“Fair enough.”
“What about you?”
“Same thing. Doesn’t really matter for me, either, but I usually try to get there between eight and nine o’clock. If I have morning appointments, they usually start around nine, so that’s the latest I try to get there. I’m almost always late anyway.”
He cocked an eyebrow with a grin. “Crap. How long does it take you to get ready?”
“Not as long as you think. My problem is I usually hit snooze forever before I finally get up—and then find a million things to do around the house. Then if I stop by Starbucks on my way in…”
I started rinsing the sponge in my hand as Ryan eased into the bathroom behind me, put the lid down on the toilet, and sat on top. Grabbing my powder and brush, I asked, “What are you doing?”
“Watching you.”
I swallowed but didn’t say anything. For some stupid reason, his watching me made me feel uncomfortable as hell. I knew that was fucking stupid, considering he’d been going down on me the night before. That was a hell of a lot more intimate than this. So I half grinned as I started powdering my face, making myself be okay with it.
“What?” he asked before taking a sip of coffee.
“Nothing.”
“Seriously. What?”
“I’ve just never had a guy watch me putting on my makeup.”
“Does that make you feel weird?”
“Kind of—but I’ll get over it. It’s not like you don’t know what I look like both with and without it.”
“I think you look fine now.”
“All guys say that. But it doesn’t matter anyway. I prefer myself with.”
“Do you have a spare toothbrush around here somewhere?”
“Actually, I do. If you want to get into the cabinet there,” I said, pointing to the cabinet in the corner of the room, “there’s a shoebox on the top shelf, and I have all kinds of stuff in there, especially all the crap the dentist office gives me every time I go in for a cleaning.”
He rifled through the cabinet while I started putting on my eye makeup. “Found one.” He held up a white toothbrush with pink swirls on it. The hygienist usually gave me pink or purple, as if other colors weren’t suitable for me. “Do you want me to use one of those small tubes of toothpaste?”
“You can, or you can use what I have here.” I opened the medicine cabinet and handed him mine. So we spent a few more minutes together in the bathroom almost like boyfriend and girlfriend getting ready for work.
Kind of strange…but nice.
We both finished our tasks around the same time, so I asked, “Now do you want some breakfast?”
“Maybe in a little bit. Do you care if I shower first?”
“Be my guest. The towels are up there in the cabinet.”
“Okay.”
I headed to the kitchen, still wearing my long t-shirt. If I was going to make breakfast, I didn’t want to potentially soil my work clothes. I found a few eggs in the fridge, but I had no earthly idea how old they were, so I tossed them. I also had half a loaf of bread in the freezer and I knew I might have some breakfast bars somewhere, too—but Ryan acted like he might not care anyway. When he saw what slim pickings I had, he might decide McDonald’s drive-through looked more appealing.
In the meantime, though, it was just coffee for me until I got to the office. I fetched the newspaper from out front, an old habit I’d learned from my dad that I continued. I read other papers like the Denver Post and the New York Times online, but my hometown paper, the Winchester Tribune, I read traditionally—in print. There were lots of things in a local paper in weird places that I’d find that would inform my day-to-day activities. Reading the paper made me better at my job. If, for instance, I had a guy hiring me to defend him from a charge of robbery, I’d already have a good idea of what the public perception would be, long before we had to think about choosing a jury. And, with the print version, I didn’t have to deal with the annoying ads online.
As I settled in at the kitchen table with a fresh cup of coffee and my paper, I heard the next-door neighbor start up his lawnmower. If I hadn’t already been up, that activity would have roused me from under the covers. By the time Ryan came in completely dressed except for the baseball cap on the table that he grabbed as I looked up, I’d already made it through half of the first section of the paper. “Guess I better leave now.”
“Sure you don’t want me to feed you?”
“Nah. I’ll pick up something on my way to work. That’s usually what I do anyway.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
I stood up, ready to walk him out, and suddenly felt weird. But we were grownups so, even if it was a little awkward, we could handle it. I forced air into my lungs, hoping it would help me form words. “I had a good time last night.”
