by Lexi Blake
“Harder. Suck me harder, baby.”
She took him deep, forcing her mouth around his cock and then drawing back only to start the process once again. Over and over she worked him, taking him deeper each time. Her tongue danced over his cock with playful licks and then she blew his mind by sucking him to the back of her throat.
Soft. He was lost in the soft heat of her mouth, in the vibrations she made as she drew him in and dragged him back out. He came almost out and then her lips would capture him again. Her hands ran up his legs and then she settled in, stroking him as she sucked.
There was so much joy inside her. Even this was suffused with her unique energy. After that first day when she’d been traumatized, he found out that there was a core of wonder inside her that made him look at the world differently. She found the good in what was bad, the beauty in the weeds of the world. She turned responsibility into satisfaction.
Could she turn him into something joyful? Could she teach him to embrace the now and not let the future intrude on happiness?
Could she be the one woman in the world to find those small moments of pure love that came even with tragedy?
He stopped thinking about anything but how much he wanted her, how happy she made him. He let go and allowed the pleasure to take over and, within a moment, he was on edge.
She looked up as she took him deep and swallowed solidly around him. That connection was all he needed. He gave up and gave in, letting his instincts take over. He thrust into her mouth and let the orgasm roll through him.
Isla didn’t falter. She sucked him, taking all he had to give her.
When he was done, she sat back on her heels, a perfectly satisfied look on her face. Her lips curled up like the cat who’d gotten all the cream. It was one of the sexiest sights he’d ever seen.
He held his hand out. “Come up here.”
She took it and rose to her feet, coming up on her toes.
He still had to lean over to kiss her. “I’m not through with you. Come here. You want to teach me? I’ll be your best pupil.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “I’ll teach you. First we start with all the kissing.”
God, she made him smile. “All the kissing.”
She nodded even as he lifted her up and started for the bed. “All of it.”
That, he could do.
* * *
• • •
Hours later, Isla rolled over, her every muscle deliciously sore. Used. The word normally meant something bad, but she felt like she’d used her body in the way it was supposed to be used—to worship, to connect, to become something more than she’d been alone. Yeah, she loved the ache.
She glanced at the clock and winced, sitting straight up. It was ten. They’d been in bed for hours, making love and cuddling and talking about things that had nothing to do with work.
David’s hand came up, trying to catch her, but she knew what would happen if he did. He would drag her back and he wouldn’t let her go and more hours would fly by and her belly would still be empty even if all her other places were totally full.
“Come here.” He rolled on his side, the sheet barely covering his hips. He let his head rest on his palm and watched her with hooded eyes. Bedroom eyes. That’s why they called them that. Those eyes were lazy with satiation, and yet she knew he would be on her in a second. “I just want to cuddle.”
Cuddling would lead to him falling directly into her vagina and not coming out for a really long time.
She rushed across to the dresser and pulled his dress shirt on as a robe. “No. I know what you want and it requires calories, mister. I skipped lunch. You don’t want me to pass out in the middle, do you?”
He growled and rolled on his back. “Baby, you remember how I represented that little asshole I hate and faced off with your ex?”
She knew exactly what was coming. Lazy man. “Yes, I’ll make you a sandwich. I have a legal degree and a high-powered career, but I’ll be a good little woman and make you a sandwich.”
She wouldn’t tease him if he hadn’t spent much of the week catering to her. He’d brought her coffee and made sure she had everything she needed.
He refused the bait, smiling up at the ceiling and looking ridiculously sexy as he lay there tangled in the white sheets. “Good because I totally need calories, too. Lots of them.”
“I will add extra meat to yours.” There was some ham in the fridge. Hopefully. Otherwise she would have to find someplace that delivered. “Be right back.”
His head came up. “You better or I’ll come look for you.”
That was what she liked to hear. She winked and slipped out into the quiet hallway. He’d been so hungry for her earlier. There had been a desperation to his lovemaking that pulled at her soul. It seemed to her he was trying to make a decision, and she worried that choice was about her. But he’d settled down. He was a magnificent beast and sometimes he needed soothing.
The key was to get him comfortable. He was inside that head of his too much. When he stopped thinking, he was all in. He’d made love to her over and over again, telling her how beautiful she was, how much he wanted her, how much he wanted to be with her. A few weeks of living together, making a home together, and he would be telling her exactly what she wanted to hear.
His wife had done a number on him, but all he required was some patience. And apparently a sandwich.
“Hey.” Erin looked up from her laptop. She sat at the bar, a beer at her side. “I thought you two were down for the count or I would have asked you what you wanted for dinner. There’s some noodles left but Li tends to inhale everything the women around him don’t eat. Seriously, I have no idea how his wife manages to feed him.”
Strangely, she didn’t mind being not completely dressed. Erin was easy to be around. She didn’t take shit from anyone, but she was also open and honest. “It’s okay. I think we have some sandwich stuff. What are you still doing up? Don’t you have a flight in the morning?”
She looked up, her green eyes clear in the light of the laptop screen. “Yeah, but something’s bugging me about this. That arrest went down awfully fast. I don’t like the kid.”
