“That’s not surprising. She was looking at you like you were a gourmet meal and she was starving,” she said.
Ben shook his head as they reached his dark, department-issued sedan. “I’d be pissed if one of my friends did that.”
“Lane’s like me – not one of the nice girls,” Layla said. “I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of.”
“No one’s perfect. I don’t think you’re that much like her.”
She shrugged and looked up at the dark night skyline. “I’m not one of the sweet girls men fall in love with and take home to their parents.”
“I find that hard to believe,” he said, reaching for her hips. Layla laughed and looked down.
“Why? You want the same thing all men want from me.” She looked up to his face and saw his brows furrow.
“That’s not fair,” he said. “That’s not all I want. And I’m not pressuring you for it. We both know damn well you want it, too.”
Layla held her breath, willing him to say more about what else he wanted, but he opened the car’s passenger door for her and she stepped in. Her heart pounded as she waited for him to get in the car, and when he did, she looked over at his golden brown stubble. Before he could start the car, she reached for his cheek, running her nails gently across the hair that had been calling to her.
Ben leaned her way, closing his eyes as she touched his face. He reached a large hand around to the back of her head, pulling her to him and pressing his mouth to hers. Layla felt the burn of arousal between her thighs as his tongue found hers. She worked her fingers around to the back of his head, running them into his hair.
Ben reached a long arm around her waist and pulled her toward his lap. She cried out with surprise as her back was wedged against the steering wheel.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“No, don’t stop,” she said, gently pressing her nails into his scalp. His hands and mouth were telling her that he craved her body, but she also heard him saying that he preferred her round ass and huge boobs to Lane’s perfect tiny body. That he wanted something more from her. He pulled his warm mouth away from hers and she reached for his cheeks, wanting to return for more of him.
“Let me move my seat back,” he said, reaching down to the side to search for the handle. “God, you smell good. My fucking legs are huge, I’m sorry.”
Layla lowered her mouth to his earlobe, nipping at it and enjoying Ben’s groan as he frantically fumbled with the seat handle.
“Did I find your sweet spot?” she asked playfully.
“Every spot’s sweet when you touch it.”
The seat lurched forward a bit and the horn honked briefly as Layla’s back pressed against it, making her jump. They both laughed and Layla felt a tingle from the feel of Ben’s hot breath on her exposed cleavage.
When the seat slid back, Ben wrapped his arms around her back and pulled her into him, tugging gently on a thick section of her hair as he kissed her. He was rock-hard beneath her, and she moaned against his mouth, wanting more.
His lips skimmed over her collarbone and across her neck. When they found the swell of one breast, Layla didn’t think she could take any more.
“Ben …”
“I fucking love hearing you say my name. If you were underneath me right now I’d make you scream it.”
She cried out as his teeth toyed with one of her nipples through her shirt and bra.
If he keeps talking like that, I’ll get off just from this. Shit, that’s embarrassing.
He pressed her forward until her back rested lightly against the steering wheel, allowing one of his hands to roam up beneath the bottom of her shirt. His eyes held hers as his fingers slowly skimmed across her stomach.
Ben’s eyes closed suddenly and he sighed deeply. “Christ,” he muttered. “My phone’s buzzing in my pocket. It might be work.” He pushed his hips up and dug it out, pushing a button.
“This better be good, Fisher,” he growled. His jaw tensed as he listened for a few seconds. “Yeah, I’m on my way. Tell dispatch to send me the address.”
Layla climbed off his lap as he hung up, her body still humming with arousal.
“I have to go cover for another sergeant on a homicide,” Ben said, his tone full of regret. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s work, I get it.” Layla pulled her seat belt across her chest as he started the car.
“Well, I wanted to continue this back at your place.”
“Me, too,” she said. “This would’ve been the night, too. I was about to unzip your pants and do you right here.”
Ben’s eyes were on the rearview mirror when he groaned loudly. “Don’t tease me, you evil woman.”
