Nine-tenths of the Law

by L. A. Witt

  “Still want to come by?” His tone was unreadable. There was an invitation in his words, but something else I couldn’t quite place.

  “I, um, sure,” I said. “Are you sure it’s not too late?”

  “Nah, it’s not too late.” There it was again. Some hidden subtext. Some hidden…something. “Assuming it’s not too late for you?”

  “Not at all,” I said. “Give me about half an hour to square a few things away and get my employees out of here, then I’ll head your way.”

  “See you then,” he said, though he didn’t sound overly thrilled about the idea. After I hung up, I looked at my phone and chewed the inside of my cheek. Then I shrugged. Whatever it was, he’d be easier to read in person.

  I clipped my phone to my belt and went into the box office to take care of some last-minute paperwork. Hopefully I was imagining whatever I thought I heard in Nathan’s voice. All I knew for sure was that, after the day I’d had, there was nothing in the world I needed more than a night with him.

  I shivered at the thought. There weren’t many things a night with Nathan couldn’t cure. And soon, that was exactly what I’d be having. Just a few more papers, a few more things to tidy up, and I could get the hell out of here and-

  Someone tapped on the window. I glared at the opaque window shade. I couldn’t see the person on the other side, and fortunately, they couldn’t see me, so they didn’t know if there was someone in the box office or not.

  Another tap on the window.

  I rolled my eyes and whispered, “What part of ‘closed’ do you people not understand?” Any time the light was on in the box office, even when the shades were drawn and the closed sign was out, people assumed someone was here. There was a time when I’d help anyone who came up to the window, but a few nights of being here way past closing time just to explain our showings for the next few weeks had broken that habit. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to volunteer myself for anything that might keep me away from Nathan a moment longer.

  I carefully moved papers so they wouldn’t hear me. Sooner or later, they’d leave. Hopefully sooner, because I needed to get the hell out of here. As long as someone was standing outside, I ran the risk of getting caught up in a conversation if I tried to leave, so I figured I’d wait them out. I couldn’t even turn the light off yet, because then they would know someone was here.

  Voices murmured outside. Shoes scuffed on pavement, but it sounded more like someone shifting their weight or fidgeting than walking away. Get out of here, you’re keeping me from Nathan.

  A full fifteen minutes went by before the persistent bastards gave up and left. As soon as they were out of earshot, I grabbed my jacket, turned off the light and headed for the door. It took everything I had not to sprint to my car. Not only was I in a hurry, but the entire world seemed to be conspiring to keep me away from Nathan tonight, and I intended to deny it every possible opportunity to do it again.

  I was certain I’d have a flat tire, or the car wouldn’t start, or some gremlins would have stolen my key off the ring, but the tires were inflated, the key was still there and the engine turned over without hesitation.

  “Thank God,” I whispered aloud. My tires squealed as I peeled out of the parking lot, and for the duration of the drive to Nathan’s, the universe didn’t put anything else in my way.

  It didn’t dare.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  It was nearly midnight when I finally pulled into Nathan’s driveway. As I got out of the car and went up the front steps, I swore if that projector cut into my sex life again, it was going to learn the meaning of “percussive maintenance”.

  Nathan greeted me at the door with a tired smile and a brief kiss that tasted like smoke. Recent smoke.

  “Coffee?” he asked.

  “Please,” I said, and followed him into the kitchen.

  “So what happened tonight? At the theatre?” he asked, pouring coffee as I took my jacket off.

  I sighed. “Fucking projector. Crapped out completely this time, and we’ve got a big indie film festival this weekend, so we finally bit the bullet and moved it to one of the smaller auditoriums.”

  “I thought you fixed it yesterday.”

  “I did,” I said. “I fix the bastard three or four times a week these days. Now I think it’s done for good.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t had to stay late to take care of it more often, then,” he said.

  I shrugged. “Well, it-” Then I stopped. I replayed what he’d just said in my mind. No, there couldn’t have been a thinly veiled accusation in his tone. Clearing my throat, I shifted my weight. “It doesn’t always break down at night, you know.”