“No one likes the kid.”
Erin grinned. “I meant for the killing. He’s too soft. This was done with purpose. Yes, there’s rage in there, but to then stay around and look for something? That’s cold. So I’m looking for someone who could get angry enough to stab a woman many times, and cold and practical enough to then clean up and stage the scene. I don’t think that’s Oscar. The trouble is his alibi is shit.”
She’d been worried about that. Oscar’s alibi hadn’t been important yesterday. “He said he was with a friend. We can’t find the friend?”
“Oh, I found him. I’m also fairly certain I found a good deal of Manhattan’s cocaine users.”
That was bad. “Seriously? Please tell me there weren’t drugs lying around for everyone to see.”
She opened the fridge and grabbed the ham, some lettuce, a tomato, and the mayo.
“I know what to look for but then the cops would, too,” Erin explained. “There’s no way they see this guy as a credible witness. And even with me he was reluctant to get involved. He’ll throw Oscar under a bus to save his own butt.”
“What did he say?” It wouldn’t be anything good. She concentrated on making the sandwiches while Erin spoke.
“The friend says he passed out around nine o’clock and didn’t wake up until the next morning, and Oscar wasn’t there anymore. He lives in a Brooklyn walk-up. No security to speak of. Again, I’ve got feelers out, but I doubt I’m going to find much. I have to see if I can pick him up on a camera somewhere.” Erin sighed. “It’s a lot, but if the cops think they’ve got him, they won’t do this work for us.”
The police would only be interested in serving their own narrative. Oh, they would consid
er evidence that went against their theory of the crime, but they wouldn’t go looking for it. And once the case was firmly in the ADA’s hands, Royce wouldn’t even consider anything other than the explanation that would win him the case.
“Tell me what to do and I’ll do it,” she offered, slathering the mayo on before making sure David’s sandwich had a ridiculous amount of ham on it. The veggies were more of an afterthought, but at least she knew he would eat something green.
“I can do most of the work from Dallas,” Erin said. “My son has a soccer game and we’ve got a big family dinner at my brother-in-law’s on Sunday, but I can still get some of this done. I’ll update you when we get back Monday. Until then you should work on your boy. He’s got something going on in that head of his.”
It was good to know she wasn’t the only one who saw that. “I know. I think something about this case is getting to him. Or it’s me.”
“If it’s you, it’s not a bad thing,” Erin said. “I know something of his story. His wife died before they could divorce.”
“I’ve lost someone, too.”
Erin shook her head. “Not the same. You were in love. Your lover died. His feelings for his wife changed long before she left this world. He likely considered himself divorced. I’ve had both happen to me. Oddly enough, the divorce shook me worse. See, the funny thing was I knew Theo loved me. I was in a dark place for a long time after he died. I was angry at the world, at him. But there was this core of strength I got from loving him that didn’t go away. It was the opposite of what happened when I got divorced in my twenties. It felt like that core I believed in had been a lie. Does that make sense?”
Isla shook her head. “Not at all. I thought your husband was named Theo.”
Erin laughed, a musical sound. “He didn’t stay dead. That happens sometimes in my world. But like I said, it was a different pain. One made me question the world, God, everything. The other made me question myself—every decision, emotion, step I took was suddenly under a microscope because I couldn’t trust myself.”
“So you think David is worried that this thing between us is going too fast? Is it about the pressure cooker we’re in? Because it’s nothing I haven’t asked myself.”
“And what was your answer?” Erin asked.
That was a hard one. She cut the sandwiches in two and started putting the ingredients back up. “I suppose I don’t have one yet. But I’m making plans. I care about him. I think this is a man I could love, really love.”
“And he’s wondering if he’s lovable at all.”
The thought hurt her heart. “He’s entirely lovable.”
“Make him understand that and you’ve got a shot,” Erin replied. “I like Cormack. I like working for him and with him. I haven’t seen him this animated since he and Henry and the Lawless puppy started the firm. Be patient with him and when he’s a dumbass, and he will be a dumbass, don’t go too hard on him.”
Isla closed the refrigerator door after grabbing two bottles of water. “I hope we have some more time together before we have to go back to our own lives. I think I might be able to convince him to give us a shot.”
At least she hoped so.
“I agree.” Erin glanced to the end of the bar. “By the way, while I’m gone, if you get a chance between bouts with the boy toy, why don’t you look through that and see if there’s anything we can use.”
A medium-sized box sat at the end of the bar, marked with black numbers denoting a case file. “What’s in there?”
“The police released some of Portia Adams’s belongings today. It’s mostly books and some journals, though she didn’t write much past business plans and lists. She was super into lists.” Erin slid the box across the bar. “They released it back to the lawyers. Henry sent it over here. He thought you might want to look through it. See if it could jog your memory.”
Isla took off the top of the box. Inside were some familiar items. Portia’s most recent day planner in the familiar pinks and blues and greens of Lilly Pulitzer. There was a stack of notepads and Portia’s large tablet. “I will go over them with a fine-tooth comb.”
