“Let’s say you have a client you know is guilty, but you’re skilled enough to get them off.” I cleared my throat, cursing myself for phrasing every conversation I had with him in such a sexual nature. “Are you able to close your eyes at night? You know, sleep eight hours and wake up the next morning like nothing happened?”
He crossed his hands over the table. “Are accountants able to sleep at night, knowing their clients are embezzling money that’s not reported to the IRS? Or how about a cardiothoracic surgeon who performs open heart surgery on a patient who will return home post-surgery and eat a stick of butter with dinner, washing it all down with a pint of ice cream?”
His fingers formed a triangular peak, drawing my attention to them. Their length, thinness. How masculine they looked with a slight dusting of hair on the backs of his hands.
Hands that I could picture running across every inch of my body.
Oh man.
“We can’t control what our clients do or what they admit to or withhold from us,” he said. “Our job is to get them a fair trial and win their case.” His thumb grazed the length of several of his fingers. Back and forth. Baaack and fooorth. “We can’t let their crimes—or lack of—affect us personally, nor should it change who we are as humans.” He glanced around the table, addressing all of us. “This isn’t a job for the weak. For the person who’s going to rush into the restroom and throw up when the court breaks for lunch. You’re either made for this job or it’s going to break you.” His eyes returned to me, causing my breath to hitch in my throat. “Remember, your reputation is everything. You’ll be hired because of your ability to win. If you can’t win, you’re going to be paid what you’re worth. And that’s absolutely nothing.”
The pressure.
I had been feeling it long before this meetup.
Now, it was intensifying.
Could I shut off my personal feelings when it came to these cases?
Did I have the skills to give my clients a fair shot?
Because I wasn’t far from being in that position. I was graduating at the end of the semester, followed by a couple of months of studying, and then I would be practicing law, assuming I passed the bar.
It was so much to process.
I downed the rest of my drink, chewing the olives at the bottom.
I needed more food.
And more vodka.
With Declan speaking to one of the other students, I returned to the bar and waited until I could order, “An extra dirty martini, please,” from the bartender. “With double blue cheese olives.”
“Exactly the way I would order it.”
Declan’s voice made my back straighten until I was no longer slouched over the bar top.
I hadn’t realized he’d left the table.
Or that he was behind me.
But I should have. The second he was in close vicinity, the air seemed to change.
It thickened.
It turned hotter.
I glanced over my shoulder. “Would you like one?”
“Yes.”
“Make that two, please,” I said to the bartender.
Before I could reach into my pocket to grab my credit card, he was already handing his to the bartender.
I put my hand up. “No, no. Please let me pay. It’s the least I can do for everything you’ve done for us today.”
“You’re not paying for my drink, Hannah.” His stare deepened. “You’re not paying for yours either.”
He leaned his stomach against the edge of the bar, the closeness sending me his cologne. I hadn’t noticed it before. Maybe I had just been too absorbed by his handsomeness, obsessed with this perfect man the previous two times he was near me, that I missed that detail. But a richness was now filling my nose, one that was heavy, but not overpowering, with a hint of spice.
A scent that had a bite … just like him.
With my breathing untamed, almost panting, I replied, “Declan, I don’t mind paying.”
His arms rested on top of the bar, his back hunched so we were eye-level. “Listen, I was in your shoes once. When you’re in mine, you can buy me a drink.” His stare dipped to my mouth. “So, remember this moment.”
“It’ll be impossible to forget.”
That was the truth even though I wished I hadn’t said it.
“I like that.” He finally glanced up again, our eyes locking. “Tell me something, Hannah. Why do you want to be a litigator?”
I checked on the bartender, hoping she was almost finished with our drinks.
She wasn’t.
“I—”
“Because no reasonable, calm, collected person wants to fight for a living,” he said, interrupting me. “There are many other types of law that don’t require you to be so argumentative, but to be a litigator”—he exhaled, a rush of excitement filling his eyes—“now, that takes a set of balls. I want to know where your balls came from.”
I laughed.
This was an easy answer.
