come all over my cock,” my impending orgasm crashes over me.

I unravel beneath him, his roar of triumph filling the room as he finishes alongside me. He gently strokes my hair as we come down from our heightened pleasure.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Never been better,” I assure him with a sated smile.

“Why don’t we take a shower, and then I’ll grab us something to eat.”

“That sounds nice,” I say drowsily. “I’m starving.”

He scoops me into his arms, and I rest my cheek against his chest as he carries me to the bathroom. I haven’t felt this content in a long time, and I wish this night would never end.

I wake to the faint scent of leather and sandalwood.

The first rays of sunlight filter through the window, signaling morning has arrived. I stifle a groan as I stretch—my entire body deliciously sore.

Dawson and I had sex in the shower last night—twice. He wrapped me in a plush towel and carried me to the bedroom, which led to him fucking me from behind on his already tousledsheets. His hand gripped firmly in my hair and my head arched back to face him as he drove into me, leaving imprints of his teeth on my neck and shoulder.

When we both finally collapsed from exhaustion, he drew me to his side and I fell asleep wrapped in his arms. One night with Dawson and I’m afraid I’m hooked. He makes me feel cherished in a way I never thought possible, and I find myself wanting to stay wrapped in his embrace forever.

As much as I wish that were a possibility, this magical moment will eventually come to an end, and we’ll have to face reality.

For now, I set aside my nagging thoughts and concentrate on the present. As I roll over to greet Dawson, I’m caught off guard when I find his side of the mattress empty.

I scramble out of bed, clutching the sheet around me like a makeshift robe. After checking the bathroom and closet I go downstairs, each step echoing my mounting anxiety. A wave of disappointment washes over me when I get to the kitchen to find he’s not there either.

Now that I think about it, he did agree tojust one night. Maybe he’s hoping I’ll see myself out so he can avoid an uncomfortable morning-after conversation.

“Looking for me?” I spin around when I hear his deep timbre.

He’s dressed in jeans, a white T-shirt, and a black biker jacket. It’s the first time I’ve seen him out of his usual business attire, and he looks incredibly enticing.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He sets a carafe of coffee and a brown paper bag onto the kitchen island. Striding over to me, he cups my face in his hands and presses a heated kiss to my lips. “Sorry I wasn’t here when you woke up. I realized my fridge was empty and wanted to make sure you had breakfast.” He pulls out a barstool at the kitchen island for me. “Take a seat and we’ll eat.”

My heart races at his kind gesture. “Thank you.”

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