Portia made a lot of notes, and some of them wouldn’t make a lick of sense unless one was familiar with Portia’s shorthand. Luckily, Isla was quite good at reading her boss’s handwriting and her code words.
“Also, you owe me,” Erin continued. “Some crazy lady wearing more jewelry than a Tiffany store came by. Amy? Something like that. I don’t know. All I know is that chick believes in hair spray. She wanted to talk to you about the memorial.”
Oh, she didn’t want to think about the memorial or all the problems it would cause. “Amber Kendrick. Thanks for covering for me. I know she can be a lot to handle.”
Erin nodded. “You could say that. She was extremely focused. She told me to tell you that she’ll expect you at the offices tomorrow, and she wants to know if you can bring some of the photos you have. She was adamant about that. Told me you should bring all the boxes and she would go through them. I think she thinks I’m your assistant or something.”
“She kind of treats everyone like that. And she’s going to make some new enemies if I can’t talk her out of this crazy scheme.” Isla grabbed a couple of paper towels. “She and Portia weren’t exactly the best of friends and yet Amber is insisting on hosting the memorial. Portia’s sister isn’t a fan and will likely do something nasty to block it.”
“Huh, I thought I saw the same chick in one of those pictures at the penthouse. She was in there with a group of women,” Erin mused. “I recognized her from the photo. It was the only reason I let her come up in the first place.”
The woman was good with details. “You’re talking about the eight by ten in the living room. That was taken on one of Portia’s many girls’ trips. I think that was either London or Paris last year. I should actually take a look at that. We need to talk to those women and see if any of them remember meeting Kristoff. Cressida remembered him but she said he didn’t hang around Portia. She couldn’t remember who it was. Of course, she rarely remembers anyone past her sister and Oscar. She probably doesn’t even remember Miranda went on those trips.”
“Yeah, I’ve had some family members like that. So it might be one of the other women he became involved with,” Erin mused. “I would like to know who. I’ll get a list of the ladies who went on both trips. But I’m curious about Amber. You said Portia was a big deal. Why would she invite the gold digger along?”
“It was a big thing in Manhattan society to be invited. Portia was kind of the queen of her people, if you know what I mean. She took Amber under her wing because Carey, Amber’s husband, was important to her and Trey. Carey’s first wife was beloved. He, not so much, but even the jaded ladies of the Upper East Side came to love Marilyn Kendrick. You couldn’t not. She was kind. She would forgive you for being mean to her and then explain how much better the world would be if everyone was nice. That was her version of confrontation. The mean girl or lady who was making fun of her accent or where she came from would then find herself laughing with Marilyn rather than at her, and then the world did seem a little nicer place.”
Erin swiveled in her barstool. “She was a great lady and after she dies her old man marries someone half his age? I can’t imagine that went over well.”
“Oh, I don’t think it’s even half his age. Amber’s only a year older than me. And the ladies of society did not take it well. She was labeled a gold digger and a stripper. She’s probably the first one, but I don’t think she’s coordinated enough to be the second. They met when she was trying out to be a Guardians cheerleader. She pretty much kicked herself in the face and didn’t make it through the first round, but Carey felt bad for her. Or he was horny and he asked if she’d like a tour. Four months later they were married. I think he had no idea what to do without a woman managing his life, and to her credit, Amber does a good job with that.”<
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“You like her?”
That was a tough question. She’d loved Marilyn like her mom. And yet, she’d seen how Amber took care of Carey. She had to admit that Carey seemed happy. He wasn’t in love the way he’d been before, but he also wasn’t in a dark place, and Marilyn wouldn’t have wanted that for him. “I don’t hate her. It’s hard to see a new person take the place of someone you love, but I had to ask myself if he should be miserable for the rest of his life. In a way, it’s almost perfect. She’ll make his senior years happy and then she’ll have a lot of money to find happiness of her own. I don’t have a problem with that.”
“You are a unique soul, Isla Shayne,” Erin said with a smile.
“She’s also a slow food maker.” David stood at the end of the bar, wearing only his slacks. His hair was mussed and he looked deliciously sexy. “I got cold waiting for you.”
Well, she wanted him to want her. “Sorry, babe. Here’s your sandwich. I got caught up in what happened while we were napping.”
He took the plate with a heated look. “Oh, there was no napping involved.”
Erin smiled his way. “I kind of got that, buddy. I ran interference against all who would cockblock you.”
“And that is why I intend to tip.” David took a healthy bite. “And tip well, Taggart.”
Yep, she was going to be a permanent pink. “The police released Portia’s day planners and journals. Henry sent them over. And Amber showed up.”
He frowned as he swallowed his second bite. The way he was devouring that sandwich, she would have to make him another one. “How did she know where we are?”
“I told Carey,” she admitted. “He worries.”
“You know he doesn’t like me. I’m going to have to figure out how to change that if he’s going to continue treating you like a daughter,” David said. “I’m not used to parents not liking me. I’m freaking awesome. I went to Harvard and I’m a lawyer. Oh, I don’t tell them I’m criminal defense. I simply tell them my salary and they no longer give a shit. I’m not used to the billionaire potential father-in-law.”