Unlawful Desires (Lawyers in Lust Book 1)

by Sassy Sinclair

  Derrick had probably never had a woman do a 180 this late in the game. He looked ridiculous standing there with his skinny little thingamajig pointing at her like she was a guilty criminal.

  “You’re damn lucky I’m the kind of man I am,” Derrick seethed. “A lot of guys wouldn’t take this shit!” He turned in a full circle, searching for his clothes. “I never figured you to be a dick tease. You invited me to spend the night, remember? Is this how you get off?”

  Sharla wanted to say something to diffuse the situation. Maybe if she told him about her prior failed relationships, he would understand her apprehension.

  Derrick tried to step into his pants but tripped and fell hard to the floor. “I don’t believe this shit!”

  “Sorry,” Sharla mumbled under her breath.

  She hit a switch on the wall, flooding the room with light.

  “You can let yourself out,” she said, then scurried down the hallway to hide out in her den until Derrick was gone.

  * * *

  “I can’t believe you did that.” Reese convulsed with laughter as Sharla poured her a cup of coffee.

  Her best friend sat on a stool in Sharla’s kitchen listening to a recap of her failed hookup with Derrick the night before.

  “No means no,” Sharla replied with a shrug. “I had no idea I’d feel that way.”

  “Some dudes wouldn’t have left so willingly,” Reese said, nearing the end of her giggling fit.

  Sharla knew she was lucky that the situation hadn’t gotten ugly. She’d been seized with panic until she heard Derrick’s car pull out of her driveway.

  “I knew your starry-eyed behind couldn’t go through with it. Women aren’t like guys. Sex is emotional for us. For them, it’s purely physical. So forget about your stupid think-like-a-man plan. The right dude’ll come along.”

  “Easy for you to say, Miss Happily Married Woman.”

  “Oh, please. I kissed my share of frogs before I met Nicholas. Just chill.”

  Despite last night’s disaster, Sharla wasn’t ready to give up on her plan. Derrick was just the wrong guy. Instead of a man she wasn’t really attracted to, maybe she would give it a shot with someone who excited her physically. Sharla had never run from a challenge. The competitive side of her thrived on winning. And she was determined to win this self-imposed battle.

  Reese took a sip of coffee. “So I won the bet, right?”

  “Shut up,” Sharla snapped.

  “I guess that would mean yes.” Reese crossed her arms. “So you are coming, right?”

  Reese had bet Sharla that she wouldn’t be able to go through with her think-like-a-man plan. And if Reese won the bet, Sharla agreed to attend the Black Women Lawyers Association’s dance. She had avoided it for the last few years because every guy she met there turned out to be a dud.

  “If I have to,” Sharla grumbled.

  “Yes, you do. You’ll have fun. I need your support.”

  Reese had just been elected president of the association. The dance was the group’s largest fundraiser of the year. “How would it look if my best friend didn’t show?”

  “Nobody’s going to miss me.”

  “I will. Who knows? You might end up meeting a guy who’s as much of a hopeless romantic as you are.”

  That was the problem. She always went to the dance hoping for a love connection but never found one. She knew at least three women who’d met their husbands there. Why couldn’t she?

  “Wear that short, red cocktail dress that flares at the bottom. It shows off those incredible legs of yours.”

  Sharla twisted her lips. “Whatever.”

  “And cheer up. You’re never going to meet Mr. Right with that attitude. Just have some fun without listening for wedding bells.”

  “I’m still sticking with my plan,” Sharla insisted. Nearly every goal she set for herself, Sharla had accomplished. She was going to be successful at this one too.

  Reese exhaled. “I’ll never understand how someone so intellectually gifted can be such a nincompoop when it comes to love and relationships.”

  “You better be glad I like you.” Sharla refilled her coffee mug. “No one else could get away with calling me a nincompoop.”

  “Just make sure you show up at the dance.”

