In the ambient light, his eyes flash with heat. I love it when his eyes turn that molten shade of gray. They’re like liquid silver.
Before he can do much more, the door slides open. His hand slips away, allowing my skirt to drop back to my knees.
On wobbly legs, I stumble out and try to fashion a logical thought. “It opens right into your apartment.”
“Condo. Yes.”
It’s stunning, his space. A living room that contains a white sectional sofa, side and coffee tables, lamps. Mirrors everywhere, and a chandelier over it all. Through the glass window, which looks over a balcony, I spot the Washington Monument illuminated at night. “It’s gorgeous.”
“Thank you. I bought it just for that view. I take it in every night over a glass of wine.” His lips quirk into a smile. “Now where were we?” Pulling me to him, he wraps one arm around my ass and lifts me. With the other, he angles my head and kisses me. He’s so very good at this. He doesn’t attack so much as cajole, seduce me to open for him. He takes immediate advantage and sweeps his tongue over my mouth. His kisses are everything I ever dreamed about—soft, tender. I throw my arms around his neck and kiss him back. He nibbles my lower lip. He doesn’t invade or force himself on me, but licks the seam of my mouth as if he’s asking for permission. Eager for his taste, I give it to him. Gently he proceeds to taste every corner of my mouth. He’s so big, so strong. I enjoy the feel of Steele against me as he tussles his tongue with mine in a battle as old as time. My pussy grows wet as he drops us on the white sofa. He frees his hand from the back of my head and finds the hem of my skirt again, which he lifts. But I didn’t come here to screw. I came to talk.
Breaking the kiss, I lean away from him. “What are you doing?”
His brow scrunches. “If you don’t know, I’m doing a lousy job.”
“I came here to talk, Steele. Not for . . . this.” Scooting off his lap, I tug down my skirt.
“Very well.” He pinches my chin. “Let’s talk.”
Popping open my briefcase, I retrieve my netbook. “Where does Michael Haynes live?”
He widens his arms across the back of the sofa and crosses his right leg over his left knee. “The Trinidad area, one of the worst sections of DC. Murders and assaults are a regular feature of that part of town. That’s one of the reasons I didn’t want you along.”
“You’ll be there and so will Charlie. And I’ve taken defensive courses in school. I know how not to act like a victim.”
“Sweetheart, you can’t hide what you are. The criminals in that part of town will take one look at you and see dollar signs. You’ll need to dress down. Jeans and a plain shirt. No expensive shoes. Sneakers would be best. Pull your hair back into a ponytail. No makeup either. You want to make yourself as inconspicuous as possible.”
“Is it as bad as all that?”
“No, it’s worse.”
“How do you know?”
A shadow crosses over his face. “I’m a criminal law attorney, remember? A few of my former clients live in that part of town.”
Somehow I don’t think that’s the whole truth, but it will do for now. “Okay. What else should I know?”
“Charlie and I will conduct the investigation. You’ll just sit there and listen. You are to ask no questions.”
“But—”
“Sweetheart”—he places a finger against my lips—“what do you hope to get from this interview?”
“The truth. I want to know what happened that night.”
“Madrigal, you’ve seen the pictures Madison brought home. They’ve given your sister nightmares. After your parents’ deaths, you suffered a nervous breakdown. What if hearing the truth from the person who murdered your parents is too much for you? Have you thought about that?”
“I was twelve. Seeing my beautiful mother in that casket . . . It broke something in me.” I take a deep breath, let it out. “But I’m older now. Time and space haven’t healed the wounds, but they’ve made me stronger. I can handle whatever he has to say. I won’t break this time.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Steele, why does it matter so much?”
“I don’t want to see you hurt.”
“Why do you care? I’m only someone you’re helping out.”
Turning his head, he studies me for a couple of seconds. “You’re more than that, sweet girl.” There’s a look in his eyes, something I haven’t seen before—tenderness.
“I’m not a girl.”
