Nine-tenths of the Law

by L. A. Witt

  We’ll just have to talk without making a sound.

  Chewing my lip, keeping my gaze fixed on the screen, I reached across the armrest and put my hand on his knee. He sucked in a breath, but neither recoiled nor pushed me away. After a moment, the warmth of his hand over mine sent goose bumps prickling up my arm.

  The hand on mine told me he wanted to touch me. The tip of his thumb running along the inside of my wrist told me he wasn’t touching nearly enough.

  I turned toward him, and he met my eyes. Darkness eclipsed half his face, the shifting light from the screen only sporadically illuminating the other, but the desire in his expression was unmistakable.

  His other hand appeared out of the shadows a second before it touched my face. It was surreal, this soft touch of his. There was nothing rough or angry about it, nothing but gentle contact. And when his fingertips drew me toward him, his kiss was just as sensual.

  When his tongue gently parted my lips, cool mint tempered the taste of smoke. He was nervous enough to need a cigarette before he came in, but he’d obviously thought this through. He wasn’t surprised to be kissing me now. Whether he knew it would happen or not, he’d hoped it would.

  I wondered how much more he hoped would happen.

  The longer he kissed me, the less I could believe this was the same man. I had to run my fingers over his goatee just to remind myself that, yes, this was Nathan. I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised. After all, I was a different person the other night, too.

  Even still, I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe he was here.

  I broke the kiss, but still touched his face. Whispering just loud enough for him to hear me without disturbing anyone else, I said, “You know, it’s a crime to sit through a Bertolucci film without paying attention.”

  “Maybe so.” His fingers ran through my hair and he leaned closer. “But it would be sacrilege not to kiss you right now, so I’ll take the lesser of two evils.” And he kissed me again.

  A clatter and some muffled voices from the projector room caught my attention, reminding me that I was still at work. I glared up at the window, wondering what my employees were destroying now, then looked back at Nathan.

  “I should get back to work,” I whispered.

  “What time are you off tonight?”

  I smiled. “I own the place. When and where?”

  He laughed and kissed me gently. Turning away slightly, he reached into his pocket, then slipped a small card into my hand. In my ear, he whispered, “I’ll be home around seven. Any time after that.”

  “I’ll be there.” I kissed him one last time and stood.

  As soon as I was in the hall leading out to the lobby, I stopped, taking a few deep breaths to undo all the tension and arousal that Nathan’s gentle touch-hell, his presence-had sparked. I couldn’t believe it. He was here!

  With the aid of the small flashlight I carried, I looked at the card in my hand. It was one of his business cards.

  Nathan D. Forrester-Attorney At Law

  Jesus. Even seeing his name was enough to make my pulse jump. I flipped the card over, and on the back, he’d written his address and phone number.

  I clicked off the light and slipped the card in my pocket.

  Pre-written card with his address.

  Mint to mask the taste of his nerve-calming cigarette.

  You planned well ahead, didn’t you, Nathan?

  I took a few more deep breaths, willing myself to be calm until I saw him again. In just a few hours. At his place. In his bed. Soon. Not nearly soon enough.

  Zach, calm down. Gotta work. He’ll be there.

  When I could finally step out into the light of day without letting anyone know what was on my mind, I went into the projector room to see who I needed to strangle.

  Chapter Nine

  Throughout the day, I tried to throw myself into my work rather than think about Nathan, but that was virtually impossible.

  His card was burning a hole in my pocket. Every time an auditorium door opened, my heart jumped into my throat in anticipation of his presence even though he’d left hours ago. When I went into the third auditorium to deal with a problem patron, I swore I saw Nathan’s silhouette out of the corner of my eye. I tried chewing a piece of gum to settle my nerves-something I’d always done since I quit smoking-but the mint reminded me too much of Nathan’s kiss. For the first time in years, gum had the exact opposite effect and wound me up that much more.

