Take the Bait

by Cindy Dees

  Mistake. She shouldn’t have thought about his tongue and the way it had moved against her lips. How it had invaded her mouth and swept inside, claiming everything in its path. How it had thrust suggestively into her wet, hot depths and all but plundered her tonsils. More hot and bothered than she cared to admit, she slid out of the booth. She jumped half out of her skin as Cam’s big hand came to rest on the small of her back, escorting her politely—and possessively—out of the restaurant.

  She screeched to a stop just inside Ma Foulle’s front door. During supper, it had gotten dark, but moreover, the skies had opened up. It was not only raining outside, it was pouring. Crud. She was never going to get a cab in this deluge.

  Resigned to morphing into a half-drowned rat in the next few minutes, she asked Cam, “Which direction to the closest subway entrance?”

  He grasped her elbow and tugged her back from the door. “Come with me.”

  The guy was strong. So strong that dragging her off to the side of the lobby was effortless for him. “My car’s in the parking garage. I’ll drive.”

  “You don’t have to do that!” Hopefully, he would mistake her alarm for gratitude.

  “It’s no problem.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing. C’mon.”

  It was just as well that he’d cut her off. She had nothing by way of arguments for talking him out of driving her home. The idea of being alone in a car with him was daunting, for some reason. Probably because it made this whole thing feel way too much like a date.

  Reluctantly, she followed him into the parking garage. She should have expected the sporty German coupe. And dang, it was tight inside the thing once he closed her door and came around to get in the driver’s side. She was all but sitting on his lap. Every time he shifted gears, his knuckles rubbed against her knee. And of course, it was a manual. Plus, the streets of New York required constant starting and stopping, which translated to constant upshifts and downshifts.

  They were stopped at a red light when he glanced over between her feet. “What’s in the bag?”

  She was so discombobulated the truth just popped out of her mouth before she could stop it. “Sexy lingerie.”

  The car’s engine raced as his foot spasmed on the gas pedal. “Do tell,” he choked out.

  Abruptly, and way too damned belatedly, her face blossomed with heat. “Never mind,” she mumbled.

  The light turned green and his car leaped forward. Desperate to change the subject, she asked, “How does an assistant district attorney pay for a hot ride like this?”

  He smirked at her sidelong. Dammit! She hadn’t meant it to come out that way. “Graduation gift from law school,” he answered.

  Jeez. Her parents had given her a set of suitcases from Sears. And that had been a financial stretch for them. She’d been really touched by their gift. This car had probably cost more than her parents’ house.

  No wonder he was right at home at WMP. He was their people. Truth be told, she’d felt like a fish out of water so far at the firm. But her first paycheck had gone a long way toward assuaging the discomfort. Apparently, she was shallow and materialistic at her core and could be bought. A disturbing thought. She’d always envisioned herself the champion of the downtrodden. The seeker of justice.

  “Why the frown?”

  “Just pondering my general moral turpitude.”

  “You’re telling me you’re wicked and depraved in the same breath you announce you have a bag of sexy lingerie at your feet?” If she wasn’t mistaken, the car swerved a little out of its lane before he jerked it back between the lines.

  “By the way, where are we?” It was raining so hard she couldn’t really make out the street signs. But the neighborhood didn’t look familiar. Not that she was any great expert on the city after living there only a few months.

  “Almost there.”

  She sat back and let him concentrate on driving. The conditions really had gotten treacherous. He drove slowly through street flooding that washed over the curbs onto the deserted sidewalks. She frowned when he turned into a narrow, dark alley, the beams of his headlights only cutting a few yards ahead into the darkness.

  Cam reached up to his sun visor and pressed what looked like a garage door opener. She started when he turned into an actual garage and parked the car. What the heck? This was not her building.

  “Is this the part where you tie me up, torture me and leave my dismembered parts in a storage locker?” she asked a little nervously.

  He chuckled. “It’ll be fun. I promise.”

  “Hah. That’s what all the psychopaths say.”

  Grinning, he got out of the car and opened her door for her. Grasping the handles of her bag, she followed him through a doorway and up a narrow flight of stairs into the coolest kitchen she’d ever seen. Tiny stainless-steel tiles lined the walls and gorgeous granite swirled on the counters between top-end, commercial-grade appliances. He led her quickly through the kitchen, past a dining room with a modern painting in it so stunning she wanted to just stop and stare at the stylized nude woman, and into a living room decorated with plush flokati rugs, sleek leather furniture and more colorful, dynamic art.

  “Wow. Nice storage locker,” she commented, praying she didn’t sound intimidated.

  While he moved to the fireplace and turned on the gas lighter beneath the logs already laid out for a real fire, he explained, “It’s my folks’ place. They don’t come to the city much anymore, so they let me use the townhouse.”

  She gestured at another one of the stunning modern paintings. “Who’s the artist?”

  He shrugged as he moved over to the leather-covered bar. “No idea. My mom’s the big collector. I just like to look at it.”

  “She has great taste.”

  He lifted the shopping bag out of her fingers and replaced it with a small liqueur glass. “Taste this.”

