Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 173733 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 869(@200wpm)___ 695(@250wpm)___ 579(@300wpm)
“And I plan to go there with him on the stand, but I need him to say the right things, to help my client, first. But if he killed the father, why release the voicemail?”
“He got spooked,” I suggest. “He’s afraid he’s on the radar. He wants his freedom more than the money, which ironically is what your client said on that call.”
“Maybe. And I do have Walker Security investigating him. The good news though is that I can show dozens of people who wanted that man dead and at least three who threatened to kill him.”
“I need to write.”
He gives a nod. “You know the drill. Don’t give away my position.”
“I’m just going to make sure your client isn’t convicted before the trial over that call.” I stand up and Reese shoves off the desk, and the next thing I know, I’m pressed against it instead of him.
“Do you know what I want right now?”
I arch a brow. “Coffee?”
“You.”
“You can’t have me the way you’re talking about right now. We have people in our house.”
“Who will have no idea that I’m fucking my wife.”
“Reese.”
He kisses me, a deep, drugging, hungry kiss. “Reese.”
“I’m on edge, sweetheart. Like I haven’t been for a trial in a very long time.”
My hand goes to his jaw. “You’re going to kill it. You always do.”
“Tell me that when I’m inside you and I might believe you.” His mouth closes down on mine again, and there’s this dark need in him, this possessive hunger, and I wonder if some part of him senses I’m holding something back. I don’t want him to feel this.
I sink into the kiss and I forget about our guest, my column, and his trial prep. There is just me and my husband, the father of our child that he doesn’t even know about yet. He doesn’t know, but in some way, here, now, I want him to feel how much I want this, how much I want to tell him how much I want him. He turns me and presses my hands to the desk. “Toe off your sneakers,” he orders.
I do it and I don’t even know how my pants are unzipped and unbuttoned, but he’s tugging my jeans down my hips and in a flash I’m naked from the waist down. He turns me to face him, his fingers tangling in my hair, and then he’s kissing me again, drinking me in, drugging me with his need, and God, I know he senses I’m holding back. I know. I’m sure of it. I have to fix this, but in this moment there’s only one way to communicate and that means fucking him the way he needs to be fucked.
Chapter forty-four
Cat
Reese shrugs out of his jacket, his starched white button down still managing to stretch across his broad chest, and even as I watch him, I know what he wants and needs. I know this man. I know those moments when he’s on edge and fucking is all there is to him, and that works just fine for me. He makes love to me. He fucks me. He does everything just right. Right now, he needs to fuck me. He needs to know that I’m all in, that I’m right here with him. He needs to know that whatever he thinks he senses right now, it’s not a division between us. It’s a secret, yes, but it’s a special secret. It’s a gift I want to share with him so very much and I can’t. Not now. Not yet. Not before his trial.
I reach for his pants and stroke a line down the thick ridge of his erection and his mouth comes down on mine, a possessive, devouring kiss, and I meet every lick and stroke he gives me, until he’s lifting me to the desk, shoving down his pants, and without any preamble, pressing inside me. “God, woman,” he murmurs against my lips before he cups my now naked backside and lifts me, one of his hands settling between my shoulder blades.
It’s a wild frenzy from there. Us kissing. Us moving. Him thrusting into me, pulling me down onto his thick erection, sending a ripple of sensation spiraling through me. I lose myself in his touch, in the feel of his hands on my body; the sound of our breathing, our moans. We are wild, in need of more, and more, and Reese shackles my waist, urging me backward, forcing me to trust him to hold me up, and I do not believe this is an accident. Reese and I are too connected. He knows when something is off between us. He doesn’t just need to fuck and feel close to me. He’s testing our trust, and I don’t even hesitate to give it to him. I’m one hundred percent into the passion between us and the play of our bodies. I push into every pump of his hips, holding onto his wrists and nothing else while he holds onto me, driving into me. The urgency between us becoming hard and fast, and he sits me on the desk, leaning into me to the point that I’m forced to settle on my elbows. His mouth comes down on mine and after a deep, consuming kiss, he’s thrusting into me again, his head buried in my neck.