“I would’ve wanted to go home first, but you really did have me worked up,” she said, grinning. “How long will this work thing take?”
“A while. At least several hours.”
“Mmm. And it’s already close to midnight. Another night, maybe.” She tried to keep her tone casual. She wouldn’t mind waiting several hours for him to climb into bed next to her, and she hoped he’d suggest it. Even if she did have to be up at 6:30 for work.
“Starting tomorrow … or, wait, starting in just a few minutes—” Ben said, raising his brows and smiling, “—I’ll be in charge.”
Layla tried to look thoughtful. “Oh, that’s right. Do you want to see me tomorrow night?”
Ben laughed and shook his head. “Do I want to see you? You’d better go get some rest, Cupcake, cause I’m gonna do a lot more than see you tomorrow night.”
***
Something wet against her arm made Layla draw it back under the covers of her bed. Was it Saturday morning? Ugh. Friday. She had to get up.
She felt a nudge and opened her eyes to see Prince’s front paws up on the bed. It had been either his tongue or his nose encouraging her to get moving.
“Okay, I’m coming,” she muttered, throwing the covers aside. She found a pair of shorts and a t-shirt and slipped them on for the morning walk. Grabbing her phone on the way out the door, she saw a waiting message that made her grin.
You’re officially all mine.
Ben’s words sent a tingle of excitement through her. She’d enjoyed her two weeks, but she was almost looking forward to his more, though she’d never admit it. The thought of Ben getting exactly what he wanted from her was surprisingly hot.
She took Prince around the block, stopping for coffee at a small shop that didn’t mind her bringing him in. After she got home, she showered and blew out her hair, dressing in black linen pants and a white button down shirt with capped sleeves. She’d be in the office all day, so she didn’t have to dress as formally as she did for court.
Should she write Ben back? Probably. She pushed her sunglasses on as she walked out to her car.
I’m rested and ready. What are we doing tonight?
Ben wrote back before she’d pulled into traffic.
We can go out for dinner.
Meet at O’Malley’s at 7?
I’ll take you somewhere nicer…
Did he want to take her somewhere nicer because they were having sex tonight? Layla felt apprehensive and excited about the thought at the same time as she typed.
I like O’Malley’s.
Okay. Got a busy day?
Lots of meetings. You?
Teaching a class today. Looking forward to tonight.
Me too.
Layla walked into her office at 7:15 and was surprised when Roz Meyer, one of the firm’s partners, came in as soon as she arrived.
“Can we talk?” It was more statement than question, and she sat down before Layla could answer.
“Of course.” Layla admired Roz, one of only two female partners in the firm. She was a distance runner with a wiry frame and spiky silver hair. Her green eyes bored into Layla, the dark frames of her glasses not lessening how unnerving it was.
“You’ve been here for almost a year, and your work has been outstanding,” Roz said. “
I lobbied for your hire – you know that. I saw a lot of myself in you; you’re ambitious, intelligent and not intimidated by even the most domineering of men.”
“Why doesn’t this feel like a compliment?” Layla grabbed a pen from her desk and toyed with it.
Roz gave a small smile. “I wanted you to know where I’m coming from. You’ve got a promising future here, Layla. In areas other junior attorneys struggle, you don’t. You’re decisive, but deferential when you need to be. Colson said it was you who made the find on the Brighton case, but that you gave him the credit.”
“Well, yeah . . . I work under him on that case so that was the right thing to do.” Layla gave Roz a confused look.
Roz leaned forward in her chair as she spoke. “It was the right thing, but a lot of junior attorneys don’t get that. Just last week that kid Robin whatever his last name is told a client that Hoover made a mistake on their case.”
Layla drew a hand to her mouth.
“I know.” Roz held a hand up. “It’s taken care of. Layla, you’re the junior the partners want to work with.”
“But?” Layla raised her brows, knowing Roz hadn’t reached the point yet.
