Page 23 of Falling for Roxanne

“I’ll be fine.”

“I know you’re strong. But even the strongest people need help sometimes. Don’t forget that.”

“Thank you for being here when I needed help,” I said.

“You weren’t going to scream, were you?” he said, his jaw tight and his mouth grim.

“Probably not. The music’s loud and if anybody even came to see what was wrong, they’d just think we were on a date and got drunk and obnoxious. They wouldn’t take it seriously. He’s a creep but it’s the kind of thing that happens all the time.” I shrugged.

“It shouldn’t,” he said. I nodded. “You sure you’re okay?”

I nodded again and slid away from him.

“I’ll see you on Monday,” I said, and went back to join Cathy.

“You were gone a long time. Was there a line? Nachos give you the runs?” she said.

“No. But you just proved my point.”

“What?”

“That you’re the best but you have no filter,” I said.

“That’s me, sister,” she said, raising her glass to me. I clinked mine to hers and we drank a toast.

I was still breathing hard from being so close to Hamilton, from his hand on my face and the intensity of his eyes on me. He would’ve torn that guy apart.

The wave of heat that swept through me when I thought of it, of his touch and his concern, made my toes curl in my shoes. I licked my lips again at the memory. He was so delicious, so big and strong and beefy. When he’d backed me up against the wall, his height and the width of his shoulders had basically blocked out the light from the bar. I had been enveloped in his shadow, nothing visible to me besides his body.

I had liked my world being reduced to the shape and size of Hamilton Bell, the scent of his cologne that was like leather and spices, and the hot smooth skin I could see in the open buttons at his collar. I wanted to put my mouth there and kiss the triangle of tanned flesh I had seen, to taste the salt of his skin and maybe make him shudder under my kiss the way his touch on my cheek had made me tremble. I had been shaking in his hands, not from fear or adrenaline. From pure arousal.

Even my icy drink seemed to make me hotter. I was aware of every inch of my skin, of the dampness between my breasts and behind my knees from being so hot and bothered. The telltale wetness between my legs was slippery. I tried shutting my eyes and counting backward from a hundred, but nothing helped. I was so overwhelmed that there was nothing for it. I was so turned on I was going to have to take the coldest shower in history when I got home.

“I think I’m ready to head home. I promise, no studying. I just want to take a shower and crash,” I told Cathy.

“Okay. I may call Rob and see if he wants to come over. If you’re sure you’re not staying up.”

“I’m sure. Go for it. Tell him I said welcome to the family. He might as well get used to me walking around with crazy hair, grazing at the fridge,” I said lightly.

All I wanted was Hamilton. But I’d settle for the lock on my bedroom door and the vibrator in the drawer beside my bed.

CHAPTER 13

HAMILTON

We were making headway on the case. All of the discovery orders were filed except for the potential deposition by Pansy Lestrade. Her testimony would be pivotal. We could win without it, but with a witness from the original trial confirming that she perjured herself—that would be conclusive. We could get the verdict overturned and clear the defendant’s record. He’d have his life back. If Roxanne could pull this off.

As for myself, I’d been frustrated ever since Saturday night when I encountered my intern being harassed in the bathroom corridor of the bar. I wasn’t a violent man. I was ruled by reason, logic, fairness. All of that flew out the window when I saw that creep putting his hands on Roxanne. I didn’t want to think about what I wanted to do to him. Some primal instinct was awakened in me at that moment, and I’d even referred to her as mine when I warned her assailant to get away from her. She had felt like she was mine then.

That had been a shock to my system, and so had the way my body reacted to her, to the scent of vanilla and lemon on her skin, some kind of body lotion that I wanted to lick off of her and lay her bare. I had gone from seeing red over the man grabbing her to an even more primitive hunger for her body and mine to join. I hadn’t wanted to make love to her then. I had wanted to fuck her and rub my scent all over her skin, bury my cock in her sweet, hot body and pour into her. The urge had been so fierce and pure that I had been shaking myself when I dropped my hand from the curve of her face and stepped away. It had been a huge act of will to wrench myself away from Roxanne.

The flames of desire had licked through my body to the point that I couldn’t concentrate on conversation with Rick and Aaron. They kept giving me hell for being distracted until I went home to get some sleep. With my body on fire for her, the urge to claim her so strong I broke out in a sweat; there was no way I’d go right to sleep. I tried to do some work, but I couldn’t focus. I’d had to stumble into the shower and take my swollen cock in my hand. I’d been jerking off more since I met Roxanne than I had in years. I was on edge, irritable, as every instinct screamed for me to reach for her.

I knew what was appropriate and ethical and I wasn’t looking to cross any lines. Even now I was sitting at my desk, looking over the preliminary information on my newest client. I knew that Roxanne was at the table in the conference room, her makeshift office, preparing to talk to Pansy Lestrade on the phone. I could have gone in there and helped her formulate questions and figure it out. But there was a chance, just the slightest chance, that I’d lose my mind if I was in the same room with her.

Sydney had taken a sick day, her first one in ages. She’d caught a stomach virus from watching her niece’s kids over the weekend. Devon was nowhere to be found—working remotely, he had said with a pitiful and possibly fake cough. I was alone in the deserted office with Roxanne. I had to put doors and walls between us. I wasn’t afraid of what I might do, but I wasn’t sure I could hold on to my sanity and carry on a professional conversation.

When she came in to say good morning, I had picked up my cell and pretended to be on a call. I waved a hand and nodded, and she had ducked out to go do some work. I had faked a phone call to avoid talking to her. If she had sat down in my office to chat, or worse, perched on the edge of my desk, I would’ve had to put my head between my knees and take deep breaths.

---