A knowing smile curves his lips. “I know. Believe me, I know.”
Reaching over, he tugs and pulls me toward him. He grabs my legs and straddles them over him. “Ummm.” Cupping my face, he suckles my bottom lip. “Are you done asking questions?”
“For now.”
“Good.” Holding my ass, he lifts me from the couch as if I weigh less than nothing. I grow breathless at this powerful move. Once he’s standing, he allows my body to slide down his, takes my hand, and leads me deeper into the condo.
“Where are we going?”
“The bedroom.”
He’s not bothering to ask if that’s okay with me. But then, he doesn’t have to. He knows I want this as much as he does. When we get there, he unfastens his tie, loosens his jacket, and tosses both over a chair.
When he doesn’t remove his shirt, I go for the buttons. “Here, let me.”
He clamps his hands on my wrists. “No.”
“Why?”
Rather than respond, he dips his head and traces his tongue along my jaw.
Predictably, my pussy clenches. “I want to lick you.”
He tangles his hand in my hair and pulls back my head. Something passes between us. Lust, desire, passion battle it out in his gaze. He wants me to pleasure him, but something’s holding him back. “Unbutton me, then. But the shirt stays on.”
“Fine.” I’ll take what I can get.
He grows hard against my belly as I slowly free him, nibbling every inch of his skin as it becomes visible. I spread the shirt open to capture my prize, the ring that pierces his left nipple. Curling my tongue around it, I tug.
“Fuck.” He pulls back my head, forcing me to look into his molten gaze. “Where the hell did you learn how to do that?”
I bite down on my lip. “I’ll never tell.”
His hands tense on my elbows. A flash of something lights up his eyes. Jealousy? “Tell me.”
“Cristina.”
“Who’s she?”
“My best friend. That’s who I was with when you called. She was my roommate during law school. She . . . talked about the things she and her boyfriend did.”
“Did you also discuss your sexual adventures?”
“Hard to do.” I laugh. “I didn’t have a boyfriend in law school.”
“Were men at Yale Law blind?”
“No. I just . . . Didn’t.” How did I get myself into this mess?
“Didn’t what?”
“I didn’t like sex, okay?”
“But now you do.” It’s not a question.
My answer will give him a higher opinion of himself than he already has, but it’s the truth. “Yes.”
A slow, very masculine smile rolls over his lips.
It’s time to wipe that smirk off his face. My hands go to his belt. After I free the prongs, I pull and snap it out like a whip. For a moment his left brow curls upward, and then he smiles. While I work on his pants, I feel the weight of his gaze on me—hot, passionate, patient. He’s enjoying me doing this to him.
I push him until he drops on the bed, remove his shoes. “Lift.” When he raises his hips, I peel the slacks off him. All that’s left are his boxer briefs. He glances at them, and then up at me. “Don’t you want to do the honors for them as well?”
“In a minute.” Remembering something Cristina sai
d to me, I stand back and unbutton my jacket while he lies on the bed devouring me with his gaze. The blouse comes off next, a demure top with a white bow at the neck. His eyes flash with fire when I reveal what I have on underneath, a blue peekaboo bra. I unzip the skirt and shimmy it off, leaving me in only the matching bra and panties.
“Come here.”
“Where are the condoms?”
He points to his night table. I open a drawer, and sure enough, they’re there all snug in their box. I flip one out and toss it on the bed. He follows the motion. “Aren’t you going to put it on me?”
“Not just yet.” I tug on his boxers, and his cock—long, thick, hard—springs up, unfurling all the way to his belly button. Altogether with his powerful thighs, hard abs, defined pecs, he’s something else.
He folds roped arms behind his head. His mouth twitches as he stares at me. Bastard.
“I amuse you?”
His mouth goes straight. “I’m amused by you. That’s different.”
I prop my fists on my hips. “How on earth is that different?”
“When you say ‘I amuse you,’ the focus is on you, Madrigal. When I say ‘I’m amused by you,’ the focus is on me.”
