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‘You’re sure you want this?’
Her expression is droll. ‘You seriously need to ask?’
She pushes my pants down, taking my boxer shorts with them, so that I am naked before her. As she drives my clothes down my legs, she crouches lower and I groan at the sight of her in the mirror. So sexy at my feet.
‘I’m serious.’ The words come out weighted by lust. ‘This would be a disaster for you if anyone found out.’
She lifts her eyes to my face, staring up the length of my body.
‘No one’s going to find out. And don’t think I didn’t notice you didn’t answer my question before.’
I step out of my pants and hold my hands down for her to grab. She does so, standing, her body cleaved to mine in a way that makes me impatient to possess her.
‘What question?’
‘Who is she?’ She kisses my shoulder, her tongue teasing me in circles before she moves around to my back and begins to trace her mouth over my flesh, while her fingers curve around my chest, heating me with their gentle enquiries. Her eyes meet mine in the mirror.
The sight of us burns into my mind.
She’s so small, I feel an instinctive urge to protect her. To be gentle with her. But I know she doesn’t want that. I know she feels the same aggressive, savage need to be with me as I do with her.
This is what we both want.
‘Who?’
‘The woman in the red dress.’
‘Oh.’ Did I not answer? I can’t remember. I’d been so distracted by Olivia and what lay ahead for us. ‘Someone I went to university with.’ I am dismissive. I have no interest in Cynthia.
‘Someone you’ve slept with?’
Her question catches me by surprise, but then, I suppose her curiosity is only natural. She’s weighing me up. Assessing how many women I’ve dragged into deserted corridors, perhaps?
She steps back from me and I spin around, my eyes pinning her to the spot. She swallows, such a gentle movement of her throat and yet I see it on a cellular level. Her every gesture is like a drop in the pond that turns into a tsunami by the time it reaches me.
I was conscious of it the first day I met her. I’m used to high-stress situations. I’m used to standing in packed courtrooms, giving interviews to the media, speaking with Supreme Court justices as though we are equals.
And it was Olivia Amorelli, all five and a smidgen feet of her, that made me feel strangely aware of myself. It was Olivia, sitting there with her eyes as round as plates and tumbling blonde hair, her sweet pink lips and diligent note-taking, that made every pulse point in my body shoot into overdrive.
She’s doing it again now.
‘Would that bother you?’
I reach for her, jerking her to my body. Her breath is loud, her lips parted.
‘It was a long time ago,’ she points out huskily, unknowingly drawing my attention once more to the age gap between us. ‘It would bother me if you’d brought her home tonight.’
I laugh. ‘No chance of that.’
‘I’m glad.’ Her eyes meet mine and certainty throbs in my gut. This is wrong. This is right. It just is.
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* * *
Connor lifts me up as though I weigh nothing, wrapping me around his waist and dropping me onto the bed. He towers over me, his eyes, so intensely watchful, doing strange things to the rhythm of my heart. I am completely overcome by my need for him.
I turn my head to the side and my eyes land on his belt, the dark black leather intensely distracting. We might need that.
