“You gotta get booked,” I whispered, sliding her farther still, until there wasn’t an inch between us. “And bent.”
She trembled, laughing breathlessly in my ear. “Washington …”
“Come with me,” I murmured, guiding her toward the judge’s chamber, heat roiling between us. “Before Low Fade Loretta files a claim on that ass first.”
Her laugh was warm, flustered, and sinful. “Lock the door and protectall of this.”
In my chambers, I damn near barricaded the door. Not because of any prying eyes. She wasn’t leaving looking this good.
I planted her on my desk and pressed my lips to hers, kissing her for all those times I hadn’t in the past few years. The way her tongue moved against mine melted the stress off me. I stripped the robe to the floor.
Her hands fisted my shirt, and her kiss stole the sanity I had left. My arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her against me. I needed more. More of the taste of her.
I lifted her up and walked her backward until her shoulders touched the wall.
My framed diplomas and licenses rattled, then crashed to the ground. Okay, maybe I body-slammed Madison by accident.
“My bad,” I murmured, already spinning her gently so her palms met the wall. Her back arched, and her breath came warm and quick. “Lemme kiss away the pain.”
She looked over her shoulder at me, eyes narrowed, lips parted, looking like the prettiest woman at a police stop gone wrong. “Wait …”
I froze, my lips trailing over her shoulder, mid-kiss, mid-worship, mid-what I thought was everything and meant everything.
“Who’ve you been kissing, Washington?”
My laughter dropped so low it almost hit the broken frame on the floor. “You,bébé. Come on.”
I slid my hands up her hips, hiking her dress. When she spoke, her voice was full of playful suspicion. “I had to check. Boy, you’re kissing me so good I got jealous.”
I pressed my body against her back, feeling her soften and melt all at once. “You’re crazy, Maddy.”
She laughed, more tender than with her usual jokes, deeper than the fire burning between us. Love met lust when her eyeslanded on me again, humor blending with the ache we’d carried since Shonda.
“I’m crazy,” she whispered, “but I’m yours. And I was thinking with you behind me.” She lifted her shoulder and then leaned into the kiss I planted on her nape, my hands already at work at the silk of her thong. “Maybe nothing happened, Washington. I didn’t see it. Nothing happened.”
I blinked.
“You’d better not let this reach Shonda.” Her smile turned wicked. “Because if she asks, we chatted feelings in here. That’s all I saw.”
She turned her face enough for our mouths to meet. After I kissed her, she murmured against my mouth, “And if Shonda asks why I’m glowing next Tuesday?”
I unzipped my pants. “I’ma tell her we made emotional progress.”
Her laugh broke. And when I pressed myself to her again in a way only she’d ever known, no therapy contract could stop this.
madison
. . .
Maybe I shouldn’t compare the fantasy-turned reality with Washington in his chambers to a police check gone right, but honestly? The shoe fit, and Momma packed her spiky stilettos in anticipation of more.
First, he had backed me into the wall so hard my spine threatened to file charges. Then he spun me around, lifted my hands, and planted them against the wall. My body hummed, eager for theMirandarights.
Did Mad Madison mind?
No, ma’am.
But I was sticking to my claim. Nothing had happened yesterday evening.