Brilliant lawyer that he is, the argument is intended to redirect my focus away from the fact he’s laughing at me. But I’m not falling for it. And I know just how to wipe that grin off his face. I curl my hand around his cock, and the grin immediately vanishes. When I lower myself to him, he asks, “What are you doing?”
“If you don’t know, I must be doing a lousy job.” And then I engulf his cock with my mouth. I’ve never done this before, so I don’t have the faintest idea how to go about it, and he’s so damn big I can barely wrap my mouth around him. He tastes of salt and potent man. I lick the head where a drop tempts me.
He barks a curse. “Wrap your hand around me at the base.” He covers my hand with his. “Here. Like this.” He pumps up and down with his hand around mine while I lollipop his crown. When his eyes roll back in his head, I know I must be doing something right. His breath bellows. “Stop.” I immediately do, and he huffs out a breath.
“You didn’t like it?”
“I loved it, but I’m going to blow if you keep that up.”
“It’s fine, Steele.”
He cups my cheek. “You understand what’s going to happen here?”
“Yes. You’re going to come in my mouth.”
“And you’re fine with that?”
As an answer, I push his hand away and go back to work on him. He digs his heels into the mattress and slowly pumps up and down. It doesn’t take long before he swells and grows, and he comes, barking another curse. It runs down the sides of my mouth, and I wait until he stops trembling. Once he does, I crawl on the bed next to him and stroke his chest while he gets his breath back.
Then he stares at me as if I’ve grown two heads. But that damned amused grin of his is gone. I smile, satisfied at what I’ve gained. He won’t think I’m so funny anymore.
He pulls me under him.
“What are you doing?”
“Turnabout’s fair play.” Leaning closer, he breathes me in like a feral creature out in the wild scenting his mate. “You wet, Madrigal? I bet you are. I bet you’re soaked. Shall I find out?”
“D-don’t.” But it’s too late. His hand skims up my thigh to my panties. He tugs them aside, and suddenly he’s there. At the place where I can’t lie. His finger slides into my slick pussy.
“Ooohhhhh.”
And then he goes down on his knees and kisses his way up my leg to my mons.
His mouth is on me, licking, sucking, nibbling. My heart pounds like a big bass drum. I writhe because I know what’s coming this time. Me. “Oh, my God, Steele.”
Those gray eyes of his shine up at me. “Tell me you want this, Madrigal.”
“Yes, oh, yes.”
He lifts one of my legs over his shoulders, then the other, and proceeds to feast on me. His hot, ravenous mouth gives me no quarter—not that I want any. I clamp onto him while he draws the cream out of me. I should be horrified at what I’m letting him do, at what I’m doing, but the truth is I don’t care. Plain and simple, I love what he’s doing to me.
He yanks off my panties. The bra clasp is child’s play to him. My undies join my clothes on the floor, ripped off by those strong hands of his. I’m naked and trembling. He’s got me just where he wants me, and all I want is more of him.
“I love your breasts,” he says, filling his hands with them. He leans down and sucks one into his mouth while his fingers tweak the other nipple. “You taste like cinnamon.”
I’m trembling so hard I don’t know if my knees will hold up. “And your pussy?” He slips a finger into his mouth, the same finger that teased my mons. “Sweet honey.” He rubs that same finger over my mouth. “Suck.” I do, tasting myself. “I love the way you taste.”
He grabs the condom, tears it with his teeth. “Do you want me to fuck you, Madrigal?”
A whimper is all I can manage.
“You’ll have to do better than that.” His fingers sink into my pussy, teasing a yes out of me.
“Good girl.” He lifts me, fits himself into me. When he rams home, we both grunt.
He thrusts and thrusts and thrusts while I hang on tight for all I’m worth. He bangs me repeatedly, his hands squeezing my ass. I bury my head in his neck and suck his skin. I can’t get enough of the taste of him.
“Bite me.”