“I grew up in a family of boys. A twin brother. Cousins who were all older than me. I hung out with them every day of my childhood. Since I was the only girl, they never wanted to listen to me. They treated me like the runt of the litter. To make them hear me, I had to be better than them. I had to fight and claw and outsmart them.” I pulled my hair to one side as a layer of sweat moved across my skin. “I couldn’t run faster, I couldn’t throw farther, but I could take any of them down with my words.”
“You learned how to win.”
“Exactly.” My laughter faded to a smile as I recalled some of the specific times I’d left those boys in a cloud of verbal dust. “My youth prepared me for this job in every possible way, so there’s never been a question about what kind of law I want to practice.”
“Sounds like you not only enjoy winning, but you also crave it.” His voice turned gritty when he emphasized the second-to-last word.
Was that true?
Did I have that competitiveness inside me?
When I had been younger, I’d felt such satisfaction because that was one less thing they could tease me about.
But now?
I tried to envision representing one of my cousins’ clients in court—something none of them could do, as they weren’t litigators—and this vicious pulse began to pump through me.
“Yes,” I responded. “I suppose I do crave it.”
“I can see it.” He reached for our second round of drinks, handing me one and taking the other. “You’re in the right field, Hannah.”
As my fingers surrounded the glass, they briefly grazed his.
That was all it took to set my skin on fire. Just that small, subtle embrace, and every nerve ending was lit, throbbing, crying out in shock waves.“Thank you,” I whispered.He signed the credit card receipt and tucked his card away. “Tell me something else, Hannah …”As he paused, I tried to remind myself that this was the time to ask him questions, to pick his brain, to find out the secrets of our trade—an opportunity that probably wouldn’t present itself again.But I couldn’t.I was completely locked up.Speechless.Drowning in a pool of Declan.“When you walk into a courtroom, what’s going to be your secret weapon?” He watched as I licked my lips, and it felt as erotic as stripping off my clothes. “I’ve told you mine. I want to know yours.”“My secret weapon,” I repeated.“You know, not only can I read people, but I also use my reputation to my advantage. I don’t give any motherfucker a chance. I find what it’ll take to make them bleed out, and that’s where I cut them.”I knew tha
And, two, he really could see right through me, his expression telling me so.“I see a woman who’s trying to argue against her body. You don’t want me to have this effect on you, but I do. You’re shivering. I can feel it.” His hand moved around to my arm, his finger running up and down the back of my bicep. “Your pulse is hammering away; your heart’s pounding. You have to really focus on everything I’m saying because you find yourself getting lost in my words.”When he leaned into my ear this time, I was sure I felt his lips against my lobe.“You’re dying to know what my mouth tastes like. If my cock fits my body type—large, thick … manly.” I tried to fill my lungs as he added, “It does.”“Declan—”He shifted, so our eyes met. “What would tomorrow feel like, Hannah, after I spent the whole night with you? How satiated … how sore would you be?”I wasn’t thinking.Because he’d sucked every thought out of me.“Isn’t that what’s on your mind?”I couldn’t answer.I couldn’t even force the
“Do you take the courtroom home with you?” She glanced around the group, her voice lowering as she added, “I think we’re all in similar stages of our lives here, but I wonder what it’s like for you. When you return to your house and Mrs. Shaw is waiting in the kitchen, a plate of cookies on the counter, can you eat the cookies and chat about where you’re going to vacation the following weekend? Or do you spend the entire dinner recapping every moment of the day’s trial before doing it again over coffee the next morning?”Oh, Hannah …I see right through you.I had a reputation.Bachelor. Serial dater. Playboy.Whatever the fuck they called me.I liked to think of it as not being tied down.I was surprised Hannah didn’t know that about me.Or maybe she did, and she was just confirming.“When my driver takes me home every day, whether that be from the office or the courtroom, I leave work behind. Of course, there are evenings and weekends where I spend time doing paperwork or I take cal