He searched my eyes, adding to that strange feeling. “Me, too.”
What was he looking for in my expression?
Before I could ask, he wrapped his hands around my waist and pulled me close to kiss me. I felt myself melting as if I were a candle and his heat were turning me to liquid. It took me a bit to respond, opening my mouth and winding my fingers through the tips of his soft hair that poked out from underneath the cap.
Shit. This was not good. Just when I’d been planning to play it cool, Ryan was heating me up to my core again. What was meant to be a simple goodbye was making me feel desperate and needy like I had last night. I hadn’t gotten this man out of my system.
At all.
My nipples were hardening again, my heart beating faster, all my nerves alive and attentive. But I had to get a grip on myself. This was not going to happen now. We both had our busy lives to get back to.
But when I opened my eyes, I took a deep breath and tried to read his expression. He, too, seemed uncertain, like he didn’t want to leave, either. I couldn’t pinpoint exactly why I thought he felt that way, but to test the waters, I stood up on my tiptoes to kiss him once more—and as his tongue entered my mouth and his hands slid down to cup my ass, I knew for sure.
“Oh, shit.”
I opened my eyes. “What?”
“You’re not wearing anything under this shirt, are you?”
I couldn’t help the grin that made my eyes squint. “One way to find out.”
“Fuck. Just a sec.” Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he swiped at the screen, turning around and clearing his throat before walking to the other side of the kitchen. I could hear a quiet masculine voice answer the call. “Hey, Jim, something’s come up. I’ll be a little late this morning.”
I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily, so I crept up behind him, wrapping my arms around his body and moving my right hand up his chest. I could hear the voice of the man named Jim through Ryan’s phone, but I couldn’t make out his words. “Yeah, I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
Before Ryan could put his cell phone on the table, I’d slid my hand over the front of his pants, massaging his hardening cock. I couldn’t help that my voice gave away my amusement. “Something has definitely come up.”
Ryan turned around, a sexy devilish green on his face. “I never lie.”
I laughed before kissing him as his hands wound around my back and found my ass again. Picking me up, he set me on the table as his lips bruised mine. I wrapped my legs around him as he pulled the shirt over my head. In a fury, he kissed my neck and shoulders before moving to my breasts, and then I leaned back on the table, accidentally pushing the newspaper to the floor. I wasn’t sure about Ryan, but I felt fucking desperate again, and I wondered in the back of my mind if I’d ever feel like I could get enough of this man. Feeling him inside me felt even more urgent now that I knew what he could do to me.
Just one more time before we had to get back to our real lives.
I slid off the table and he stood up in response, just in time for me to yank his jeans down past his knees. I didn’t care about the rest of his clothes—and he must
have read my mind, because he reached in his back pocket and grabbed his wallet. He found a condom and I snatched it out of his hand, urging him into the chair just behind him. Opening the condom, I rolled it over Ryan’s engorged cock while I mashed my lips into his. Then I straddled him in the chair and moaned as he slid into me. His cap fell off his head as I grabbed his hair in my fists and began rocking my hips against him. As control slowly started to slip away, I let go of his hair, wrapping my arms around his neck. I buried my head there, kissing the skin underneath his ear as his strong hands moved up my spine. Damn, this guy felt amazing.
I could feel myself getting closer, so I shifted my position, only that made it shake me to the core. I couldn’t even kiss him again as I felt my brain and body lose control. “Oh, shit, Ryan. I’m coming.”
That was a fucking understatement.
The world exploded in my head with all the colors and noises of a fireworks display, and I somehow knew that the remainder of this orgasm was going to be even better than the other ones I’d experienced with this man already.