I do, and he comes in a rush inside me.
When our labored breathing returns to normal, he sweeps the hair from my face as a slow grin dawns on his. It’s the first honest smile I’ve ever seen on him.
Something dings in the distance, bringing me back to the present. “What time is it?”
“A little after ten.”
“I have to go.”
“I’ll drive you.”
“No. Not this time. I’ll take a cab. That hotel down the street should have one.”
“No need. I’ll have Fred get one for you.”
“I have to shower first. I can’t go home smelling like sex.”
By the time I’ve finished showering, the cab’s waiting for me downstairs. He accompanies me to the ground floor and kisses me good-bye at the curb. I fall asleep on the ride home and wake only when the driver pulls through the gate. When I start to pay him, I find out Steele took care of the tab. I sneak into the house with no one the wiser and check in Madison’s room. She’s fast asleep. There’s neither hide nor hair of Gramps or Olivia. I had warned them I’d be out late. So at least for now I’ve gotten away with it.
Next morning over breakfast, I explain my need to go to the office to finish a research project due Monday. Gramps nods but doesn’t say a word. He’s busy reading the business section of the Washington Courier, a daily ritual of his. His acquiescence doesn’t surprise me since he understands the demands of a law career.
But Olivia has a few things to say when I run up to my room to grab my briefcase. “Summer interns don’t normally work as hard as you do.”
“I’ve asked for extra assignments.”
“Why? You have no plans to work at your grandfather’s law firm after the summer ends.”
After checking my netbook to make sure it got a full charge overnight, I drop it into my briefcase. I’ll need it to take notes during the interview. “I want to make a good showing. Lots of the other interns think I’m skating by on my connection to Gramps. I don’t want them to get the wrong idea.”
“Very well,” she says, looking none too convinced.
“You think Madison will be okay? She didn’t wake with nightmares last night.”
“She’s strong, resilient. She’ll weather the bad dreams just like you did.”
“Okay. But if something happens, call me, and I’ll come
home.”
“Nothing will. Go on.”
CHAPTER 19
Trenton
On Saturday, I wait for her at our predetermined spot in the firm’s underground parking lot. Right on time, she pulls up in an SUV. Her jeans delineate every inch of her delicious ass, which of course makes my dick hard.
As soon as she slides into my Jag, I say, “You shouldn’t have come.”
“We’ve already had this discussion. You can’t stop me, Steele.”
She’s wrong; I absolutely can. But she needs to face this demon. I scrub my face, nod. “Fine. Let’s go over the rules again. I’ll introduce you as my assistant, but I don’t want you asking any questions. Do you understand?”
Her jaw clenches. Unable to stop myself, I reach over, curl my hand around her nape, and pull her to me. She struggles at first. Within a few seconds, she stops resisting, but she doesn’t participate.
“Kiss me back, Madrigal.”
“I will once you stop trying to show me who’s boss.”
I smile. “Okay.” I release her and let her come to me.
Climbing into my lap, she grabs my head and pulls me to her. The kiss is incendiary as she licks my lower lip, nibbles the top one.
“Umm. More, sweet girl.”
Her lips shape into a smile as she insinuates her tongue into my mouth. I nibble the tip as I grab her ass and squeeze. When she jerks back, the horn goes off.
She bites down on the lower lip I want to ravish. “Oops.”
I’m seriously debating climbing into the back of her SUV, stripping her bare, and fucking her when a car pulls in next to us.
“It’s Charlie.”
“Yeah.” Reluctantly I let her go.
She scoots to the passenger side and straightens out her ponytail while I climb out of the driver’s side and walk over to open her door. Other than her slightly red lips, you can’t tell we’d been going at it hot and heavy in my car.
Charlie’s jalopy stops knocking just as we climb in, me into the front passenger seat, Madrigal in the back. She wrinkles her nose, probably at the stink of cigarette smoke, but she doesn’t say a thing.
“You really should have that noise looked into,” I say to Charlie.
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