Counselor Undone

by Lisa Rayne

  Now Chase was screwing with him. Michael’s nerves had had enough. As they entered the locker room, Michael leaned his shoulder into Chase and shoved hard.

  Chase landed with an echoing thud against the lockers, and laughed. “Tsk. Tsk. Someone’s awfully touchy this morning.” Chase headed for the showers, his jovial mood not shaken in the least.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, Chase and Michael strolled towards the gym exit. As they hit the sidewalk, Michael paused. Jordis’s car sat in the parking lot under a shade tree. “She’s still here.”

  “She who?” Chase feigned ignorance.

  “You know, Chase. You keep messing with me, and I’m going to kick your ass.”

  “You and what army?” Chase jumped aside with a laugh when Michael dropped his duffle and grabbed for his head. Skirting Michael’s grasp, he conceded, “Okay. Okay. Sorry man. You’re just such an easy target these days. You need to take care of that.”

  If it had been anyone but Chase, Michael would have pretended not to understand. Chase knew him too well. They’d been friends since they were twelve and Chase’s mother had joined the firm as his grandfather’s secretary. “If only it were that easy.”

  “It’s that easy if you let it be.” Chase turned serious. “Not every woman is like your ex, Michael. You’ve got to stop looking for gold diggers and schemers around every corner and let yourself relax around a woman.

  “I spent a lot of time with Jordis when she helped me with my last case. I can guarantee you the woman in there—” He tilted his head towards the gym. “—isn’t impressed with your position and doesn’t need your money. And, given her comment on the court earlier, we can also conclude she’s not even impressed with your ride.”

  They both glanced at his 2010 silver Jaguar XF, with plates REM ESQ, remembering Jordis’s aluminum can threat.

  “If you’re not sure you’re interested, McCormick looked like he’d be more than happy to step in.”

  “Not. Gonna. Happen.”

  “I don’t know, man.” Chase chuckled. “After watching that lady play ball, I have to tell you if I didn’t know you were already hooked, McCormick would be the least of your worries.”

  Before Michael could comment, Jackson exited the building and approached them. “Well, that was an interesting game.” Jackson slapped Chase’s shoulder. “Any chance Jordis will want to play with us again?”

  “After the crap Covington pulled, I doubt it,” Michael replied.

  Jackson shrugged. “She seemed to handle him well enough. She doesn’t impress me as a woman who backs down from a challenge.”

  “And you’d be right.” Chase looked pointedly at Michael.

  “Well, one of you should ask her. We’ve got the Metropolitan Bar Association basketball tournament coming up in a couple of months. We could use her. Maybe we could win the trophy back from Shauke, Hardeman and Lowe.” Jackson headed for his car. “See you guys next week.”

  Michael and Chase waved him off then Michael checked his watch, wondering what was taking Jordis so long. Soon the parking lot on this side of the building would empty. The private court at the back of the facility cost more to rent and generally only got reserved for nighttime events and fundraisers. Michael gladly paid the higher fees to have a private court uninterrupted by youth league practices and female patrons more interested in picking up guys than working out. Other than their firm games, this court didn’t see much activity during early weekend hours.

  Michael picked up his discarded bag and told Chase he was going back in to check on Jordis. Chase gave him a fist bump and walked away. McCormick and Covington exited the building, said their goodbyes to Michael, and strolled towards two of the remaining five cars in the lot. Michael reentered the gym to search out Jordis.

  * * *

  Eric paused before getting in his car. He glanced at Michael’s Jag then over at the orange Charger. He knew Jackson’s car. With Chase pulling out of the lot and McCormick getting in his own car, the Charger could only belong to Jordis.

  Eric tossed his duffle in his trunk and stared at the gym door. He got in his car and rolled down the driver’s side window, pondering the coincidence of Michael and Jordis being together on the Plaza last night and now being the last ones left in the building. He was still stewing over the ass whipping Jordis had given him on the court. The thought of her alone with Remington inside the gym pissed him off more.

