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)
“You could go into private practice.”
“I don’t need a lot of money. If that’s what motivated me, I’d be working for my father like my two brothers, raking in five hundred thousand a year. And I like what I’m doing now. I still get the high of the courtroom energy and the challenge of solving each case. And I’m actually able to bring attention to the right and wrong in a courtroom in the justice system.”
“How does your family feel about your new career?”
“Daniel is supportive. He’s the brother that started the hurricane. He takes pictures with my book every time he sees it in stores and tells everyone that his big sister is a New York Times bestselling author. He’s proud of me and happy for me. My older brothers think I’m throwing away a career.”
“And your father?”
“Paid for law school for nothing.”
It’s the answer I expect, and I shift gears, wondering who else in her life has affected her decisions. “Why haven’t you ever been married?”
“I suck at relationships. Didn’t you get that from this conversation?”
“You don’t suck at relationships because your family wants you to be an attorney and you want to be you, not one of them.”
“I was engaged and he slept with his secretary, or rather, fucked her right on top of his desk while inconveniently forgetting that I was coming by that night. So see? I suck at relationships.”
“He was a bastard that didn’t deserve you. That isn’t on you. How long ago was this?”
“Two years ago.”
“How long ago did you leave your legal career?”
“Two years ago. Am I on the stand being questioned?”
“He was the catalyst that changed you.”
“Yes,” she says solemnly. “I knew it was time to live for me.”
“He was an attorney,” I decide.
“Yes. He was.”
“And so the picture begins to reveal itself,” I say. “I have a stacked deck, don’t I?”
“Pretty much.” She reaches up and touches my face. “You’re good looking, rich from what I can tell, powerful in person and on camera, and you’re learning manners. You’re the perfect heartbreaker. That makes you a perfect one and done.”
“In other words, you want someone unattractive, with a small wallet, and no skills at pretty much anything. Is that right?”
“I guess I’ll just stay single,” she says. “What about you? Have you ever been married?”
“No,” I say. “I have not. My obsession with my career hasn’t exactly been conducive for relationships, but that’s not a problem for us, Cat.”
“Because I am one and—”
“My new obsession,” I say, shifting our bodies to roll her to her back, with me half on top of her. “From the moment I met you, Cat.”
“Because you thought you couldn’t have me,” she says. “Now you do. Now—”
“I want more.” My hand caresses up her waist to her breast and I lightly tease her nipple. She pants and arches her back, pressing against my hand as I cup her breast. “Remember that word, Cat,” I say. “More. I want more.” I kiss her, and there is this crazy tenderness I feel for her that I don’t understand, that I don’t feel with women. I fuck. I move on. But holy hell, as my tongue strokes hers, I savor the taste of her, so wickedly addictive and yet so sweet, somehow vulnerable, when she is everything but innocent.
I work the shirt over her head, and my mouth lowers to hers, but I don’t kiss her. I linger a breath, and two and three, from a touch. Her hand goes to my face, fingers curling on my jaw. “More is better achieved without your pants on. Please take them off.”
I’d laugh at her use of the word “please,” but I want her too fucking bad right now to do anything but feel that word in my groin. Fuck. Every moment since I met this woman, I have wanted her. And somehow she’s not a distraction from my world, but already a part of it. Maybe it’s her career that works for me. Maybe it’s her personality. Right now, it’s her fucking amazing breasts. I cup them and lick her nipples. She rewards me with these sweet, soft sounds that are so damn feminine and sexy that I want to bury myself inside her here and now. But then I’d miss the next sweet sound she makes just because I touch her, or lick her.
I lick a path down to her stomach, her fingers stabbing into my hair, her stomach trembling as I kiss it. And when I finally settle between her legs and blow on her clit, she grips my hair like she’s holding on for dear life, arching into me, to my mouth, to my fingers, all over again. I give her nub a tiny lick and trail it down her sex, my cock responding to the salty-sweet taste of her with a lockdown that has my balls so damn tight they ache. My hand goes under her sweet little ass and I suckle her nub now, sliding my fingers up and down her sex. Apparently, that’s the magic we’re both after. She gasps, jerks, and then starts to quake. Her orgasm is here, and so damn quickly that I know one thing for certain: No matter how tough and one and done she wants to play this, she isn’t any more done than I am.