Page 58 of Legal Attraction
She didn’t want to crash but she did want him to lose control. Hell, she just wanted him. It didn’t matter how much sex they had; she was always hungry for more and the pleasure only he was able to give her.
“You’re a good driver,” she said.
He chuckled. “You’ve never ridden with me before.”
No. Despite the amount of time they’d spent together the past couple of weeks, they hadn’t done much but sex. They hadn’t gone out to dinner. They always ordered in. They hadn’t seen a show or a concert. Their only entertainment had been each other.
Since she’d been hiding out from all the reporters hounding her, she had been fine with keeping things private between them. But the press wasn’t bothering her nearly as much as they had.
Now they could go out in public. But instead of heading toward the city, Ronan pulled his vehicle off into a small wooded area. The two-track road he’d found might once have led somewhere, but nobody had traveled it in a while. Weeds had nearly overgrown it. He didn’t drive very far, though, just far enough that the car wouldn’t be seen from the street. Then he put the car into Park and shut off the ignition.
Muriel knew why he’d stopped—what he wanted. She wanted it, too. So she pushed her other concerns aside and focused only on the overwhelming attraction between them.
He pushed back his seat and lifted her across the console, and now there was nothing between them. But he settled her onto his lap so that she was staring out the windshield, too. The woods were getting dark, and the glass just reflected back their images—like that mirror in the dressing room.
And like with that mirror in the dressing room, they watched each other, watched every flicker of pleasure and sigh of desire through parted lips. She wore a dress today, one so short that it had already ridden up around her waist. Ronan pushed her panties aside to slide his fingers inside her. Then he moved his other hand farther up beneath her dress and pushed up her strapless bra to free her breasts. While he played with the nipple of one breast, he slid his fingers in and out of her. Soon Muriel was panting for air, and the windows fogged up. She couldn’t see herself anymore. She couldn’t see Ronan.
She could only feel him as he lowered his fly, sheathed himself and slid it inside her. He lifted her so that she could slide down on top of him. He filled her completely, perfectly.
The tension inside her spiraled up, then broke, and she shuddered as she came. He tensed and writhed beneath her, losing control until he came, too, and shouted her name. Limp with release, Muriel sagged against the steering wheel and the horn blew.
Ronan cursed and pulled her back. “Damn, someone might see us.”
Moments ago her control had snapped. Now her temper did. “And why would that be so terrible?” she asked. “Are you afraid of being seen with me?”
“What are you talking about?” he asked.
Muriel straightened her clothes and scrambled back into the passenger seat. “I’m talking about how you never take me anywhere, how we’re never out in public.” And as the words reverberated inside the steamed up car, Muriel winced, recognizing that she sounded like a nagging wife.
“You haven’t been really happy with the publicity I already got for you,” he said. “So I hardly thought you’d want to be seen with me.”
And she winced again because he had a valid point. The press had just begun to die down. If she was seen in public with her ex’s divorce lawyer, she would stir up the scandal all over again.
Then he continued, “It’s not as if we’re dating, anyway.”
And she felt as if he’d punched her. “What are we doing?” she asked. But the question was more for her than him.
He knew what he was doing—what he was always doing—just screwing around...
She didn’t screw around; she fell in love. And once again she’d picked the wrong man to fall in love with. At least Ronan hadn’t conned her. He’d been honest from the start that he wasn’t the forever kind of guy.
For a man who knew what he was doing, he didn’t give her an answer—just opened and closed his mouth as if he couldn’t find the words.
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“You’re sorry?”
She nodded. “I shouldn’t have asked you to drive me home—now you have no place to escape.”
His brow furrowed with confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“How you always take off and run the minute we’re done having sex,” she explained. “You can’t do that now. Unless you toss me out of the car and have me walk to the city.”
“I wouldn’t do that,” he said. But he started up the car and backed quickly onto the street. He began to drive so fast that it was clear he couldn’t wait to escape.
“I shouldn’t have brought you to meet my grandparents,” she said. “I guess I was hoping you’d see that they have something special, that not every marriage is like your parents’.”
“Most of them are,” he insisted. “How can you forget I’m a divorce lawyer?”
