“Keep giving me those eyes and I’ll have you on your back again.”
I bit my lip, thinking of all the ways he could have me.
“Now you’re just asking for it,” he said as he dived into me, pinning me on my back and nuzzling my neck. My hands sunk in his hair, holding him closer to me while his hands plundered my body, stealing my breath with every touch.
***
All of that talk about my job reminded me of the case that could bring me one step closer to my goal of becoming Junior Partner. Something about this case kept niggling at me. Something I couldn’t put my finger on, but it was the first thought to pop into my head that morning, followed immediately by the delicious ache of the previous night’s and early morning’s romps.
Sitting at my desk, I tried recalling the details again. Ms. Farrows claimed that following her breakup with Mr. Trevaunt, she went by his house on the 15th to retrieve some of her personal belongings. She claimed the altercation happened over some items that were gifted to her.
“When I went to leave, he pulled me back by my arms, threw me into the door, and tried to wrestle the items from my hand. He slammed my face into the floor while he yelled at me. I must have blacked out because I don’t remember how I got all of the other bruises, but when I came to, he was no longer in the room, and I escaped his house with the things that were still scattered around the floor.”
The defendant read like a self-entitled rich kid—a dime a dozen in a place like Vegas, where everyone who had money thought they were somebody. He probably thought girls like Ms. Farrows were disposable—things to be tossed aside like yesterday’s pastries.
I hadn’t seen Ms. Farrows, but I remembered her bio. I imagined her to be another ordinary Midwestern girl who was probably a little too innocent for a place like Vegas, but like me, came here to see a change of pace.
It wasn’t the first time I’d seen a case like this, and it wouldn’t be the last. Our law firm had a laundry list of clients looking to sue some big shot that got a little rough. Typically the girl would be bought off and everything would be swept under the rug before it ever went public. In fact, the only reason why this had become such a big deal was because of the defendant.
The defendant’s father, Edward Trevaunt, was one of the wealthiest men in the city, let alone the state, and it was only a couple weeks prior to the incident that the tabloids had been relaying news of his death—even going so far as doing a full day of coverage of his funeral. I didn’t remember seeing the son on any of the news clips I’d seen, but they kept talking about how devastated he was. Maybe it was all just too much for him, and he lashed out at the first person he could—Ms. Farrows.
It was EJ Trevaunt’s absence after his altercation with Ms. Farrows that made this all a news spectacle. PR representatives from his father’s company were continuously telling the news that they didn’t speak on the family’s personal matters, but word was, even his company was operating with a stand-in for EJ.
“Knock Knock,” Joel said at the entrance of my office, with a mug in each hand and a smile that pulled me from the downward spiral of EJ’s life.
“I thought you could use some fuel seeing as how you didn’t get much sleep.” He winked with a cheeky smile and strolled into the room, with a mug outstretched for me to take. I grinned, taking the mug in hand and sipping to hide the smile I couldn’t seem to wipe from my face. I felt like a teenage girl with a crush on the captain of the football team and he just now noticed me. The alcohol from last night had burned off, but left behind the truth of what I’d spent days denying—there was genuine chemistry between Joel and me. He had a magnetic pull that drew me in from the very first moment I saw him, and the more time I spent with him, the more I forgot why I was keeping my distance.
We both took sips from our mugs, our eyes glued to each other’s over the rims of our cups. While I had plenty of work to catch up on, I didn’t mind the welcome distraction of seeing Joel barefoot and shirtless. His arms flexed and the muscles of his chest rippled as if a chill passed over him. He set his mug down and leaned over my desk to show his interest in what I was working on.
“Whatcha got there?” he asked, nudging his head in the direction of the files scattered to my right. I closed my laptop, extinguishing all of the light so his prying eyes wouldn’t be able to see anything revealing.
“Just a case I’m helping out with.”
“I get it. So you’ll have an advantage when you go back to work…unless everyone you work with is just as work obsessed as you.”
He got comfortable, sitting on the edge of my desk.
“It’s not really my case, but I try to offer insight where I can. You know, everyone likes a team player.” I shrugged my shoulders, trying to feign like my whole work existence didn’t revolve around this philosophy.
“Anything exciting?” He tipped his chin up, acknowledging the folders again.
It wasn’t in my nature to share anything with anyone. Seeing as how my only friends in Vegas also worked at the firm with me, they were as much in the know as I was, hence why it wasn’t really necessary to share. My family’s inquisitiveness about my work began and ended with “how was your day.” It was actually kind of nice that Joel was genuinely interested in what I was working on. I didn’t really know what to expect after our night of passion—if things would go back to how they were with a comfortable wall erected around us to encourage us to keep our distance. Besides, disposable lovers didn’t need to know the details of the other’s life. It only confused and complicated things, and right now things were definitely getting murky between us.
I hesitated on how much of my job to reveal before responding, “Um, our client is suing her ex for damages. You know, the usual.”
“Interesting. So what specifically are you working on?”
“I’m just doing research at this point. I’m reviewing the details so if this happens to go to court, we’re prepared for any curveballs. Reviewing prior cases to present examples to the court, you know that kind of thing.”
“And what do you think?”
“About what?”
“The curveballs? Are you prepared?”
“I’m still working some things out. Going over timelines and whatnot.” I didn’t want to say too much. Already, he had surprised me by his engaging conversation over my job. I stared at the folder close to me, willing it to unfurl some detail I’d missed. No matter how long I stayed sitting at this desk, reading over the same reports, something wasn’t right. It was an itch I couldn’t scratch.
“Thanks for the coffee by the way,” I said, picking the mug back up for another sip. Hot liquid rushed to my lips and spread across my tongue. The sweetness of the soy milk masked the bitterness of the coffee—just the way I liked it. I didn’t see him make coffee for himself yesterday, and now I wondered what filled his mug. Was he drinking coffee, too? Was it black? Creamer only? Or did he take it with a bit of sugar? I mentally chastised myself for caring. My intrigue of this man was not lost on me.
“I have my moments,” he said with a tilt of his shoulders. The casual shrug only seemed to define the bulge of his shoulders and arms as thick as my thighs—arms that I remembered flipping me on the bed last night like I was a coin to be tossed. Right now, I wanted those arms to pick me up from my chair and lay me out across the desk. I wanted to feel the heat of his body pressed into mine, juxtaposed with the coolness of the glass tabletop. The warring temperatures already had my body heightened to a level of awareness I’d never felt before. How could this man make me turn on myself that quickly? Was I stupid to think I would be the one woman capable of resisting this specimen of a man with his tempting smile and obvious comfortability in his own skin? Not that men express insecurities in the same way women do, but I had to admit, Joel was unusually confident even for someone of the opposite sex. Maybe that was the appeal though—his raw sex appeal was almost comical.