“Yes.”Then, there was no reason to wait.I took a step closer, halting directly in front of her, our bodies only breaths apart. I placed my palm against the wall above her head, her body caged beneath me. “Do you want me to make you scream so loud that everyone in the bar can hear you?” I leaned my face into her ear. “Is that what you want from me?”She was quivering.Panting.When her teeth skimmed her lip this time, it was a slow, painful scrape. “I don’t want an audience”—she took several breaths—“but yes. Yes to all of it.”I gripped her face, aiming it up to mine.I didn’t kiss women.Lips were something I could easily get attached to.They were the most personal part of a woman’s body.They expressed emotions. They spoke the truth. They even tried to mask and hide the real feelings inside.I didn’t fuck with them.But as I gazed down at Hannah’s mouth, it was so goddamn beautiful. Those full, pouty lips, silently begging for mine.She was giving herself to me.And I’d accept ev
I pulled away, my mouth hovering above hers. “You’re never going to forget this.”“Why’s that?”“Because you’ve never been fucked by someone like me.”I pulled out my wallet, removing the condom I always kept inside, and stored it in my jacket pocket to make it more easily accessible.“You come prepared,” she voiced.When it came to sex, yes.I had plenty of friends who worked in family law.Not using a condom was a gamble I wasn’t willing to take.“Aren’t you thankful for that?” I hissed against her lips.“In this moment, yes.”I kissed her neck, her skin tasting like the cake I smelled.I felt her swallow.And then she sucked in a deep breath.“How badly do you want me, Hannah?”I needed her begging.I wanted her neediness echoing through me.She tried to wiggle a hand loose, like she was going to steer one of mine toward her pussy. “If you felt me, you would know.”I didn’t budge.“I intend to, but I want to hear you tell me first.”“Declan …” She rose onto her toes, nipping my bot
Why I wanted to taste her exhales.But I locked us together, inhaling each of her breaths, rotating our tongues.Hannah. Fuck.She thought I was doing something to her … but she was the one doing something to me.Her fingers dropped from my dick, and her arms circled my neck, pulling me closer. The moment our lips parted, her head leaned against the wall, my mouth falling to her throat, feeling the purr that thrummed inside.“I need to feel you come.”She wasn’t far.Every sign in her body told me that.I left her throat and leaned down farther to take her nipple into my mouth, biting the end, sucking it as though she were feeding me. With my palm pressed against her clit, I worked my finger in and out, tapping that spot deep inside her, adding a second finger when she began to tighten more.“Declan …” Her nails stabbed the back of my neck, her body becoming slack. It only took a few more seconds before her moans turned higher, her wetness thickening as it coated my fingers.“Fuck yes
I slid in some more, and she squeezed her arms around my neck, her breathing labored.She needed something else to focus on.I slowly moved the rest of the way in and aimed my cock upward. “You have all of me.” As she pulsed around me, I pressed the short, coarse hairs above my shaft directly onto her clit. “Do you feel that?”“I feel”—she swallowed—“everything.”I kept myself sealed to her, urging her to accept me, and it felt like she was tightening even more.“Tell me when you’re ready.”She stayed put, breathing into my face, her body as stiff as stone, holding me even though she wasn’t going anywhere in my arms. And then, out of nowhere, she began to lift herself up, gently gliding me in and out.Bouncing over my cock.“Declan,” she gasped after several plunges.“You’re fucking ready.”I didn’t hold back.I couldn’t. And when I felt like my hairs rubbing her clit weren’t doing a good enough job, I reached down and grazed it with my thumb.It was like I’d flipped a switch
HANNAHWhen a BFF 911 text came through from Oaklyn, it meant drop everything and call her. So, that was what I did the second I got out of the alley, rushing inside the bar.“Oaklyn, what’s wrong?” I asked the moment she answered.I really needed a drink, and as I waited for her to respond, I went over to the bartender and mouthed, Water.Declan had fucked everything out of me, including the saliva in my mouth.“Hannah, h-he broke u-up with me-e.”I gripped the edge of the wooden bar, my eyes closing, my head falling forward. “What? No. Nooo!”“He d-didn’t even h-have the decency to c-call me. H-he did it th-through text.”“That asshole. I’m going to kill him.”My heart ached for my best friend.She loved Trevor.Oh God, she loved him hard.I lifted my head, opening my eyes, already wincing as I asked, “What did his message say?”“You’re n-not going t-to believe it-t.”But I would.Six months ago, when they’d first started dating, every alarm went off in my gut, telling me that Trevo