I’d barely begun my climb when he stopped moving his hands, letting them press against my back. He shuddered then and I kept the rhythm going, a gasp forcing itself out of my mouth every time I thrust forward. Then I heard him groan lightly as he rested his head on my shoulder. I could barely hear him as he whispered, “Sam…”
That was when it should have hit me. Being called “Sammie” or “Sam” had pissed me off for the better part of my adult life, and I’d always insisted upon being called Samantha. It was professional, unlike the little girl version—but the way Ryan had said it and the moment the words had slipped out of his mouth made Sam sound sexy.
I loved it.
As I cooled off in his arms, I realized that the last time I’d heard my name during sex had been with Adam. More often than not, I’d been called bitch or whore or babe and even mama in the heat of passion. Hearing my actual name was a rarity.
From Ryan, clipped or not, it was a gift. Almost a promise.
That I continued feeling the way I was wasn’t good. Not at all.
But I wasn’t thinking that at the time. Instead, I was wondering if Ryan had ever called me by name at all up to this point. Saying my name now in any version at the moment when he surely had to feel most vulnerable turned out to be a clincher for me.
I’d fallen. All the damn way.
And, somehow, in spite of everything I’d told myself before…it felt right.
Chapter Ten
Maybe Ryan was right. Maybe I was slumming—and that thought hadn’t even crossed my mind until I realized I was standing in a fucking diner that attorneys weren’t known to frequent. My excuse? It was right there on my way into town and I wanted a bite and some coffee.
Yes, there was a Starbucks five blocks away from my office, but the impulse to go to the diner was strong.
When I entered, a thin woman with her ponytailed hair dyed blue said, “Grab a seat, hon. I’ll be right with you.”
“I’d just like to order something to go.”
“Then mosey on up to the counter. I’ll be right there.”
As she waltzed over to a bank of booths, I made my way to the counter with bar stools every few feet, an area that circled the kitchen, maximizing space for single diners. It was then, as I approached, that I first suspected Ryan might be right. But what did that say about me?
I didn’t have a chance to think much about it because the blue-haired waitress appeared behind the counter. I felt like I was on the set of a TV show, because the entire place was stereotypical, including the people. The waitress pinned a small piece of paper the size of a notecard on a metal wheel hanging from a window opening to the kitchen. “Order!”
“Ya don’t have to yell at me, Daisy. I’m right here.”
Grinning, she shrugged and winked at me. “What’ll it be?”
“What can I get to go?”
“Hmm. Well, we have donuts and small boxes of cereal.” Both of which sounded way too sugary. “Muffins…” She pointed to a clear plastic display case full of the donuts she’d promised, but on the top rack were two huge blueberry muffins and one pumpkin.
“I’ll take a blueberry.”
As she opened a brown paper bag, she asked, “What else, hon?”
I tried not to let the misplaced term of endearment grate on my nerves and, spying the coffee carafes behind her that looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in a decade, I said, “That’ll be it.”
I’d get my coffee at work.
A short while later, I sat in my office, nibbling on that muffin that was surprisingly fresh and tasty. I’d grabbed a cup of joe from the breakroom and then sat at my desk, nibbling at the muffin and sipping coffee. I’d already dismissed the slumming idea and instead remembered the feel of Ryan against my body the night before—and I found that it was hard consuming food and drink when I had a smile on my face that wouldn’t go away. I had what I’d always called a “shit-eating grin.” Why, I didn’t know. It must have been one of those things I’d once heard a relative say back in the day but, actually, it was a gross idea. Why would anyone grin after eating shit?
The things I’d done last night had been far more fun than anything involving crap, and the giddiness I felt wasn’t going away.
It was going to be tough concentrating.
But, for the first time in a while, I’d made it to work early, in spite of one last romp with Ryan that morning.
As the minutes ticked by, however, and my passion cooled, I started having doubts. It had started at the truck stop and now I couldn’t stuff those negative thoughts down any longer. And the more time passed, the more I began worrying myself sick. Suddenly, the muffin didn’t taste so good. See, there was this thing called the Model Rules of Professional Conduct, the written code of ethics for attorneys, and I’d violated one of those rules.
