Page 11 of Endgame
The fact that he’s got nineteen years on me and is unattainable makes me want him even more.
But when his piercing gray eyes catch mine, my fluttering heart twists. It feels like it almost crumbles.
Because he isn’t looking at me. He’s glowering.
He’s angrier than I’ve ever seen him. With me?
No, he can’t be.
He doesn’t know me. I haven’t done anything to get this kind of reaction out of him.
Mom and Dad must’ve done something to get under his skin more than usual.
Probably called him on their way to the hospital, talked his ear off, begged him to pull strings on my behalf.
That’s got to be it.
“Miss Clarke.” His bass voice rumbles through the room, snuffing out every whisper. “When you’re ready.”
Larry clears his throat, about to say something. Probably a comment about how we’re here and yes, we’re ready.
“As in, this second.” Everett’s eyebrows lower, his jaw clenching as he dismisses my lawyer before he can get a word in.
His order is as sharp and painful as a whip. My attorney and I are quick to stand and take our places behind the defendant’s table.
As we lower ourselves into our seats, something about Everett’s posture gives off adon’t get too comfortablevibe.
I don’t know what to make of it. What to make of him.
What I do know is that I’m attracted to him.
Despite myself, his scorn does the opposite of scaring me.
My thighs squeeze together. Heat rushes through my body. The strange fluttering in my belly is totally inappropriate for this situation.
Except I can’t tear my eyes off the black robe and the way it drapes over his broad shoulders.
I never thought that would happen. My hatred of authority has been festering for as long as I can remember. I’ve spent my entire life being bossed around by my adoptive parents. I’ve resented every second of it.
Everett, though… I want him to boss me around, just so I could fight him. Just so he could win and bend me to his will.
Bend me over, period.
I’ve never done that for anyone else. For him, I would.
He clears his throat, sharp and deliberate, dragging my attention to him like a hook under my skin.
His expression shifts too. Less furious, more primal and personal. There’s disgust in it, yes, but beneath it…something deeper.
Something that makes me shiver.
And he’s quiet.
Deadly quiet.
“Judge Alder.” Larry is all smiles. His leather briefcase is right there on the table, untouched. He’s confident it’s an open-and-shut case, and well, so am I. “If it pleases the court, my client would like to?—”
“That won’t be necessary.”