  “I will,” Sharla promised, feeling hopeful all of a sudden.

  Maybe the dance would be a chance for New Sharla to give her plan another shot.

  Chapter 4

  Marcel

  “But I don’t understand. You said you loved me!”

  Marcel stood in the doorway of his bedroom as Camille snatched clothes from his closet and tossed them onto the bed.

  He didn’t realize she kept that much stuff at his house. They’d only been seeing each other for five months and had never lived together. Once he got her out of his crib, he wasn’t letting another woman leave a bubblegum wrapper at his house, much less a toothbrush.

  “Don’t just stand there,” Camille cried. “Say something!”

  Since he couldn’t tell her what he was really thinking—that he couldn’t wait for her ass to leave—Marcel thought it was best to keep his mouth shut. Yeah, he’d told her he loved her. More than once, in fact. But only in response to her saying it first and usually about three seconds before he came. Never once had he initiated the phrase or uttered the words while fully clothed. That should’ve been a clue.

  “You’re upset,” he said, backing out of the room. “I’ll wait in the den until you finish packing up.”

  As Marcel turned to leave, Camille hurled a bottle of deodorant across the room. It nicked him on the shoulder.

  “Hey!” He rubbed the sore spot. “Was that really necessary?”

  “You used me!”

  Marcel almost laughed out loud. He’d taken her to Paris, bought her designer purses and treated her to the finest restaurants in L.A. He even paid off one of her credit cards. And she was being used? Go figure.

  “I told you from the start, I didn’t want a commitment. We had a good time while it lasted.”

  “But I don’t understand what happened,” she sniveled.

  He did. The same thing that always happened. He got bored. All relationships were great in the beginning. Unfortunately, he had an addiction to pussy. New pussy in particular. But new pussy can’t stay new forever.

  “Is everything okay back here?” His sister Layla appeared in the hallway.

  “Why is she even here?” Camille shouted.

  “I’m here to make sure you get the hell out.” Layla charged past him into the bedroom. “Never to return again.”

  “Hey, hey! Both of you need to cool it.” Marcel grabbed his sister by the arm and tugged her back into the hallway. “The drill is on the kitchen counter. You need to go home.”

  Layla was even more determined than Marcel was to have Camille out of his life. Twenty minutes ago, she popped up on his doorstep with some excuse about needing to borrow his drill. But having Layla here was like holding a lit match to a gas flame.

  Layla sneered at Camille, then sulked out of the house.

  Marcel glanced at his watch. He wanted Camille and her drama to disappear before the Clippers’ game came on.

  As he headed into the den, he knew he only had himself to blame. He had let his guard down with Camille. The minute she started texting him ten times a day and trying to track his every move, he should’ve called it quits. But the girl worked wonders between the sheets and that did have its value. And those legs of hers. He loved doing her standing up with her back against the wall, her long brown legs clamped tightly around his waist. Even now, he got excited just thinking about it. Too bad she’d gotten so clingy.

  Marcel picked up the remote and switched on the TV. It took another thirty minutes before Camille trudged down the hallway dragging two military-size
duffle bags behind her.

  When in the hell did you sneak in all this shit? And why didn’t I notice?

  Camille wasn’t crying anymore, which he considered a good sign.

  “I’m sorry I got so upset,” she said. “You were right. You did tell me you didn’t want a commitment. I should’ve listened.”

  Marcel didn’t respond. Her apology was probably a trick. He feared saying something that might set her off again. His goal was to get her ass on the other side of his front door and lock the dead bolt. At least he’d been smart enough not to give in to her pleas for a key. If he had, he would’ve had to change all the locks.

  “Do you need help with your bags?” he asked.

  Camille nodded.

  Marcel took the bags from her, surprised at how heavy they were. They had to weigh close to fifty pounds apiece. When they got to the front door, he waited for her to open it.

  Instead of reaching for the doorknob, Camille just stood there.

  Now what?