  “Mm-hmm.” He nodded, eyeing me with something that looked a hell of a lot like suspicion. “So what’s wrong with it, anyway?”

  I raised an eyebrow, wondering if that tired smile from earlier wasn’t tired after all but half-hearted. Forced. “Are you actually curious about the projector, or are you trying to catch me in a lie?”

  He blinked, then folded his arms across his chest and shrugged. “Should I be trying to catch you in a lie?”

  “Jesus,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead with my thumb and forefinger. “Nathan, it-”

  “Is there anything I should know about?”

  I took a deep breath and tried to stay calm. I was entirely too exhausted and frustrated to be cross-examined by a damned lawyer. “I could give you a rundown of how to repair a projector, but it would probably bore you into a coma.”

  His lips tightened into that almost-snarling line I remembered from the night we met. “Call me paranoid,” he said. “But I’ve heard the ‘I have to work late’ line more than once.”

  “And you do know that some people do have to work late, right?”

  “Some do,” he said, glaring at me. “And some don’t.”

  “What do you want me to say? I’ve given you absolutely no reason to believe I’d fuck around. What do I have to do to convince you to trust me?”

  “I don’t know, Zach,” he said. “I mean, look at how things got started with-”

  “That doesn’t matter!” I snapped. “Jake cheated. On you and on me. I don’t know how many ways I can convince you that I didn’t know about you, but-” Something shifted in his expression, the skepticism in his eyes deepening, and it infuriated me.

  “How do I know you’re not playing me for an idiot right along with him?”

  My jaw went slack. “What? You think I’m cheating, and you think I’m doing it with him?”

  He shrugged, the intensity in his glare not faltering for a second.

  “Christ, Nathan,” I said, barely containing my anger. “If I still wanted that bastard, do you really think I’d have ditched him in the bar and come after you that night?”

  Dropping his gaze, he said nothing.

  “Don’t you get it? Why do you think I came after you that night?”

  “Why did you?”

  “Because I wanted to apologize. Because I felt bad. I still do.” I shifted my weight. “But I’m not going to keep apologizing if it’s falling on deaf ears. I’m sorry you were hurt, but so was I. You’re blaming the wrong guy.” I took a breath, trying to keep my temper in check, but I was close to losing it. “I told you in the beginning. I run a goddamned business. Late nights happen.”

  “Do you know how many times he was ‘working late’ and actually went to you?”

  “And how many times have I lied about working late to go to him?” I threw back. “He was the liar, Nathan, not me.” He started to respond, but I wasn’t finished. “We aren’t even in an exclusive relationship, for God’s sake. This was supposed to be a rebound thing, not playing for keeps. What would I possibly have to gain by lying to you if I was sleeping with someone else? If I wanted to see other people, I’d fucking tell you.”

  “So are you?”

  “No!” I threw up my hands. “Fuck, how much clearer can I make it?” I paused, trying to calm down. Through my teeth
, I said, “Let me ask you this: Have I ever given you any reason to doubt me? Have I given you any reason to think I’m lying to you?”

  “No, you haven’t, but-”

  “When does this stop being about Jake and start being about us?”

  “If you’d spent four years with someone, only to find out they’d been fucking cheating on you for God only knows how long, you’d be a bit suspicious, too.”

  “And you seem to forget that I was cheated on, too.”

  He snorted. “Try living through that for four years.”

  “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” I clenched my jaw. “Because I only dealt with it for six months, it doesn’t matter? It didn’t hurt? It means I’m just as guilty as he is?”

  And it just continued, back and forth, around and around, neither of us willing to back down nor cut the other any slack. All the while, as our voices rose, something in the back of my mind told me there was no point. This wasn’t supposed to be anything serious. I shouldn’t have had nearly enough invested in this little fling to bother fighting like this. I didn’t understand what drove me to keep arguing. What did I possibly have to gain? Then again, it was probably just stubbornness. I could argue anyone into the ground. In fact, I’d long been told I should have been a lawyer, and here I was arguing with a lawyer.