  They’d looked pretty cozy coming off that carriage ride and now this. From what he could see, he was losing the bid for second chair in the Metra Pharmaceuticals case for all the wrong reasons. If Jordis got the Metra assignment and handled it successfully, he’d be hard pressed to win the IP litigation partnership spot up for grabs this year. He needed to find a way to take Jordis Morgan out of the picture, especially with Remington making case decisions with his privates.

  Chapter 11

  Jordis lay with her back against the locker room bench, legs straddling either side, feet on the floor. Her side hurt where Eric had elbowed her dozens of times, and she could feel the wrist on her shooting arm cramping up. She hadn’t played ball in a while. She certainly hadn’t expected to go at it this hard during what was supposed to be a friendly pickup game.

  The effort to get her tank off had been excruciating. Bruises had started to form along her side and rib cage. They wouldn’t be pretty come tomorrow. She lifted her arm over her eyes and winced at the painful tug along her side. She needed a shower, but the thought of trying to pull off her sports bra made her cringe.

  A knock sounded on the locker room door.

  “Jordis, you in there?”

  Michael.

  “Come on in.”

  Michael rounded the corner and saw her laid out on the locker room bench.

  Jordis dragged herself to an upright position, her legs still straddling the bench.

  “You all right?”

  “Yeah. Just a few bumps and bruises. Nothing a hot shower, some ibuprofen, and a nap won’t cure.”

  Michael looked down at her midsection and cursed. He dropped his bag and squatted beside her. “Good, Lord.” He ran his fingers lightly over purple and blue blotches along her right rib cage.

  She flinched at his touch. “It looks worse than it is. I bruise easily.”

  His fingers traced across her midsection. The pain of her bruises scattered, leaving a slow boil in its place. He smelled good. It wasn’t the woodsy fragrance he usually wore. This scent smelled crisp and clean, with a bit of citrus. His sporty fragrance, she thought. It made her want to get physical with him in a way that had absolutely nothing to do with sports. His fingers caressing her skin didn’t help. His touch, his smell, his words were messing with her equilibrium. She couldn’t think when he touched her like this.

  She scooted back along the bench, breaking their skin contact. The movement freed her ribs from his touch, but he dropped his hand to a thigh covered by black spandex.

  “Maybe I should take you to the emergency room for x-rays.”

  “No. Trust me. I’ve had much worse than this.”

  He looked into her eyes as if trying to judge her forthrightness. “Yes, maybe you have.” Absently, he rubbed her thigh as he spoke. “Doesn’t mean we should ignore it. That push and shove match got intense. Covington came at you pretty hard. You should have let me take him.”

  Jordis placed a hand on top of his to still its movement and quiet the tremors he’d set off in her nether region. “I fight my own battles, Remington. You need to remember that.”

  “I gave you the lead today, Morgan, because you insisted, but I’m not a man who stands by and lets his wo— . . . people be bullied. One day, Covington’s going to cross a line with you that he finds me standing on the other side of. You need to remember that.”

  He looked down at her hand. He frowned before running an index finger over a polished nail. No French manicure graced her nails today. She wore only clear polish over her natural nails. He seemed fascinated
by that.

  “Something wrong?” she asked.

  He looked into her eyes, searching for something. “No.” He took a deep breath and rubbed a hand along the back of his neck.

  She recognized the move as a sign something bothered him. Whatever it was, he pushed it aside.

  He placed his other hand on her opposite thigh and changed back to the topic she’d thought she’d escaped. “If you’re all right, why were you lying in here half dressed?”

  Her leg flexed beneath his touch. The movement made him look down. Jordis became conscious of her legs spread wide over the bench. Feeling exposed, she started to swing her far leg over so she could close her legs. Michael stopped her.

  He shifted his position so that he knelt on one knee, one hand on each of her thighs. “Answer my question, Jordis.”

  Hyperaware of his hands on her thighs, she found it difficult to speak. “I had a hard time getting my jersey off. I couldn’t bring myself to try for the rest.”