I could have my license suspended.
Worse, I could be disbarred. All that shit was in black and white. There was no fucking gray area when it came to the paragraph that covered sexual misconduct. I’d had sex with a client when there’d been no prior sexual relationship, and the law didn’t give a shit that it had been consensual. I knew this. It was part of my damn job. And yet I’d not only willingly and knowingly done it, I’d intentionally made it happen.
It had been premeditated—which made it love in the first degree.
If my stomach hadn’t been roiling, I might have giggled at the thought. But Ryan Craig’s file folder situated on the corner of my desk delivered a guilty verdict and, as I let out a sigh, I wondered what the hell I should do now.
What was worse was there was a huge part of me that didn’t regret it in the least.
And that was the stupidest part of all. Why had I allowed my hormones to rule when I’d known all along what trouble would follow? I’d been like a petulant child, unconcerned with the consequences just so long as I got my way. And now there was really no way to fix it. I’d crossed a line that I shouldn’t have even touched with a toe, and I couldn’t make it better. I’d violated attorney/ client trust, had used my position to seduce Ryan. It didn’t matter that there was a chance no one would ever know. I knew it—and I knew it was wrong. And it was going to gnaw at me for a good long while.
I stood up and walked over to the window, fully cognizant of the fact that I wasn’t racking up any billable time—so I might as well have been at home or in a confessional booth.
He was a good time. No denying it. But the ends couldn’t justify the means.
So how the hell could I fix this when there was no way out?
I finally peeked out the door of my office and saw that Adam’s office light was off. “Can I help you with anything?” Janae asked, pausing in her typing.
I swallowed, certain she’d be able to read the guilt on my face. “Nah. I was just seeing if Adam—”
“He’s at a deposition.” Yes, I’d known that and already forgotten. I could have checked his calen
dar on the computer and found that out, but my emotions were overruling my intelligence at the moment. So I nodded. “Anything I can do for you?”
“No, thanks.” I hustled back in my office fast before she could figure out something was wrong. For a second, I’d almost felt a tiny bit relief as I’d considered going to my partner, knowing that Adam had helped me puzzle my way through seemingly impossible situations before. But this, though—I had to admit to myself that even the almighty Adam might not have a solution for this predicament, and I knew it.
I asked myself now, in the cold light of day, if Ryan had been worth losing my job for. The one thing in my life I’d fought hard for, worked my ass off for. Even though I’d felt like he and I actually made a connection, something I hadn’t expected, was his beautiful body worth fighting for my job? I imagined having to stand in front of a tribunal and beg for mercy, swearing I’d never do it again. More than likely, I’d have my license suspended for a year—and that was best case scenario. And what would I do in the interim? Clerk? Work at Kohl’s? At Starbucks?
Worst of all, though: what if I was disbarred for life?
I wracked my brain, trying to think if I’d ever personally known any attorney who’d had to go before the Bar, but I couldn’t think of anyone. So, honestly, I had no fucking idea what to expect or what kind of punishment I would be facing.
As my stomach roiled and rumbled, I asked myself again…was Ryan Craig worth all this?
I didn’t want to answer that question. I knew I was guilty as hell, and even though I knew how to plead innocence, I also knew how to blur the lines between right and wrong thanks to times when I had questionable clients. But it wasn’t my specialty like it was Adam’s, and I figured I’d come clean long before I’d lie or fudge.
What made my gut sour was imagining myself in front of a panel of Bar officers. I’d always pictured them in a big hollow room that overshadowed a large table with few chairs, stark, cold, and slate gray. There would be the judging attorneys on one side of the table, looking perhaps like medieval drawings of God with white hair and cool unreadable expressions. I would be alone on the other side of the table, and when we spoke, our voices would echo in the cavernous space, making every word sharp, clear, and damning.
Love and Lust (Small Town Secrets Book 2) Page 7