  Even a sniff of the stuff was potent and went straight to her head, making her a little dizzy. “You know, I never drank before I came to New York. Now, people are pouring alcohol down me all the time.”

  He moved close behind her and murmured practically against her neck, “It’s because they all want into your bed.”

  “What is this stuff?”

  “I like to call it liquid panty remover. Speaking of which, let’s have a look at what constitutes sexy lingerie in your world.”

  He picked up the shopping bag, but she snatched it out of his hands. “No peeking!”

  His right eyebrow sailed up. “Planning to model it for me, are you?”

  “Leon Whitney would love that,” she blurted bitterly. Oops. Booze talking.

  “Excuse me?”

  “The senior partners want me to have hot monkey sex with you so you’ll jump off the bridge.”

  “Come again?”

  “You know. Leave the DA’s office and come to work for them. We call you guys jumpers.”

  “Ah.” He paced across the room. Turned and strode back again. “Are you telling me you’re here tonight with the intent to seduce me on WMP orders? Are they paying you for this?” Outrage was unmistakable in his voice.

  “Why the hell are you getting all huffy? I’m the one they’re trying to prostitute out to you. Heck, you were all over the idea.”

  “I was...what?”

  “I heard you talking with one of the partners at the cocktail party yesterday. He told you they hired women like me especially for guys like you.”

  “Jesus.” He shoved a hand through his hair. “You heard that?”

  She squeezed her eyes shut. He wasn’t denying having the conversation. She’d expected rage out of herself. But not this soul-stealing, achingly awful feeling of betrayal and emptiness that hurt all the way down to the bottom of her heart. If only they hadn’t had such a great time at dinner. If only she hadn’t glimpsed the great guy he was capable of being. She reached for her purse, rummaging through a haze of tears for her cell phone.

  “What are you doing?” he a
sked cautiously.

  “Worried I’m going to whip out a gun and shoot your balls off?”

  He took a quick step forward toward her.

  “I’m getting my phone and calling a cab,” she managed to get out without her voice breaking on a sob.

  “Come here.” Big hands closed on her upper arms, lifting her to her feet. “Listen to me. I don’t ever sleep with lawyers. Everybody knows that about me.”

  “There’s got to be a punch line in there somewhere, but I’m too upset to think of it, right now.”

  A finger tipped her chin up, lifting her unwilling gaze to his. “Jerks like him say stuff like that to me all the time. And I’m the first person to admit I’ve slept around a lot. But I would never, ever, let a law firm throw women at me and actually sleep with them.”

  “Well, hell.” She didn’t know if she was more disappointed to hear that he wasn’t the born-again bastard she’d thought he was or that she had no chance whatsoever of ending up in his bed, someday.

  He stared at her. “Care to expand on that expletive, Counselor?”

  “Um, not particularly.”

  “What the hell’s going on over at WMP?”

  She shook her head. It was bad form for lawyers to air their firm’s dirty laundry outside the office.

  He guided her over to the sofa and sat down next to her, tucking her comfortably under his arm and plastered against his big, warm, safe side. “Consider it privileged communication. But talk to me.”

  “There’s not much to say. Apparently, I was hired not for my mastery of the law, but rather my more...tangible...assets. Like how I look in high heels and a tight blouse. I never noticed before how there are practically no female attorneys there.” She shook her head. “I was arrogant. I assumed I was special. That I was the first woman good enough to scale the walls of the ivory WMP tower.”

  “Aw, honey. They go through female associates like candy over there.”

  “Too bad no one told me that before I took their damned job.”

  “You strike me as more the fiery public defender type, anyway.”

  “Thank you.”

  He laughed a little. “Some attorneys would take that as an insult.”

  She ventured a peek up at him. He was smiling warmly down at her, his eyes dancing in the firelight.

  “What am I going to do with you?” he sighed. “I’d love nothing more than to kiss you right now, but if I do that, then I’m the asshole you originally thought I was.”

  “I really did think you were a jerk after our first meeting,” she confessed.

  “I thought you were the hottest woman I’d met in months. I secretly hoped you’d fight on this case so I could see you again.”

  “Really?”

  “Scout’s honor.”

  “Then I guess that leaves only one option open to us,” she announced soberly.

  “What’s that?”

  “I’ll have to kiss you.” She rose to her knees beside him and still was eye-to-eye with him. His expression went dark with shock and then white hot. She threw her thigh across his lap and straddled his hips with her knees, draping her hands over his shoulders. Her already short skirt rode up dangerously high revealing the tops of her stockings and generous amounts of garter. His fingers traced up her legs to outline the skinny elastic straps slowly. Heat shot into her groin.

  The smile faded from her mouth as she stared into his eyes and he stared back. Millimeter by millimeter, she closed the gap between them. She got the feeling that she was approaching a cliff, and once she went over the edge with this man there would be no turning back. She didn’t know what she was waiting for. They’d kissed once already. Hell, they’d all but given each other tonsillectomies already. Somehow, this was different. New. The first time they’d kissed each other that hadn’t involved verbal and emotional sparring.