  Michael’s gaze dropped to her sports bra, lingering long enough for her nipples to pebble under his gaze. His voice deepened. “I could help you with that.”

  When his eyes returned to hers, they were that smoky gray that reminded her of storm clouds. The color of lust, she decided. The color, the look, the man, all combined to make blood rush through her veins and pool in her sweet spot. She swallowed, fighting the dryness in her throat. With his hands so close to the apex of her thighs, all she could think about was letting him help her with that and a whole lot more.

  She fought the urge.

  She’d resolved to take a stronger stance on this whole lust thing. Right now, she silently questioned whether that resolve would hold.

  * * *

  Taking her silence as encouragement, Michael slid his hands up her legs. When they neared the crease where her legs joined her torso, she said his name in a breathless whisper. The sound of her longing tapped the adrenaline in him that hadn’t yet dissipated from the ball game. The desire that had bombarded him earlier when she’d stripped off her sweats filled him. The chemically-charged emotion churned together with the jealousy he’d felt when she’d flirted with McCormick and overlaid the possessiveness unleashed by Covington’s manhandling of her.

  He wanted her.

  He’d wanted her since the moment he’d seen her standing across the conference room that first day. No, he’d wanted her since he’d touched her for the first time New Year’s Eve. The complication of their work situation had done nothing to chill his desire. That, in itself, told him this wasn’t some passing hormonal attraction. Denying himself what he wanted only prolonged a turmoil that wouldn’t dissipate until he’d made her his.

  His thumbs angled down towards the bench. As they crested, he slid his hands into the crease of her legs and rubbed both thumbs against her center. A gasp escaped her lips, and her hands went immediately to his wrists.

  He ignored her hands and circled his thumbs against their prize. Without ceasing the motion of his thumbs, he leaned into her neck and kissed it. Her skin tasted salty after her workout on the court. The natural taste of her ratcheted up his desire. He swiped the tip of his tongue against her skin then nipped the spot with his teeth.

  She shivered and satisfaction rushed through him. She wanted him. She may not want to want him, but her body craved his touch as much as his craved hers.

  He pulled back to check her eyes. He would know for sure when he saw her eyes.

  He smiled inside. Yep. They were that dark foresty green of desire she couldn’t hide even when she could mask her emotions in other ways.

  He moved one hand from the damp spot he’d created between her legs and grasped her by the neck. He kissed her deep and with longing. Gone were the gentle, seductive, courting kisses. This kiss said I want you, all of you, and right now.

  Jordis pulled back from him, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she tried to catch her breath. “What are you doing?”

  “If you have to ask, I’m not doing it right.”

  “Michael, you can’t possibly . . . I need a shower.”

  Michael couldn’t suppress the lusty smirk that tilted his lips. “Yeah, let me help you with that.” His hands went to her midsection. “Who knew you were hiding all these muscles under those designer clothes?” He rubbed a palm against the slight indentations outlining her abdominals. “It’s damn sexy.”

  Jordis gave a nervous laughed. When his hands moved to the elastic bottom of her sports bra, her breathing stopped.

  He began to move the fabric up. “Why don’t we get this off so I can see what else you’ve been hiding under your Michael Kors?”

  Jordis’s eyes widened and darted towards the shower stall then over to the locker room door. She placed her hands on top of his to stop him.

  Though furtive, her glances told Michael everything he needed to know. She might be wondering about the wisdom of getting in a public shower with him present and was probably calculating the chances of them getting caught. She didn’t, however, seem opposed to his presence per se.

  “You shouldn’t be in here, Michael. I’ve got this.”

  “You couldn’t do it alone before. What’s changed?”

  “I’ll take a shower later.”

  “Don’t you have to meet Miss Gardner at the office soon?”

  Jordis closed her eyes and sighed. She clearly hadn’t factored in the client appointment.

  He removed her shoes and socks then stood and offered her his hand. “Come on.”

  They stared at each other, motionless, his stubbornness bouncing against her will.

  “Let me help you, Jordis. I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do.”