  Good thing Nathan was a smoker. If the taste of a cigarette didn’t have “Nathan” written all over it, I might very well have broken six years of not smoking today.

  As the afternoon wore on and the clock inched dangerously close to six, when I intended to leave, my excitement gave way to nerves.

  What was this about? Did he just want another one-night stand? Something to get over Jake? Or did he specifically want me? Did this have anything at all to do with Jake?

  Drumming my fingers on my desk, I looked at the paperwork in front of me with unfocused eyes. Staring, not seeing. I wasn’t even sure why I bothered trying to work at all. Every word on the page was Nathan’s name, and every number was his phone number or his address.

  This couldn’t be a good idea, hooking up with him. Even if it was just another one-night stand, he probably hated me. Though it was Jake’s infidelity that ended both relationships, I was sure Nathan still partly blamed me.

  But that kiss in the auditorium was anything but angry. He’d kissed me like he wanted to kiss me.

  I chewed my lip, still staring through my paperwork. Nothing good could come of this, could it?

  I pulled his card out of my pocket and stared at his address and phone number. There were two choices: Call the number and cancel, or drive to the address and see what happened.

  Something deep down told me that the wiser choice was to call him and back out. The lingering mint of my gum told me how much I wanted another taste of his kiss, regardless of the consequences.

  I leaned back in my chair and looked at the clock over the door. Six o’clock was still an agonizing, merciful half hour away. Too soon to know if this was a good idea. Not nearly soon enough to satisfy this craving.

  The minutes passed by too fast and too slow, and before I knew it, it was finally six. I grabbed my jacket and headed for the door, not sure if I was more excited or nervous about this. All the way home, I worried about it even while the anticipation of his kiss made my mouth water.

  I took a quick shower and changed clothes. The whole time I shaved, I tried to ignore my own scrutiny, avoiding eye contact with my reflection. It was easier to convince myself this was a good idea if I didn’t have to look myself in the eye.

  By the time I was out the door, it was quarter to seven. I guessed from his address that he was about fifteen minutes away, so my timing would be perfect. I’d be right on time.

  Fifteen minutes was short enough to keep me from overanalyzing the situation and convincing myself this was a bad idea. It was also too long to wait to see him again.

  A few second thoughts tried to cross my mind, but I pushed them aside. I wanted this. Whether I needed it or not, whether it was a good idea or not, I really didn’t care.

  But what if he’d had second thoughts in the hours since we parted ways? If I was this conflicted about seeing him, about sleeping with him again, I could only imagine what was going through his mind. Then again, he’d sought me out. If he’d had any agonizing to do about it, he’d likely done it well before he stepped into The Epidauran with a pre-written note and mint to temper the taste of smoke in his mouth.

  He wanted this. I wanted this. That wasn’t all that mattered, but it was all I gave a damn about.

  Fifteen minutes after I left, I pulled into Nathan’s driveway and parked in front of the garage door. The creak of my parking brake raised goose bumps all the way up my spine.

  I’m here. This is it.

  Thankfully there were only a few steps from the driveway to his front porch.
Just thinking about him, knowing he was this close, was already giving me a hard-on.

  As soon as the door was within reach, I knocked. No hesitation. No last-second pre-regret. I was here and I wasn’t turning back, so why delay it?

  He opened the door and all the air around us disappeared. I held what little breath I had left. For all my worry and uncertainty over the last few hours, there was one thing that hadn’t crossed my mind: I’d never seen him like this.

  No harsh shadows to hide his features. No anger to darken his eyes and tighten his lips. No black cloud of Jake hanging over us.

  In the fading light of day, without the mask of fury, his face was sharply angled in all the right places and smooth in all the others. When one side of his mouth lifted just slightly, the barely there grin emphasized the unmistakable lust in his eyes.

  We stood in still, stunned silence for a long moment before something seemed to jar him back to life. He stepped aside, gesturing for me to come in. I walked past him, sucking in a breath when he shut the door behind us.