“But there’s been talk about the hours you’re working lately. The other juniors say you’re the first one out of here every night.”
“I’m also the first one in here every fucking morning, but they aren’t here to see that, are they?”
Roz’ tight-lipped grin widened. “You might consider coming in closer to when they do.”
Layla shook her head and looked away. “Why does it matter?”
“There are juniors who work past ten every night. Some of them actually use the cots in their offices.” She arched her brows and eyed the small closet where Layla’s unused cot was folded and stored.
“I’m not sleeping on that nasty thing,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “I can’t just lay down here and get up and start working the next morning. I’ve got a dog to take care of and I have to take my makeup off at night and get ready the next day. Do you know what I’d look like if I slept here?”
“Don’t mention the dog to anyone else, Layla. Others here have children they never see. I’m here as a friend, trying to give you a heads-up before this becomes an issue. Right now it’s just talk.”
“I never work less than 60 hours a week.” Layla knew her tone was defensive, but she couldn’t help it.
“Others work 80. You’re never here on weekends. Just make an effort, okay?”
“It frustrates the hell out of me that seven to seven is considered less of a work day than ten to ten,” Layla said. “But okay, I’ll see what I can do about weekends. Thanks for looking out for me.”
“It’s still a man’s world, Layla. It’s complete bullshit, but we have to work harder than they do. And the first few years here are murder, whether you’re a man or a woman.”
“I know.”
“My door is always open to you. I’m in your corner.”
“Thank you.”
The conversation stayed on her mind all morning, and Layla’s blood was still boiling when she went out to the main office area for coffee at 9:45 and saw Chad Burlington, another junior attorney, arriving at the office for the day with his briefcase in hand. She narrowed her eyes at him.
“Morning, sunshine,” he muttered.
“Is it still morning? I’ve been here for hours, it seems like it should be afternoon by now,” she said, turning back toward her office.
She had lunch delivered because she was still brooding then, and she didn’t trust herself not to be a bitch to anyone she encountered in the office. For afternoon meetings, she put on her game face.
When Layla left work at six, she paused to wave through the hallway windows of the offices of every junior attorney she passed. Her anger had turned into obnoxiousness over the course of the day. Fuck all of them.
After a quick walk with Prince, she changed into frayed jean shorts and a red tank top. She’d fit in much better at the pub in her comfortable clothes and flip-flops.
As soon as she walked in, her gaze went right to the pool tables, and Ben’s eyes were already locked on her when she saw him. She looked down, oddly self-conscious. Knowing this six and a half feet of muscled, dimpled, blue-eyed perfection wanted her felt too good to be true.
“Looking good, boss,” he said as she approached.
“Shouldn’t I be calling you that now?” She raised her brows and grinned. Ben threw back his head and laughed.
“You call me that and I’ll have to throw you over my shoulder and take you home right now,” he said. Layla squeezed her thighs together, enjoying the jolt created by his words.
“We can’t have that,” she said, leaning back against a tall table.
“Have a seat,” a man at the table said, smiling. She glanced at him, seeing that he was a strapping young blond man, leaning in his chair just a little for a better look at her rack.
“She’s good,” Ben answered curtly. “We’re gonna get dinner.”
“Hey, Sergeant Montrose!” the blond man said. “You remember me? Cody Barth? You taught my combat technique class at the academy.”
“No, man, those classes are huge, it’s hard to remember everyone,” Ben said. Cody sprang up and reached out to shake Ben’s hand.
“I just started on patrol last month,” he said. “This is my friend Peak, he’s new, too.”
A twenty something with short dark hair and a more average build jumped up and shook Ben’s hand, too.
“Welcome to the Chicago PD, guys,” Ben said.
“Are you in patrol?” Peak asked.
“No, Investigations.”
“Man, I want to be a detective,” Cody said. “You have any advice for me?”
“Just kick ass on patrol and keep your head down,” Ben said, glancing at Layla.
