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He crinkles his eyes at me with a wicked smile. “I probably should be fired. But I don’t care. All I care about is protecting you and your assets and your job.”
He pushes me gently off his lap and lays me on the sofa, then leans over and claims my mouth with a deep, sensuous kiss. “And these,” he says, petting and cupping both my breasts. “Must protect these.”
He covers my face with kisses again, and my skin reacts the same as the first time: full-body tingles. His soft, strong lips and his whispers make me feel so special, even though I know I’m going to miss him. When he stands to go, I come up and circle my arms around his neck. Standing on tiptoe I can just reach the stubble on his chin with my lips, which brush against his warm skin. He smooths his hands over my ass. “And that ass. Must protect the ass too. Would be a shame if anything happened to it.”
My panties are in his left hand; he holds them to his nose. My mouth gapes as I watch him—slowly and with his eyes closed—inhale my scent from them. “I think I will take these with me, though,” he says, stuffing my panties into his overcoat pocket which he’s retrieved from the coat hook by the door.
I don’t know whether it was the massage, Miles listening to me dump all my frustrations on him, or the mind-blowing orgasm, but despite all the wine I’m energized for work the next day.
12
Miles
In the weeks that follow, my decision to not bed Martha until after this case has gone away is starting to wear me down.
My breaking point comes on the day my client has insisted on meeting me for lunch for an update on the case.
And he doesn’t like what I have to say one bit.
“We can keep this case going, but you should know that, technically, that statue belongs to the school, and it’s up to the board and the headmistress to decide what to do with it. I’ve looked at every angle, and they are well within their rights to take it down,” I say.
Chamberlain gives a disgruntled huff over his plate of cheese fries, and a tiny speck of potato flies out. I’ve lost my appetite, placing my napkin over my field greens.
“Well then maybe it should be returned to the original donors, which was the diocese, right?” he counters.
“Oh. So now you do want it taken down?” I ask.
Chamberlain blusters, “That’s not what I said.”
I survey this dimwit. There may be nothing I can say that will convince him to let any of this go. “Ed, I’m not feeling great about going into this deposition later this week. You can’t get this emotional when you’re being deposed; it won’t go well.”
He crosses his arms and leans forward. “I can’t help it. My wife is very upset about the drama department.”
I rub my temples. “Again with the play. It seems to me, you and your wife have a personal vendetta against Ms. Moody and if that is the case, you need to tell me immediately.”
Chamberlain shakes his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“I just feel as if you’re not telling me everything. Why do you have it in so bad for this woman?”
Chamberlain’s face goes from pink to as red as the ketchup bottle on the table. “Listen to me. You need to find out the nature of this transaction and if that statue actually belongs to the school, the original donor or the diocese, then we need to build our case from there. Beyond that, there is nothing you need to know.”
The next 24 hours are spent looking through archives, but I find nothing about the documentation behind the statue.
I’m so tired of all of it, I could scream.
Giving up all my resolve to wait until this case is actually over to ravish Martha and take her to bed, I stop at the drugstore for some condoms. She can have all of me, and I want to give it to her. Tomorrow, she’s being deposed by our team, and it’s going to be ugly. She needs to know how I feel about her, and I’m going to tell her tonight.
But she doesn’t answer the door when I knock. I text her but she doesn’t answer. Taking the hint, cursing myself on her front step, I go home.
I don’t want to turn into one of those guys who won’t take no for an answer.
I accept my rejection and head home, but on the way I remember what tonight is. It’s opening night for the school play.
13
Martha
The only thing that could make me feel prouder of my kids—my students—is if they were actually my own biological children.