  “Can you get the door?” Marcel asked.

  She turned around to face him. “Despite everything that happened, I really enjoyed being with you. You’re a great guy.”

  “Back at you. Now open the door.”

  Camille clasped her hands in front of her and spoke in an annoying little girl’s voice. “Don’t I even get a hug goodbye?”

  Here we go. Women were so transparent.

  Marcel let the bags fall to the floor with a thud and pulled her into his arms for a quick hug. Damn, she smelled good. Felt good too.

  When he tried to pull away, Camille moved in closer, snuggling her face into the crook of his neck. Then she licked his earlobe, which she knew drove him wild. He instantly grew rigid.

  Damn.

  Camille grinded against his erection. “Uh-oh.” She grinned up at him. “Something tells me you don’t want me to leave.”

  Women made the mistake of equating sex with love. Just because his dick wanted her to stay, didn’t mean he did.

  She covered his lips with hers, then forced her tongue into his unwilling mouth. Her baby-soft hand slid past the waistband of his sweatpants and gently massaged him.

  “I think I should take care of this before I leave.”

  Before he could stop her—not that he actually tried—Camille dropped to her knees, untied his sweats and swallowed him whole.

  Most women acted like they were doing you a favor when they gave head, but Camille performed like an artist trying to perfect her craft. Early on, she had bragged that she had no gag reflex. So of course he’d been anxious to put her to the test.

  He still remembered the first time she gave him head. She had sucked, slurped, and swallowed him so enthusiastically that at one point he thought his rod might get lost down her throat. She did this trick where she simultaneously sucked and hummed while tickling his balls with her free hand. By the time she was done, Marcel was balled up in the fetal position, whimpering like a baby. Afterwards, he was so embarrassed about wimping out like that, he could barely look at her.

  Right now, she was going at him like it was the closing-night performance and she might never take the stage again.

  Marcel splayed his right palm flat against the door, closed his eyes, and shoved himself as far down Camille’s throat as he could. Damn, he was going to miss this.

  But as soon as he busted a nut, he was still tossing Camille and her heavy-ass bags out of his house.

  Chapter 5

  Sharla

  I’m not looking for a husband, Sharla muttered to herself. I’m just here to have fun.

  Sharla repeated that mantra a few more times as she pulled into the valet area of the J.W. Marriott in downtown Los Angeles. All around her, handsome men in suits and tuxedos and women in sparkly cocktail dresses glided out of luxury cars.

  As the attendant handed her a ticket, she eyed a thirty-something guy helping a woman out of a Porsche. The woman looped her arm through the man’s and they walked regally into the hotel. Sharla purposefully slowed down to put distance between herself and the elegant couple. Too bad she didn’t have a date.

  After three escalators and a jaunt down a never-ending hallway, Sharla reached the ballroom. The place was overflowing with L.A.’s black professional elite. She saw a couple of judges she knew, two doctors as well as one of her UCLA Law School classmates.

  Before she could repeat her mantra one more time, she spotted Reese standing near the registration table.

  “I’m so glad you’re here.” Reese gave her a hug. “I was afraid I’d have to send Nicholas to your house to pull you out of bed.”

  Reese leaned back for an admiring look at Sharla’s outfit. “I see you took my advice. Red is definitely your color. And I would kill for your legs.”

  “Trade me your husband and we have a deal.”

  Sharla admired Reese’s floor-length, hot pink chiffon dress. Her hair was swept up into a stylish bun, reminiscent of a beauty pageant contestant.

  “Check that out.” Reese extended her hand toward the packed dance floor, where heads were bobbing to a song by Rihanna. “We sold a ton of tickets. Twenty percent more than last year.” The dance funded scholarships for local law students.

  “Congrats.” Sharla scanned the room. “Where’s my boy?”

  Reese’s husband was like a big brother to Sharla.