“Do you have time for a beer? Or some pool?” Cody asked.
“Uh …” Ben ran a hand through his hair.
“Sure he does,” Layla answered. “We’re in no hurry.”
“Is this your wife?” Cody extended his hand toward Layla.
“No,” she said, smiling. “Hi, I’m Layla.” She sat down in the wood chair Cody had vacated, pulling out her phone to check text messages.
“What are you doing? You’re playing, too,” Ben said, reaching for a cue and leaning it toward her.
“I’ve never played pool.” She shook her head emphatically. “I’ll watch you guys.”
“Come on, I’ll teach you.” His deep, commanding voice made her eager to obey, but she reminded herself she was not the compliant type.
“You don’t need an excuse to rub against my ass, you can do that all you want later,” she said.
“I’ll do a hell of a lot more than rub against it, baby.” Ben’s seductive smirk made her wish she’d worn a padded bra that would hide her arousal. “But for now we’re gonna play some pool.”
“Okay.” She took the cue.
“Hold it like this,” he said, placing her fingers on the cue. Layla wrapped her hand around it and stroked up and down rhythmically.
“Like this?” she asked innocently. Ben’s hot breath hit her ear as he laughed and smacked her ass lightly.
“Behave,” he growled. “I don’t want anyone else watching you do that.”
Layla suppressed a smile as she let him guide her fingers around the cue. When it was her turn, he leaned behind her and showed her how to shoot. His warm body against hers was bliss, and she hoped he’d stay right where he was while she shot.
“Damn, you always smell so good, woman,” he said in her ear softly. The heat of his body moved away from hers and she wanted him to return. She blew out a breath, trying to focus on the game.
Shoot the ball, Layla. Keep it on the table. Don’t make a fool of yourself.
She didn’t put enough muscle into it, and her first shot barely moved the balls on the table.
“Dammit,” she swore, smacking the bot
tom of the cue against the floor.
“Don’t worry about it, we’re partners and I’m not bad,” Ben said, grinning. “I’m starving so I ordered us some pizza. Got you some of that wine you like.”
“Okay.” Layla’s inner voice wanted to be irritated that he’d ordered for both of them, but surprisingly, she liked it. Knowing he had considered her felt … intimate, and maybe even sweet.
Ben studied the table methodically when it was his turn, and Layla admired his bright blue eyes and the lines of his arms and chest beneath his t-shirt. She wanted to get her hands on those lines, and all his other ones, too. It was finally Ben’s two weeks, which meant the torturous wait for sex was over.
“Hi, I’m Baxter,” a powerful-looking man with sandy hair and brown eyes said, extending his hand. “I’m in Investigations, too.”
“Hey,” she said, shaking his hand.
“You and Big Ben together?” he asked, his fingers lingering around hers.
“I don’t know … not technically,” she said, scrunching her face in confusion.
“Cool. You want a drink?” Baxter asked.
“I’ve got one coming.”
“So what do you do, Layla?” He stared at her breasts as he waited for a response.
“I’m an attorney.”
His brows shot up. “Really? Never would have guessed that.”
“What, attorneys can’t have big boobs?” she challenged.
“No … I mean, yes. I don’t know what I mean.” He rubbed the stubble on his chin as he looked at her and grinned.
Layla felt Ben’s solid form against her back and she glanced up at him as he snaked an arm around her waist.
“Did we win?” she asked.
“Not yet. Can I talk to you for a minute?”
“Yeah.” She trailed behind him as he held her fingers lightly in his and led her through the loud, crowded pub. They pushed through a line of women waiting for the bathroom in a narrow hallway and Ben opened a dark metal door that led outside to an alley.
The muggy summer night air warmed Layla’s bare arms and legs as soon as she stepped outside. Ben’s arms swept around her before she realized what was happening, picking her up and pressing her back to a brick wall. Her heart pounded with a mix of fear and excitement as her feet dangled uselessly in the air. She was pinned; at his mercy.
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