  The grind-click of the deadbolt knocked that breath right back out. The sound wasn’t threatening, not the sound of an implied imprisonment.

  It simply made everything about this real.

  Inevitable.

  Right.

  Chapter Ten

  Hands on my hips made my spine straighten, and my knees nearly buckled. Following my belt, his hands moved from my hips to my stomach, but I lost track of them when he exhaled softly against the side of my neck. He kissed just above my collar, his lips lingering there long enough for him to draw and release a few more slow, deep breaths, letting each in turn whisper across my skin.

  I reached back, combing my fingers through his hair as he kissed his way up my neck. My other hand sought and found his, the warmth of his skin tingling against my fingertips. He pulled me closer to him, his hard cock pressing against me and making the ache below my own belt almost unbearable.

  When his lips left my neck and his arms suddenly released me, I exhaled hard as if I’d been holding my breath. Maybe I had been. All I knew or cared about was that he wasn’t touching me anymore. Just before I could panic at the sudden inch of space between us, he put his hands on my shoulders and gently turned me around to face him.

  He leaned in as if to kiss me, but paused, just looking at me. At my lips, I think. He touched my face, running his thumb just below my cheekbone. I briefly regretted shaving, wishing I could feel the gentle hiss of skin across stubble, but that thought evaporated-along with my balance-when our eyes met.

  Though we’d certainly kissed a few times already, there was something electric about the distance between us now, about the anticipation of this kiss.

  When he drew me in, my pulse jumped with each fraction of an inch that disappeared between us, until our lips were almost touching. His thumb moved below my cheekbone again, that gentle contact distracting me for a fleeting second, just long enough so that when he kissed me, he caught me by surprise. The startled shiver that ran down my spine pushed me closer to him, and he welcomed me with a tighter embrace, a deeper kiss.

  His mouth was cool with the suggestion of mint, and every breath I took was him: musky, masculine, a vague hint of cologne. His fingers moved from my face into my hair while his other hand followed my spine down to my lower back. Once there, he didn’t pull me closer, didn’t draw me against him. Instead, he held me in place and pressed his hips against mine, letting me feel the heat of his erection even through both of our clothes. I was sure that when skin finally touched skin, we’d burn each other, but I was more than willing to go up in smoke if it meant touching him.

  I slid my hands under the back of his shirt, but couldn’t be sure whose gasp broke the kiss. Our mouths separated, but we didn’t. He rested his forehead against mine, closing his eyes and taking an uneven breath as my hands moved farther up his back.

  “Jesus,” he breathed. His voice, barely more than a whisper, startled me, and it took a moment to realize it was because that was the first thing either of us had said since I’d arrived. Since hours ago, at the theatre. Since I’d spent half the day wondering if this was a bad idea.

  I swallowed hard as he kissed my neck. “Are you sure we should be doing this?”

  “No,” he whispered against my neck. “In fact, I’m pretty sure we shouldn’t.” His hands slid under my shirt as he raised his head and looked me in the eye. “But I want to.” He kissed me again. Passionately. Breathlessly. Desperately.

  I’m supposed to think this is wrong.

  His fingers trembled, then tightened in my hair, as if he was afraid I’d pull away.

  If this is wrong, I don’t remember why.

  His lips barely leaving mine, his voice wavering as if he was on the verge of losing control, he whispered, “I want you so fucking bad, Zach.”

  If this is wrong, I don’t care.

  “I’m not going anywhere,” I said.

  In a low, ragged growl, he said, “Thank God.” The pad of his thumb ran along my jaw and his hand rested on the side of my neck. “I don’t even know why I left last time.”

  “Because we were there for all the wrong reasons?”

  He shrugged, then nodded. “Probably. But that was then. This is now.”

  Something in my mind relaxed, as if up until that moment, I wasn’t sure why we were here. If we were here for the same reasons as before, or if this was something else.

  “This isn’t about Jake anymore, is it?” I said quietly.