  It didn’t matter who was right or wrong anymore. It just mattered whose stubbornness could outlast whose, and I wasn’t about to give up easily, particularly not when my integrity was called into question. I had nothing to lose except my pride.

  Did I?

  Why, then, did my heart skip every time his eyes darted toward the door? Why did I feel like my entire world hung in the balance whenever he paused?

  And still it escalated until, even though we were just inches apart, standing toe to toe, I couldn’t hear him anymore. I couldn’t hear him over myself and I couldn’t hear myself over him. Everything we said disappeared into shapeless noise, abstract strings of words that didn’t amount to anything because no one was listening.

  Something in my mind begged us to stop, to quiet the anger and just listen to each other, but neither of us backed down. The only thing that ever stopped either of us was the need to pause and inhale, but that took only a split second each time.

  Something had to give. Someone had to stop this. One of us. Either of us. Somehow, some way, this had to-

  I kissed him.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  We were both still.

  The front of his shirt was bunched in my hands and his lips were against mine, but neither of us moved. Neither of us breathed.

  My heart thundered in my chest, but the space around us was silent. My mind raced. I’d succeeded in quieting us, in halting the argument in its tracks, even if it was only for a second. He hadn’t pulled away, but I had no idea what was going to happen next.

  I broke the kiss, but didn’t release his shirt. We stared at each other, taking rapid, shallow breaths, as out of breath from the kiss as from the shouting.

  His gaze locked on mine, Nathan swallowed hard. His lips thinned into the familiar taut, bleached line. For a moment, I regretted making that move. This silent faceoff was more unnerving than the arguing had been.

  All at once, his hands went to the sides of my face and he kissed me, the sheer force of his advance knocking me backward. The counter stopped me, but I couldn’t decide whether or not it hurt because my every sense was focused on his kiss.

  There was nothing gentle about the way he kissed me. His mouth tasted of smoke, just as I’d suspected, and every movement of his lips and tongue was demanding, even violent. I let go of his shirt and grabbed the sides of his neck, holding on to him the way he held my face, not caring if my fingers dug in, only that he stayed here. Stayed right here.

  I put my foot against the cabinet behind me and used it as leverage to force both of us away from the counter. The opposite counter caught us, knocking a grunt-of surprise? Pain?-out of him. He faltered for only a second though, growling into my kiss and grasping my hair so hard it hurt.

  This beat the hell out of screaming at each other, but it wasn’t over yet. We were both too angry to see reason, and that anger needed an outlet. Some sort of release. We’d both already said too much, even if neither of us had heard a damned thing, so talking-if we could call it that-wasn’t helping. Short of calling it quits and parting ways, there was only one way we were going to see the other side of this, and that was to relieve this tension.

  And if that meant fucking when we could barely stand the sight of each other, then so be it.

  We moved out of the kitchen, stumbling toward the stairs as we fought to get out of our clothing. He almost knocked me off my feet when he pulled my belt free. I very nearly tore some buttons off of his shirt.

  On the way down the hall, I shoved his shirt off his shoulders. He jerked his hands free of the sleeves and grabbed the back of my neck, keeping me from pulling away as he kissed me. My back slammed against the wall, knocking the air out of my lungs, but it wasn’t enough to make me break this violent kiss. Something crashed, but I couldn’t tell if it was because we’d collided with it or if a thrown piece of clothing knocked it over, and I really didn’t give a shit.

  I reached up to grasp his hair, but my fingers ran through it slowly, almost tenderly. He shuddered and loosened his grip on the back of my neck. Moving together, slower now, we inched closer to the stairs. On the way up, I took my shirt off, and when we reached the top, I tossed it aside just before I pushed him up against the wall and kissed him.

