Page 26 of Falling for Roxanne

“You’re right. I know that. I’ll just—go back to my office and get to work,” I said, more uncomfortable than I’d ever been in my adult life.

With carefully casual steps, trying to appear calm, I left his office, closed the door, and went into the staff restroom. I washed my face, wiped off my smeared makeup with a bunch of paper towels. Pressing a hand to my stomach, I gave my reflection a quiet pep talk.

You can do this. It was a mistake, and it hurts that he said it, but there you are. You’ve got to pull yourself together and do your work. A man’s freedom depends on the work you’re doing, and you have to be sure that you ask Pansy Lestrade for every relevant detail when you talk to her. No daydreams and no whining. You can cry in the bathtub at home tonight, and drink way too much wine. But you’re going to walk out of here and act like nothing is wrong. You will smile and be useful and calm and cheerful. You will pretend this never happened.

Maybe if I told myself that every hour on the hour for the next year or so I’d start to believe it, I thought grimly. Then I went back to my office and stared, unseeing, at the papers spread out in front of me until it was time to leave.

CHAPTER 15

HAMILTON

It had been a long week. Seven days since Roxanne had burst into my office to announce she’d gotten the key witness in Daniel’s original trial to admit that she perjured herself and why. Seven days since I’d laid Roxanne out on the top of my mahogany desk and slid inside her tight, sweet body. I could close my eyes and feel it still, her pussy clenching on me like a fist, her hips lifting to meet my thrusts, the rhythm that built between us as the tension rose and tightened to the breaking point. My tongue in her mouth, the way she said my name, all of it had me tied up in knots seven days since I’d last touched her.

I woke up from dreams of her, dreams where I walked into the conference room and locked the door, and she came to me, relief on her face as said she’d been waiting for me to come to my senses. Dreams where she cried and stormed around my office saying I ruined her life, that I should have known better and that she was dropping my class because she couldn’t stand to be in the same room with me. That she wouldn’t graduate this semester because of what I’d done. There was nothing I could say to make it right, nothing I could do. I couldn’t pass her if she stopped attending class and doing the work, and no other sections of the course were being taught until next year.

I had dreams where she cried and begged me to say I was wrong, that I couldn’t turn my back on her and how I felt about her. Times when Roxanne would make passionate arguments like she was defending a case in court, but her object wasn’t a verdict, it was my heart. In other dreams, I told her patiently, rationally why we couldn’t be together. I could lose my job at the university and face sanctions from the State Bar Association for fraternizing with an intern at my law firm. My professional life would be impacted and hers would be essentially destroyed.

She would be treated like she had traded sexual favors for grades, for the prestigious internship placement. Her credibility and degree would be called into question as a result of our involvement. There was too much at stake. My job. Her reputation. The impact it could have on my son if I lost my means of supporting him. I couldn’t stand that, for him to be hurt by a poor choice of mine.

Anguished, I would wake up from every dream, sweating and full of self-recrimination and vowing that I’d never touch Roxanne Park again. Then I’d drift back off into a troubled sleep, only to find myself plunged into a dream where her long legs were wrapped around me as she held on tight to my shoulders and I buried my hard cock deep in her wet heat, my mouth on hers, her full breasts flattened against my chest as I braced her against the wall or the door.

Her warm breath damp on my neck as she panted, tumbling into her pleasure as she fluttered around my eager shaft, my palm fitting into the small of her back as she arched against me, her whole body tense and writhing, then molten and clinging, her soft lips open for me to slip my tongue in her mouth as I burrowed deeper into her wet sex. I’d be shaking, hard and ashamed when I woke from dreams like that, the ones that happened every night.

I was driven to distraction over what we’d done, and the relentless temptation to have her again and again. I couldn’t. I knew it was wrong. That didn’t change how I felt, how I longed for her with a burning, constant urgency.

Even though I hadn’t said a word to anyone, Syd had noticed how irritable I’d been at work. Claiming I was under a lot of stress with the appeal hadn’t done much to allay her suspicions. When Devon interrupted a phone call I was on to ask me a question he should’ve known the answer to, I nearly blew up at him.

“I couldn’t ask Syd, she’s at lunch, and the intern isn’t here,” he had whined.

“The intern has a name. I’d suggest calling her Ms. Park, since she’s doing half your workload and you seem to think she’d know the answers to your questions. A bit of respect wouldn’t be misplaced,” I had said, my tone testy and warning.

“I just want to know where I’m supposed to put this file when I’m done,” he insisted. I took a breath and put my call on hold and managed not to suggest that he stick the file up his ass, since he’d been working here long enough to know where the file cabinets were kept.

I cleared my throat and kept my tone calm with effort. “The archive, Devon. File it by case number. The drawers are labeled. It’s the room at the end of the hall that’s full of filing cabinets where we keep the hard copies of our case files once they're completed, remember?”

“Oh, yeah, I just didn’t know if you wanted to look at it before I filed it.”

“No. I’m finished with the case. I was pleased with the outcome. I don’t want the completed file on my desk, thanks,” I said as evenly as I could.

“All right then. I’ll go to the archive, I guess. Unless you want me to put it on Syd’s desk so she can put it away when she’s back from lunch?”

“No, I think you can go put it away yourself. There’s no reason for her to have to do it,” I said firmly. “The case number is typed on the folder label,” I added, exasperation creeping into my voice. I have a call to finish, so if you’ll excuse me,” I said pointedly.

Devon didn’t even have the sense to look embarrassed that he’d interrupted me with a truly dumb question.

Roxanne had been avoiding me like the plague. She sequestered herself in the conference room, really only spoke to Syd, and when I emailed her a question about the upcoming deposition, she responded with, “k” which I took as a dismissal.

I messaged Aaron, What does it mean when a woman answers your text with K?

He replied, it means fuck off. Then he used a laughing emoji I could’ve lived without.

That’s what I thought, I sighed, she acknowledged she got the message but didn’t want to communicate with me beyond what was necessary for the internship. I pinched the bridge of my nose, feeling the beginnings of a headache.

The answer was obvious. Leave her alone and make it a really fun evening for my son. So when five o’clock rolled around, I shut down my computer and grabbed my keys.

I picked up Colin at my sister’s house, thanked her for getting him from school when she picked up her own kids, and gave her the large Diet Coke I’d picked up for her.

“You’re early, Daddy!” Colin said. “I was the alien robot and I got to get Tyler and make him go ‘aaauggghhhh!’ and fall down like he was dead, but he wasn’t dead, we were playing,” he babbled excitedly. “Then Josie was scared because she’s only little and Tyler was screaming too much. So Aunt J made us sit down and color but it was only Paw Patrol pages and not robots or dragons or anything good. I told her I will bring her some good color stuff from my house.”

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