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Our eyes hold, our breaths match, the room swirls.
And then he crushes his mouth to mine. Our first kiss and it damned near kills me. His lips own me and his tongue duels with mine, wiping me of the ability to think, to breathe, to move. My knees weaken and only his arm around my back keeps me upright. He holds me to his body as he kisses me and I remember vividly what he said at his apartment.
I’ve wanted to own you.
This kiss owns me. I am his and I am glad.
* * *
Olivia is dozing beside me, her naked body a beautiful work of art that I ache to touch but don’t. Despite the fact I have made love to her for hours, I want her again. I force myself to be satisfied with looking and not touching.
I watch the gentle throb of her ribcage as she breathes. The soft undulations of her naked breasts. The way her lips part in her sleep and her long lashes fan against the creamy tan of her skin. The sheet is draped over her lower half and I resist the urge to push it down, refocusing my attention on the laptop on my knee.
It’s a funny thing, success. The firm that Michael and I started as two renegades, wanting to take on the world and win, is now a prestigious top-tier firm. We employ hundreds of people and there are thousands more clamouring to join us.
Being good at what I do has rendered me somewhat obsolete. Despite lending my name to the business, there’s not much for me to do on a daily basis to ensure our ongoing success.
Six partners report to me and I get myself up to speed on their trial notes, but even they run without requiring much input from me these days.
I am restless.
I’ve worked hard all my life and now I’m at a point where I don’t need to. I earn a shitload of money for doing not a lot.
I thought teaching would fill this hole inside me. That it would draw me back to what I love about practising law, but Olivia is the best thing about the work I do at the London Law School.
She shifts and I angle my laptop away, not wanting the light from the screen to wake her. She smiles a little in her sleep.
Her smile is beautiful.
I reach for my drink—I’ve progressed to Scotch—then get back to work. It’s the Donovan case, that’s all. It’s left me with a sense of unease, but that will pass.
Once I’ve put a little more time between me and the not guilty verdict, things will go back to normal.
Olivia, law school, this is all a great diversion, but it’s not my real life.
And I’m not her real life. This is a diversion for her, too, one she’ll get out of her system before she remembers that she’s a woman who does the right thing and works her arse off to get ahead.
This is uncharacteristic for both of us.
What the fuck was I thinking, interrogating her over her ex, turning it into a game? She’s far too sweet for that. Far too nice.
She stretches a little beneath my gaze and, fuck it, I reach down and curl a bit of blonde hair behind her ear. She makes a sleepy noise, her eyes blinking and lifting to me. Her smile is instinctive. It’s a smile just for me. My gut stretches and rolls in acknowledgement of this pull between us—of how I could get addicted to her smile, and all her sweetness.
‘Hi.’ Her voice is croaky. She blinks and yawns, covering it with the back of her hand. ‘Did I fall asleep?’
‘Yeah. About an hour ago.’
‘Sorry.’ She pushes up to half sit, reaching for the sheet as though she’s self-conscious. I shut my laptop
and drop it to the carpet beside me then reach for her at the same time she scrambles onto my lap, straddling me, facing me.
‘Why sorry?’ I ask, my cock ever-ready for action when she’s near. She smiles as she feels me jerk against her.
She shrugs. ‘I didn’t mean to.’
‘You were worn out.’ I grin.
She returns it and nods. ‘Yep. And now I’m starving.’