  Their lips touched, and it was as if the entire world lit up in fireworks overhead. This was the first kiss they should have had. Her mouth moved across his warm, firm lips, tasting the sweet bite of the liqueur on them. She licked delicately at them, savoring the taste, and he let her. In fact, it felt like he was holding his breath beneath her. Tentatively, she deepened the kiss. His mouth opened beneath hers, inviting her in, and she accepted the invitation.

  And that was when all hell broke loose. His arms swept up around her as he moved restlessly beneath her. His teeth closed on her lower lip and dragged her forward against him with gentle force. Her breasts rubbed against his chest and her crotch rubbed against...well, the man was wide awake in every way.

  He released her lip and his tongue plunged past it into the heat and moisture of her mouth, while lip, nipples and nether regions throbbed in time with her pounding pulse. Holy crap.

  Exactly how her arms ended up around his head, or his right hand down her dress and left hand up her dress, she wasn’t quite sure. He muttered, “I’ll buy you a new dress,” right before he tore this one off her and then there was only skimpy red lace between her pale flesh and his tanned, strong hands.

  She gasped, arching into his exploring fingers, her own attention turned to pulling his tie free of his neck and unbuttoning the long row of buttons and zipper down his front that stood between her and crisp chest hair. And pecs. And abs. And engorged man.

  She wrapped her hands around his member and sucked in nearly as hard a breath as he did. He was hot, satin smooth, as hard as rock and jumping with eagerness in her fist. She let go long enough to trail her fingers down his prodigious length to cup him lower, where he was equally hot, heavy and primed.

  He groaned and threw his head back, eyes closed, as she clenched him in her fist again, sliding her fingers up his shaft. Back down. Again.

  “Enough,” he gasped, pushing her hand away.

  He reached between her legs, pushing her thighs open even wider, tearing away the tiny little strip of red lace like it was tissue. His big, blunt finger stroked her, rubbing the swollen pearl tucked within, collecting her moisture and circling the entire area until she felt like she was coming completely undone. Her internal muscles tensed and released spasmodically, desperate to be filled. By him.

  Her forehead dropped to his shoulder. “Oh yes,” she groaned.

  His fingertip slipped just inside her eager opening and she cried out sharply. She’d had what she considered good sex in her life, but this was in another league altogether. He’d barely touched her and she was on fire, her hips undulating of their own volition, hungry. Wanting. Lusting uncontrollably.

  “Cam,” she panted. “Please. Now.”

  “Tell me what you want.”

  She could hardly form words as his finger slid into her with maddening slowness and then retreated. It swirled around the center of the firestorm, consuming her, and then repeated the whole process again.

  “I want you. Inside me. All of you. Hard and fast. Or slow and teasing. Or all of the above.”

  Dammit, he was mimicking her words as she described what she wanted, and he was making her completely crazy.

  “I want...to come apart...around you.” Her voice broke on a cry. “Like that!”

  “That’s it, baby. Ride my finger. Show me how you like it. Let me hear how much.”

  Her entire body was consumed by wave after wave of pleasure, pounding through her like an angry ocean, alive. Electric. Wild.

  She moaned. Then keened. And somewhere in the mindless, shocking, overwhelming excess of this endless orgasm that would not stop, she shouted his name. Over and over, in fact. Only vaguely aware of pleading with him to make her his. To do every dirty, raunchy thing he’d ever imagined with her. To take her to the moon and fly her back.

  In short, he drove her completely out of her mind. And when her body was shuddering uncontrollably around his finger, when her body wept with slick juices, when her entire being pulsed with lust each time her heart beat, then, and only then did he lift her hips and guide himself to her opening.

  “Ready, baby?”

  “Yes
. Now, Cam. Now.”

  He pulled her down onto him with just the right amount of violence, impaling her on his shaft, filling her to the brim and them some, so full she could only throb around him in not quite pain. His hips rocked back, away from her a little and then he pulled her down again as he rocked forward.

  She groaned in magnificent abandon. “Take me, Cam. All of me.”

  And he did. He thrust into her so deep she thought she would never recover from the invasion, and furthermore had no desire to do so. It was as if he took an entirely new level of virginity from her that would always be his and his alone.

  His fingers curled into the crevasse of her behind, holding her still, opening her wider, claiming her—all of her—as his in no uncertain terms. His grip tightened upon her flesh and his thrusts increased in force and speed. She rode him shamelessly, throwing herself upon him and giving every part of herself to him in the process. He stared at her intensely and she stared back in wonder, and gradually his gaze changed to match hers as they found simpatico.

  Not only did their bodies fit perfectly. Not only did they drive each other out of their minds with passion. But it was more. They got each other. They’d found in one another a worthy adversary. A challenge. Someone who would not bore them. They could argue politics with each other, go home and fuck each other into a coma.

  Her knees gripped his hips tightly as she came apart yet again—she’d lost count a while back—and he buried his mouth in her neck. His teeth closed on the big muscle of her deltoid as he surged up into her one last time and shouted his release. On and on his quick, hard thrusts went as he emptied himself into her. Finally, an eternity later, he went still beneath her.

  His arms went around her. Pulled her gently to his heaving chest. Kissed her slow and sweet. Eased her head down to his shoulder. And breathed, “You’re perfect.”