  “We have a table near the bar. But I already told him not to let you hang on to him all night. There’re some cute guys in here. Go meet one.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  Reese took Sharla’s hand and they zigzagged their way through the crowd. A second later, someone called Reese away, leaving Sharla by herself. Luckily, she saw Nicholas standing along the wall talking to a decent-looking guy she didn’t recognize.

  “Hey, big bro.” Sharla leaned in to peck him on the cheek.

  “And who is this?” asked the man next to him. He eyed Sharla like a lollipop he couldn’t wait to lick.

  “This is my wife’s best friend, Sharla Ratliff. She’s a—”

  “Nice to meet you.” Sharla stuck out her hand, cutting Nicholas off before he told this stranger way too much of her business.

  “And I’m Wallace Browne.” The man’s eyes zoomed in on her cleavage, then brazenly gave her legs a once over. “Are you a lawyer?”

  Strike one. A lot of guys came to the dance searching for a sugar mama.

  “Are you?” Sharla asked.

  “Naw, but I wouldn’t mind meeting one.”

  Sharla responded with a cynical glare that Nicholas completely understood. Wallace, on the other hand, had no clue.

  Before she could think up a way to escape, someone tapped Wallace on the shoulder. “Don’t you move,” he said to her before walking off. “I’ll be back in a few.”

  “Thank God for small miracles,” Sharla muttered

  Nicholas snickered. “That dress is slammin’. Dudes are going to be hitting on you all night. So get used to it. I’ll never understand why you’re still on the market.”

  “Because all the wonderful men like you are taken.”

  Nicholas Coleman was the kind of guy Sharla never seemed to attract. Nice looking and easygoing, he was a solid breadwinner who understood the concept of work-life balance and made every effort to practice it. Keeping Reese and their four-year-old daughter with smiles on their faces was more important to him than adding another zero to the six-figure salary he earned as a captain with the Inglewood Fire Department.

  “That’s bull. You’re way too hard on guys.”

  “No, I’m not. Most guys—”

  Sharla locked eyes with a handsome man standing halfway across the room. He was tall and thickly built. Even this far away, she could tell his suit was expensive, maybe even custom made. The way he carried himself reeked of self-assurance.

 
Her stomach fluttered and desire ignited like a flame between her legs. It was as if someone had stopped the music and the people standing between them parted like a gigantic zipper, giving them a direct line of sight to each other. Sharla wanted to turn away, but her body refused to budge.

  Nicholas glanced over his shoulder to find out what had diverted Sharla’s attention.

  “Hmmm. Am I witnessing love at first sight?”

  Sharla turned back to Nicholas. “What—uh—what did you say?”

  “I saw you eying that dude. Want me to introduce you?”

  “Nope.”

  “Yes, you do. I don’t know him, but I’m sure he’d like to know that he just made your knees buckle.”

  “If you say one word to that man, I promise to kill you and then have Reese kill you all over again once I’m done.”

  “I think he’s got his eye on you too because he’s headed this way. I better scram or he’ll think you’re off the market.”

  Sharla reached for his arm. “No, don’t go.”

  But it was too late. Nicholas disappeared into the crowd.

  Sharla glanced discretely in the direction of the man as he weaved his way across the ballroom. Was he really coming over to talk to her?

  Part of her wanted to run.

  The other part prayed he was making a beeline straight for her.

  Chapter 6

  Marcel

  Whoa!

  The legs on the chick in the short, red dress almost made him break out in a cold sweat. He’d been checking her out for several minutes now, hoping the guy she had been chatting with didn’t have dibs on her.

  If his sister was here, she would tell him to stop being so shallow. To at least talk to the woman before deciding he wanted to get with her. But Marcel couldn’t help himself. Legs that incredible had the magnetic pull of an addictive drug.

  As he began making his way over, their eyes met and his heart did a somersault.

  What the hell was that?

  He was only a few feet away when the guy she had been talking to disappeared. Marcel picked up his pace. He had to get to her before some other guy did.