  Without saying a word or breaking eye contact, she took his hand and stood. Her head dropped as she mumbled under her breath, “Maybe that’s part of the problem.”

  Michael stifled the grin that threatened his face, not letting on he’d heard her hushed admission.

  He led her to the shower stall, leaned in and turned on the water, careful to adjust the temperature so it wasn’t too hot. He turned her so she faced the shower, her back to him. “Raise your arms.”

  A grunt of pain escaped when she got her arms all the way up.

  “Easy.” He pushed the lycra material up her sides, using all his will power not to brush her full breasts with his fingers as he lifted the material to free them.

  After he pulled the bra up and off, Jordis dropped her arms across her chest. He could tell she had some discomfort, but she hid it well, exhibiting the classic stoicism of a trained athlete. Knowing she’d had a college basketball career shed additional light on her personality. The drive, the discipline, the ability to take hits from an opponent but keep pressing forward were skills she’d mastered playing ball.

  “Now the bottoms.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him. “Don’t be crazy. Those I can definitely manage by myself.”

  He slid his hands to her waist and pressed himself fully against her back. His arousal nested at the juncture of her buttocks and lower back. “You sure about that?” His hands traveled around to her abdomen, gliding through drops of water splattered on her skin from the shower spray. “I’d be happy to help. Maybe I could wash your back.”

  Her defined abdominal muscles flexed beneath his palms. Her eyes closed. “Michael, enough.”

  “Enough? I haven’t even started yet.” He dropped his lips to her neck, alternating between nipping and nibbling. His large hand eased down her stomach and wayward fingers pushed inside the band of her spandex.

  Jordis pressed a hand firmly over his from the outside of her shorts and instinctively pushed her hips back to avoid his touch. The movement rubbed her behind firmly against his erection. The thin layer of spandex shielding her buttocks taunted the bulge beneath his athletic pants. He grew firmer against her, and Jordis’s knees released as she tried to stifle a moan.

  He dipped his knees and grasped her more firmly around the middle. Her glutea
l shapeliness cradled over his erection, bursting the fount of lust he’d heretofore been able to keep under a tight lid. He pressed his cheek against the side of her head. His warm breath tickled her ear. “I want you,” he mumbled.

  The hand beneath the waistband of her spandex moved lower, undeterred by the pressure of her hand. He smoothed past soft curls and fingered her lightly. The sound she emitted fell somewhere between a startled breath and a whimper. Her hand clamped tighter over his.

  “You’re wet for me,” he choked out in a gruff voice. “Why do you keep fighting this? Let me show you how great it could be between us.”

  He stood wrapped around her moving nothing but the middle finger of the hand between her thighs. Jordis, tight with tension, radiated indecision. Her shallow respiration betrayed her arousal, and her hand squeezed down on his as if she intended to stop him, but she didn’t push his hand away.

  After what seemed like an eternity of silence, Michael braced himself to have to let her go. He sighed out her name questioningly.

  Her desperate reply rasped through her vocal cords. “M-Michael, what are you doing to me?”

  Instinctively, he understood the psychological import of the question. They stood in the middle of a public locker room where anyone could walk in on them. Under normal circumstances, he had no doubt this would be the last place Jordis would ever consider entertaining his advances, but the sexual tension between them denied rational thought. He couldn’t think beyond the immediate feel of her in his arms. Apparently, neither could she because to his astonished relief, she slowly relaxed her restraining hand and slid it up to rest lightly on his forearm.

  A thrill rippled through him. He fought for control. Losing it like an inexperienced adolescent would do little to advance his long-term plans. He wanted to take this woman to a place that left her totally weak for him. With that thought in mind, he let his fingers dabble languidly, taking a detour now and then at that nodule of nerves that comprised her pleasure point.

  Jordis writhed against him. When she let out a long, deep moan, he filled her with two fingers. Her vaginal walls flexed around the intimate entry, and her legs began to tremble. She dropped the arm she’d kept over her breasts and braced her hand against his thigh.