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I slid my lips over her soft skin, kissing the side of her tense jaw. If the sun wasn’t up, we could still claim it was part of the night before. “I always assumed you rolled out of bed with victories already under your belt.”
She laughed, this soft breathy sound escaping her lips. “I should have seen this coming.”
“You want to talk about it? It’s criminal to be out of bed before six if we don’t have to be.”
“I can’t.” She tapped a few more things on her screen and dropped her phone on the nightstand and rolled to her back with a huff.
“Okay,” I said.
“I can’t because of attorney/client privilege, not because I want to keep you away from other parts of my life.” She stumbled over the words a little, clearly unused to feeling a need to clarify herself. I nodded and kissed her shoulder.
The sheet covered her chest, but just barely, and my eyes dropped to the swell of her breasts. “You really love the job, huh?”
“Are you asking me or my nipples?”
I stretched, feeling the lack of sleep but not much caring. “Both.” I flicked my eyes back up to her face. “Sorry.”
“My breasts have little to do with my law career other than men seeing them as an excuse to underestimate me, but yes, I love the work.” RJ looked soft in the diffused light from the window, and I played with the sheet to stop myself from reaching for her again.
“What do you love about it?”
RJ arched her brow and flipped down the sheet. Her plump breasts were tempting handfuls, nipples pointing to the ceiling, and she arched her back. I traced my eyes over her curves, not noticing she’d moved her fingers into my hair. “We don’t really need to talk.”
“We don’tneedto talk, but I’m curious.” I folded the sheet back in place on her chest and rested my palm at her hip. I could have stopped touching her altogether—I should have—but I couldn’t make my hand move away from her curves. “You obviously love your job. Tell me about it.”
She gave me a raised eyebrow when I covered her chest with the sheet, but didn’t move away from me. Her hand even rested near mine on top of the sheet. “It’s a challenge.” RJ’s big brown eyes shifted, and she looked at the ceiling. “People are complex, and there’s always some obstacle to overcome to get to a win for your client.”
The tips of my fingers grazed the tips of hers. “And you win?”
“Of course I do.” She slid her hand into mine, positioned for a thumb war.
“My thumbs are bigger,” I said, stretching it over hers, pausing before I took the win.
RJ moved fast, though, and the sweep of her finger over my skin had me fumbling to regain the upper hand.
We continued the thumb war. In my life, I’d done a lot of things in bed with women, but this was a new one. “So, the winning is what you like best?”
“That, and...” She slowed her movements and lowered her thumb, waiting for me to strike.
“You think I’m going to fall for that?”
“You’re delaying the inevitable.” We returned to our thumb standoff, the side of my palm stroking against the sheet covering her stomach. “What I was saying, though, is it’s the winning, and that when my dad left, my mom didn’t really have anyone to fight for her.” The sides of our thumbs rubbed against each other, the movement closer to a stroke than a battle. “I thought that was bullshit as a kid. I couldn’t fight for her, but I can fight for people now.”
Her brow furrowed, just for a moment.
“You like to help the underdog, stand up for the wronged?”
She nibbled her lower lip. “Most people have been wronged by someone.”
My heart sped up, and I thought about Sarah and leaving LA. I thought about him, too, not knowing how to imagine his face. RJ’s thumb slid over mine, but I didn’t move, wondering if I should tell her. If RJ Brooks, wearing only a sheet and engaged in a thumb war with me, was the person I’d finally talk to.
She pressed down on my thumb, and her expression cracked into a grin. “Gotcha.”
Her expression was so cocky, her thumb still pressing down on mine.No, I won’t tell her.“Lucky strike,” I said, swirling my thumb around hers. “So, what happened this morning? Someone’s threatening your win?”
“I’m assisting on a case where I believed someone I shouldn’t have. People are awful, and relationships make people exponentially more awful.” She pressed my thumb down once more for good measure and then pulled her hand away.
“Yeah. I guess so.” My hand felt strange suddenly without her fingers intertwined. “Not everyone, though. You’re not awful.”
