Page 35 of The Lawyer
“Well, if you can, why are we having this conversation?”
“Because I felt it was pertinent to have it.”
“Why?”
“What do you mean, why?”
“We’re both grown-ups, Landon. Any fantasies, or desires, we might have can be controlled, yes?” Unlikely at the moment with the way she keeps coming back at me so succinctly. I'm about ready to bend her over something and teach her some manners. “And if you think I’d put my career and reputation at risk because of a fling, you’re very much mistaken.”
“A fling?”
“Yes. Were you thinking it was something else?”
“No, but—”
“Actually, what we did didn’t even count as a fling. More like a lesson in stress relief, at least for me. Not really that memorable at all.” She gets up, running her hands down her skirt to straighten it out in such a way that suggests anything but professional. “Thank you, by the way. For the … relief. You walked away before there was any time for pleasantries. Or anything more.” She chuckles and begins to turn, making me look directly at an arse I haven’t yet slapped.
“Are you suggesting I’m not capable of more?”
Her head swings back, eyes focused on mine. “You’re the one saying it won’t happen again. Or have I got that wrong?”
We stare, both of us knowing exactly what’s about to happen if I don’t, as she says, control my desires. It seems I don’t feel much like controlling them at all, as proved by me getting up and rounding my desk. “Lock the door.”
“Mr Broderick, I believe that would be a policy infringement.”
“Alright. You choose then. Lock it, or leave. The offer of investigating my capabilities won’t be on the table any longer than this room if you choose the latter.”
What was overconfidence, and possible impudence, quietens on her face as she takes in both options. Enough so that she seems to falter for a moment, her mouth open and wavering. “Playing with me usually spikes my interest rather than reverses it, Willow, as I’m sure you’ve worked out, which leads me to believe that you’re as interested in fucking as I am. Make a choice.”
“That's a rather forward statement.” Her voice is less sure now I’ve put the offer out there for her.
“I’ll be a damn sight more forward if you lock that door.”
She looks me over from the eight-foot gap between us, her tongue running over her lips. “What will you do?”
I chuckle and take a step closer, pulling the jacket from my shoulders to sling it on a chair. “My patience for conversation is running low, Willow. Lock it, or leave.”
Her feet begin backing up after a few more seconds thought, her hand reaching for the door. I still don’t know if she’s going to lock it or leave until I watch her fingers grab the lock and twist. My own hands go straight to my tie and yank it, neck stretching around.
“Just so we’re clear. This is fucking. Nothing else,” I mutter, looking at her legs. “Don’t, for one minute, think it can be anything other than that.”
She narrows her stare at me, her fingers going to the buttons on her jacket to pop them open. “You assume I’d want anything else.” Fine. That works for me.
I watch as she loses the jacket completely and tosses it at mine on the chair. “Oh look, our jackets are fucking before we are.”
Not for much longer.
“Take the skirt off.”
“No.”
I’m moving to her body before she has another chance to make any decisions at all, my hands pushing her so she’s against the very door she’s just locked. Fuck, she smells good, and the feel of her up against me brings all the memories back from the weekend.
Heavy perfume assaults my senses this close up, as does the feel of the skirt as I ruck it up over her arse. Add in her desperate mouth on mine, and then the feel of her hands grabbing at anything she can reach, and I’m rampant to quench this thirst.
My head drops down to her chest, one hand pushing her breast up until I can get a mouthful of it through the dark blue shirt. She groans at the weight of me on her, her head tipping back as I bite in a little.
“Jesus, Landon,” she says, grabbing hold of my shoulders and panting. “Get on with it.”