  He smiled and kissed me. “Not even a little. The other night had everything to do with that son of a bitch.” He ran his fingers through my hair and kissed me lightly. “Tonight has nothing to do with anyone outside this room.” He paused. “And speaking of which, I think we should take this into another room.”

  I said nothing, only nodded. I was in his house. In his arms. Now moving into his bedroom. Each time we moved closer to the inevitable, it startled me as if I kept expecting us to step back instead of forward. Or expected him to come to his senses, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to.

  The bedroom was on the second floor. The whole way up the stairs and down the hall, we could barely keep our hands off each other. Halfway up the stairs, I stopped and pulled him into a kiss, using the wall for balance when I couldn’t quite rely on my legs. A few steps later, he gently leaned me against the wall and squeezed my hard, aching cock through my jeans. More than once I was certain we wouldn’t make it to the bedroom before one of us pulled the other to the floor, especially when we stopped a few feet shy of the bedroom door for another breathless kiss.

  Without breaking the kiss, he shifted his weight to one side, then the other. A dull thud told me he’d kicked his shoes off. Probably shoved them aside so we wouldn’t trip over them.

  First article of clothing off. I pulled him closer. This is really happening. With the toe of one shoe, I pushed off the other, kicking it aside. Then the other. My foot brushed against his and even that warmth, that contact, took my breath away. Christ, Nathan, what are you doing to me?

  He broke the kiss, but was still close enough that his breath whispered across my lips when he spoke. “We should-” He cut himself off, kissing me again.

  “Should-” I kissed him. I couldn’t get enough. Finally, I managed, “Should what?” But I couldn’t wait for an answer before I sought his mouth again, tangling my fingers in his hair as I kissed him.

  “Bedroom,” he finally murmured, but he made no effort to move. I couldn’t move until he did. Even then, I wasn’t so sure I could.

  After a moment, he stepped back, but still made no move toward the bedroom. Instead, he just looked at me, at his own hands running up my sides, his face mirroring my own desperation and disbelief.

  His hands came together at my collar, and a second later, the first button was undone. As he went for the next, our eyes met, and the unmistakable hunger and lust in his made me thankful again for the wall keeping me upright.

  His ey
es were in a hurry, but his hands were in control. He unfastened each button of my shirt as if he were making contact with erogenous zones on my skin: slow, steady, one at a time. Maybe he did it to keep his hands from shaking. For the life of me I couldn’t figure out how he stayed so steady, so in control, when it took everything I had just to stay standing.

  His hands followed my shirt over my shoulders and down my arms. In the same moment my shirt fell away, his lips found my neck and he slid his hand between my back and the wall. When he kissed me again, his other hand held the side of my neck, the warmth of both skin and lips making my breath catch. His hand trailed down my chest as his tongue explored my mouth.

  There was something incredibly erotic about his gentle touch, more than anything I’d ever experienced. Everything we’d done before was desperate, primal, even violent, but this was different. That was black, this was white. This was the slow caress of what I’d thought was an unforgiving hand.

  I thought I loved the way his skin felt on my own, but it was the muted brush of fingertips on denim that damn near made me come. His fingers drifted over my cock through my clothes, applying just a hint of pressure, just enough to say yes, I will. And I wanted him to.

  “Oh, my God,” I breathed, letting my head fall back against the wall. The vibration of the separating zipper made me tremble with anticipation.

  “My sentiments exactly.” He kissed my neck and continued to draw the zipper down.

  My hands went from his shoulders to the wall beside me, trying in vain to grab the plaster for support. I desperately wanted to touch him and pull him closer, but the need for balance trumped even that.

  “You know, I made a colossal mistake last time.” His fingers closed around my cock.

  “I didn’t think you-” I paused, my breath catching as he stroked me. “I didn’t think you did a damned thing wrong.”

  “Oh, I did,” he said, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke. “As far as I knew, I was never going to see you again…” He tightened his grasp, still stroking. “…and I missed the chance to see you come.”