  The more we kissed and the less clothing there was to divide us, the slower we moved. Our hands quieted. Every kiss was gentler than the one before. When we sank into bed together, the rage was gone. We simply wanted each other now. Needed each other.

  Somewhere between the kitchen and the bedroom, we had become lovers again.

  I rolled him onto his back and raised myself over him on one arm. With my free hand, I ran my fingertips down the sides of his face. Were we really screaming at each other downstairs?

  His lips parted as if he was about to say something, but he drew only half a breath, the air catching in his throat when his eyes met mine. Whatever he thought to say, he must have thought better of it, because instead of speaking, he did the same thing he’d done in the kitchen a lifetime ago: Put his hands on my face-gently this time-and kissed me, sitting up to meet me halfway before we both fell slowly back to the bed.

  This kiss had every bit of the breathless fervor from earlier, but none of the anger. No violence, no demands.

  It was his turn to change position, easing me onto my back without breaking the kiss once. When his torso shifted slightly, I didn’t have to look to know what he was reaching for. The familiar sound of the nightstand drawer made me shiver with anticipation.

  Only then did he break the kiss, our eyes meeting as he tore the wrapper with his teeth. Whatever had happened downstairs, we’d deal with eventually. As far as this moment was concerned, we were on the same page, and that was good enough for me.

  Sitting up, he quickly rolled the condom on and put some lube on it. Then, he guided his cock to me. I bit my lip, trying not to shake with anticipation.

  “Oh, my God,” he said as he slid into me. Even more than the physical sensations, it was his voice that made my breath catch and, for a moment, I didn’t understand why. Then I realized it was the first thing either of us had said since I’d kissed him into silence. The last thing out of either of our mouths had been angry screaming. The next thing out of his was a breathy whisper of arousal.

  Our eyes met and he came down to kiss me as his hips found a steady, fluid rhythm. How long we moved like that, I couldn’t say. All I knew was how incredible he felt and tasted and smelled and how the hell is this the same person I was fighting with?

  “Oh, Jesus,” he moaned. “You feel so good…”

  “So do you,” I whispered, holding on to his shoulders as he moved deeper inside me. He
did feel good. He felt incredible. Better than he ever had before.

  I touched his face and he turned to kiss my palm. It feels this good because you’re still here.

  “Oh, God,” he said, grimacing and shuddering. “Fuck, I’m so close, but I don’t want-” He gasped. “I don’t want to before you do.”

  My fingers dug into his shoulders and my back arched off the bed. “Just keep…” My eyes rolled back and electricity surged up my spine. “Just like that…”

  He thrust harder, groaning as another shudder drove him even deeper. “Oh, God, Zach, I can’t-”

  The entire world went white. I don’t know if either of us made a sound because the only thing that existed was the powerful orgasm that completely consumed every shred of my awareness. A low vibration worked its way into my consciousness-a voice, though I couldn’t be sure whose-and as the rest of the universe pieced itself back together around me, I realized he had slowed down. His rapid thrusts had been reduced to long, lazy strokes, each slower than the last until his hips only moved in a subtle, slurred imitation of everything he’d done before.

  He raised his head and we looked at each other, but still neither of us spoke. After a moment, he sank down to me, resting his head on my shoulders as I wrapped my arms around him. I ran my fingers through his hair, simply listening to him breathe for the longest time.

  I’m still here, every breath said. I’m not going anywhere.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  After Nathan got rid of the condom and we’d settled into bed, we faced each other, but didn’t speak right away. His hand rested on my face, his thumb gently stroking just below my cheekbone. Both the anger and lust in his eyes had quieted, replaced by confusion. Or sadness. Maybe both.

  Finally, he broke the silence.

  “Zach, I’m sorry about earlier,” he whispered. “I overreacted.”

  I put my hand over his. “Don’t sweat it. I shouldn’t have waited so late to call.”

  He shrugged as much as he could with one shoulder beneath him, but didn’t look at me. “Maybe, but I had no reason to think you’d be doing something like…” He trailed off.