Legal Passion

by Lisa Childs

  His cock throbbed behind his fly, demanding release.

  “Is that what you want, Stone?” she asked, her voice sharp with impatience, probably because he hadn’t answered her yet.

  He couldn’t remember her question anymore. He could only think about how much he wanted her, how much he wanted to thrust his dick inside her. So he snapped back at her, “Yes! That’s what I want.”

  Her.

  Naked and wild like she’d been on her desk the night before. Moaning and writhing...

  Screaming his name.

  That was what he wanted.

  She gasped. And it wasn’t with the pleasure he’d given her the night before. It was shock.

  “Really?” she asked, and her voice was soft and quiet now. “You want me off the case?”

  He glanced up at her face and narrowed his eyes, trying to focus on the conversation. “What?”

  “You want me off the case?”

  “No.”

  “But you just said—”

  “I forgot your question,” he admitted. And he felt so damn adolescent now, like some horny teenager who was so distracted by the curvy cheerleader in his class that he didn’t know what the hell the teacher was asking him.

  She snorted. “Yeah, right...”

  And maybe it was good that she didn’t believe him, because then she had no idea how much she affected him. Because if she knew, he had no doubt she would use it against him, just like he’d tried using it against her today.

  He flinched as he remembered how dismally that had backfired on him.

  But then she leaned back in her seat and grinned. And he suspected she’d figured it out. Hell, all she’d had to do was look at his fly. His erection was straining it so much, he was surprised the zipper hadn’t separated.

  She chuckled. “You know you’re going to lose this time.”

  “What?” He really needed to pay attention to this conversation. Hillary Bellows was a challenge when all Stone’s faculties were functioning. But now she was downright dangerous.

  Maybe that was why Byron Mueller had issued him a warning. Maybe he’d noticed that the assistant district attorney was entirely too distracting to Stone.

  “That’s why you want me off the case,” she said. “You know you’re going to lose.”

  He shook his head. He couldn’t. Not when he was representing an innocent man. More was riding on the outcome of this trial than a million-dollar bonus. Justice was riding on it.

  She swiveled toward him, and her blue eyes glittered with merriment. “That’s the reason,” she said. “You’re afraid of me, Stone Michaelsen.”

  He opened his mouth to argue, like they did in court and apparently outside of it as well. But he couldn’t utter the denial—maybe because there was part of him that was afraid of her, or at least afraid of how she made him feel.

  Out of control.

  Stone did not like to be out of control. But at the moment, his body had taken over his mind, its demands too intense to be ignored any longer.

  “I’m terrified of you,” he told Hillary. But he made the truth sound like a lie as he grinned and chuckled.

  And the smile slid away from her face as she tensed in the passenger’s seat. Maybe she’d realized then that he wasn’t the only one with a reason to be afraid.

  “You should be,” she said. And now she sounded like the child, petulant and defiant. “I’m going to win.”

  He grinned. “I think it’s cute that you believe that.” He leaned across the console and ran his fingertips along her delicate jaw. “But then, I think everything about you is cute.”

  She flinched.

  He knew he sounded more condescending than complimentary. But he’d meant it that way. He couldn’t tell Hillary how he really felt, that she was drop-dead gorgeous and sexy as sin. Or she would know exactly how much she distracted him.

  And she could use that distraction to her benefit and his detriment. All she had to do was look at him, the way she’d looked at him the night before when she’d torn open his shirt...

  And he would lose all rational thought.

  Hell, he was barely capable of thought right now. He just wanted to feel her: her silky skin, her breath against his lips, her body wrapping around his.

  “I know I’m not your type,” Hillary said. “That’s why I know this is all just some sick game to you, some sneaky trial strategy.”

  “What makes you think you’re not my type?” he asked. He wasn’t aware that he even had a type. He’d always thought of himself as an equal opportunity dater—just lately, with this case on his mind, he hadn’t had much opportunity to date anyone.

  “You and your friends are notorious for the women you date,” she said. “For the supermodels and lingerie designers and actresses.”

  “You’ve got me mixed up with my friends,” he said. Not that he hadn’t dated a model or two and a couple of actresses himself. But he’d never been as involved with any of them as two of his friends were now involved. He still couldn’t believe that Simon and Ronan were in love.

  A twinge of panic struck his heart. That was something he would never risk. Too often falling in love led to one’s downfall, like it had with Byron Mueller. And Stone’s mom. And pretty much every one of the clients Ronan Hall represented in their divorce.

  Nope. Stone would never risk falling in love.

  But lust...

  He had no control over that because he’d been lusting after Hillary for a while now—even before last night.

  “You shouldn’t believe everything you read about me,” he continued.

  She arched a brow and snorted her skepticism as she sardonically said, “Really? You’re not a former runaway who survived the streets of New York to make it big in the big city?”

  Apparently, she hadn’t believed everything she’d read about him. But that was actually the truth.

  “I was talking about my love life,” he said.

  She snorted again. “Love?” She shook her head. “I know you’re not capable of that.”

  He expelled a slight breath of relief. “Good.”

  “You’re too cold and calculating to ever fall in love,” she continued.

  And he flinched now. “I’m cold?”

  He was burning up in the small space of his little luxury SUV. It wasn’t the heat of the bodies warming up the place. It was the desire he felt for her.

  She nodded.

  He reached across the console now and touched her thigh where her skirt had ridden up. Her skin was as hot as his palm. “Do I feel cold to you?” he asked.

  Her breath hitched, and her eyes widened with shock as they darkened with desire. “Stone...”

  She said his name as a warning.

  He slid his palm higher until his fingers edged under her skirt and over the silk of her panties.

  And this time when she uttered his name, it was on a moan. She shifted against the leather, and he pushed aside the silk of her panties to stroke his fingers over the silk of the short blond curls on her mound.

  “Stone...” She shook her head. “We shouldn’t—”

  He cut her off with his mouth as he covered her lips with his. He kissed her deeply, pushing her head against the leather headrest while he slid his fingers inside her. She was already wet.

  He made her wetter, sliding his fingers in and out of her just like he slid his tongue in and out of her mouth. She suckled on it with her lips. And he groaned, wanting her sucking on him instead.

  She made him crazy as no one else ever had. Even when he’d been a teen, he hadn’t steamed up the windows of a vehicle like he was steaming up the SUV with her. Of course, when he was young, he hadn’t been able to afford a vehicle.

  While kissing might have been enough when he was a kid, it wasn’t enough now. He needed to bury himself inside
her.

  * * *

  Hillary gripped Stone’s arms as the orgasm rocked her. He’d made her come with just his kiss and his fingers. He hadn’t even taken off her clothes. Or his.

  She wanted his clothes off. She wanted hers off. She was so damn hot that her hair was sticking to her forehead and her clothes were sticking to her skin. She wanted him so badly—even after that orgasm.

  It hadn’t been enough. She knew he could give her more—so many more.

  “Don’t push me away,” he murmured, his voice a low growl of frustration.

  He needed her, too.

  So he must have found her more than cute. She intended to make sure he found her more than cute. Grateful for the tinted windows, she stripped off her suit jacket. Then she reached for the buttons on her silk blouse.

  She’d had no intention of repeating her mistake with him. But for some reason she’d worn her sexiest bra. It was red, like the blouse. But she’d only revealed a peek of it—like Stone had her nude bra in court—before he pushed her fingers aside and pulled her blouse open.

  Buttons pinged and glanced off the window. She didn’t care. She cared only that he pushed down the cups of the bra and closed his lips around a nipple. And the tension he’d just released wound tighter and more intense inside her. He lightly nipped at her nipple with his teeth.

  And she nearly came again.

  She liked sex. But she couldn’t remember it ever feeling like it did with Stone—so...out of control.

  She clutched his head to her breast. He teased her with his tongue, with his teeth. And she did come again—a little.

  “You are so damn hot,” he murmured as he slid his fingers inside her again.

  She wanted him just as hot for her. So she moved her hands from his hair to his neck. She jerked his tie loose and attacked the buttons of his shirt. At least one of them pinged loose and hit the dash. Then she raked her short no-nonsense nails down the sculpted muscles of his chest to the buckle of his belt.

  He sucked in a breath and his body tensed. “Hillary...”

  She didn’t heed the warning in his voice. She unclasped his belt and unzipped his fly, freeing the erection that had already burst through the opening in his boxers. She pushed his shoulders back so that she had room to lean over the console. Then she closed her lips around the head of him.

  He was too big for her to take him all in her mouth. But she slid her lips up and down the length of him, teasing him like he’d teased her.

  But before she could give him any release, he pushed his seat back, pulling himself away from her mouth. He must have pulled a condom from his wallet at some point because he quickly sheathed himself. Then he reached for her, dragging her over the console. As he did, he pulled down her underwear, dropping it somewhere.

  She didn’t care where—she only cared that she was suddenly straddling him with his penis easing inside her. She pushed down so that he filled her. And a moan of pleasure slipped through her lips.

  Why did he feel so damn good inside her?

  Then he moved, arching his hips up from the seat. But he didn’t buck her off; she was holding too tightly to him, her inner muscles clutching at him while her arms clutched his shoulders.

  He leaned forward and kissed her—deeply, passionately. And as his tongue slid between her lips, he thrust again and again.

  She kissed him back, as crazy for him as he seemed for her. She was beyond control, beyond anything but the passion that overwhelmed her.

  He moved his lips from hers, down her throat to her breasts, which were still pushed over the cups of her red bra. And he closed his lips around a nipple again, tugging gently on it. As he did, she felt the pull from her nipple to her core.

  Her inner muscles convulsed as she came, screaming his name. He tensed beneath her, and his hands gripped her hips. He drove her down on him—once, twice as he yelled out his pleasure.

  She collapsed against his chest, slick with sweat, beads of it trickling through the soft dark hair and over the sculpted muscles. He was so damn sexy.

  It wasn’t fair.

  She’d had no intention of this happening ever again. This wasn’t why she’d waited for him outside the courthouse. This wasn’t what she’d intended.

  But she forgot about her bra. Hell, she even forgot her panties. As she pulled herself off him and eased back into the passenger’s seat, she hurriedly did up the buttons that were left on her blouse before tugging her jacket over her shoulders. Then she straightened her skirt and ran her fingers through her hair.

  The windows were tinted so nobody could see in. But now they were so steamed up that she couldn’t see out. She had no idea who might be waiting outside his vehicle.

  A reporter.

  The attendant who had been drawn out of his booth by all the noise they’d been making.

  She couldn’t be seen. But she couldn’t stay with him anymore, not when she’d been tempted to lay her head on one of his broad shoulders and cuddle with him.

  She didn’t have time for that, even when she wasn’t trying the case that would make or break her career. Hell, he could make or break her career.

  “Give me what I came here for,” she told him.

  “I thought I just did,” he said with a ragged sigh as his chest—his glorious naked chest—continued to rise and fall with heavy breaths.

  Her face heated. “That’s not why I came here, and you know it.”

  At least she hoped he did, that he didn’t think she was some clingy, needy female desperate to be with him.

  He leaned back in his nearly reclined seat and closed his eyes, as if he was about to fall asleep now. So she reached for his briefcase herself.

  He caught her hand before she could even try to open the clasp. “No, no, no...” he admonished her. “No looking at my trial notes.”

  She would love to get a peek at those. Maybe his mole would send some over to her like she or he had Byron Mueller’s and the alibi witness’s bank statements.

  “Is this how I wound up with that evidence?” she wondered aloud. “Some woman got into your briefcase after you fell asleep on her?”

  He narrowed his eyes and glared at her. But he didn’t answer her question.

  Was he sleeping with someone else? Or had he been and that spurned lover was his little office mole?

  Hillary told herself that she only cared because she didn’t want anything messing with the trial. But she knew that was a lie. Or she wouldn’t have had sex with him herself.

  Twice.

  And she was afraid that if she stayed inside the steamy SUV with him, they would have it again. Her gaze dropped to his lap and his cock was already beginning to swell to its enormous, aroused size.

  She shook her head. “No. It’s not happening again.”

  He grinned—that wicked grin that had her body tingling all over again. “I believe you said that before.”

  “I mean it!” But just so she would not be tempted, she threw open the passenger’s door and hurried out of the vehicle and away from temptation. She didn’t care that he might get caught with his pants down; she didn’t want to get caught up with him again.

  He could have her underwear, too. If he showed it to anyone, she’d just deny it was hers. It wasn’t like he could get DNA ordered on it. Of course, though, given how good a lawyer he was, he might be able to.

  That was a risk she’d just have to take. It was safer than having sex with him again. Because she was afraid that if she did, she risked getting addicted to it.

  And to him...

  But before she could slam the door shut behind her, he uttered one last taunt. “You know that won’t be the last time.”

  She could only hope that he was wrong. And that she would win that battle, just like she was going to win the trial.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  SHE
WAS WINNING.

  And Stone wasn’t sure what the hell to do about it. She wasn’t just winning the trial, either. She was winning her vow that they wouldn’t have sex again.

  Sure, it had only been a week. But it felt like a lifetime since he’d been closer to her than the distance between the prosecution and the defense tables. A couple of times he’d stepped close to her, so close that he’d gotten a whiff of the shampoo she used on her hair. It was something fruity, something that made his mouth water with desire to put his face in it, to breathe deep as he thrust inside her body.

  He groaned and shifted on his desk chair. It was late—or early. He had no idea at the moment. He’d gone back to the office after court had ended its session at the end of Friday. But it could have been Saturday by now. He glanced toward the tall windows, but the light was dim. Maybe it was night illuminated with the city lights of Midtown.

  Despite his muscles protesting the sudden movement, Stone forced himself up from his chair and walked to the window. No. It was daylight, just overcast with ominous clouds darkening the sky.

  He’d been awake all night. No wonder his body ached. But it wasn’t just his neck and shoulders aching from being slumped over his desk. His body ached lower.

  And it ached for Hillary...

  Damn her.

  She was torturing him. And she knew it. Or she must. Or why did she wear those little suits of hers just a little too snug, so that the button pulled across her full breasts and so that the skirt molded against her ass.

  He wanted to grab her ass. Wanted to hold it, as he drove himself inside her. He groaned at the thought of taking her like that.

  But hell, he’d take her any way he could get her right now. He wanted her so badly—almost as badly as he wanted to win. But his chances of either were starting to look as dismal as that dark sky.

  The bank statements hadn’t been forged or fudged like the documents the mole had concocted against Ronan. Byron Mueller had transferred a hefty sum of money to his son’s friend—the one the two of them had supposedly been hanging out with on Byron’s yacht when the murder occurred.