Hot Lawyers: The Lee Christine Collection

by Lee Christine

  Laila took an unsteady breath and decided to adopt his approach. The man had no hang-ups, no leftover religious constraints, no ongoing schoolboy awkwardness with the subject.

  ‘I didn’t know you found it.’

  ‘One night when I was looking for tissues.’

  ‘I haven’t used it since I met you.’

  He laughed, looking like a male model on a toothpaste commercial. ‘Now you’re stroking my ego.’

  He leaned close and put his lips to her ear, setting off a top-to-toe tremble. ‘Do you still use it?’

  ‘No. I fantasize about you.’

  His eyes widened, and Laila couldn’t stop the satisfied smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

  He nuzzled her neck, right at the base where it joined her shoulder. ‘Am I good?

  Sensation speared through Laila’s body, her breath coming in fast little puffs. She wanted to rub herself against his steely hardness until her skin chafed and her body exploded in welcome relief.

  ‘Always.’ Her voice shook. This was part of his sexual game. Drawing things out until she grew so hot she was in danger of self-combusting. ‘You are always good.’

  His eyes glittered as he turned her on her back and positioned himself on top of her. ‘Nothing beats the real thing though, does it?’

  Laila arched her back, brought her hips up to meet him. ‘No, nothing beats the real thing.’

  And then, because she feared she wasn’t going to last, and because she needed him, more than she’d ever needed him. ‘The ache I have. It’s worse than the night we met.’

  She ran her hands up the corded muscles of his arms and across the wide contours of his shoulders. ‘Don’t make me wait.’

  He kissed her hard on her open mouth, and Laila’s mind shut down. She was only aware of his hand trailing over her hip, her breasts crushed against his chest, his tongue finally touching hers.

  He deepened the kiss, groaning low in his throat as his tongue pushed further into her mouth. Laila raised her lower body, high enough so he could slide his hands beneath her bottom and bring her pelvis snug up against his.

  Then with one strong push, he was inside.

  Oh god, she loved this! There was no better feeling than his long, hard length driving inside her, pressing her into the mattress, stimulating her in all the right places.

  She took a deep breath, heard his groan of approval as she gripped him tighter, took him deeper.

  He stilled, his mouth turning gentle, sensual, reverent — as though trying to kiss away the horrors of the night. Laila let her eyes drift closed as she worked her fingers into his hair, cupping his head, pulling him closer as his body throbbed inside her.

  He deepened the kiss again, sweeping his tongue into her mouth. Laila moaned, tasting him, breathing him in. Unable to stop herself, she raised her hips, searching for a greater friction, hands stroking his broad back, tapered waist, firm butt.

  Evan took over, holding her steady as he went about setting a more even pace. She wanted this, needed it, he could feel it in the shift of her body, in the silent invitation to fill her, stretch her, bury himself all the way in.

  He did just that, gave her what she wanted, heart booming when she moaned his name. He lifted his head and kissed a trail down her throat, freeing his hands so he could fill his palms with her soft perky breasts.

  She whimpered when he stroked his tongue across a nipple, cried out when he brushed the tender undersides with the pads of his fingers.

  Resisting the temptation to fuck her hard, he pulled halfway out, then plunged back inside.

  ‘Yes,’ she breathed. ‘Again.’

  He pulled out, further this time, then slammed in again.

  It was enough, for both of them. Laila tensed, then came with a rippling shudder he could feel rolling through her body. She cried his name, face buried in his neck, slender frame bucking beneath him.

  ‘Fuck.’ Gritting his teeth, Evan rode her hard, pumping into her until he couldn’t hold on. Blood thundering in his ears, he let go, a wild groan bursting from his chest as he flooded her body with everything that was him.

  For long moments, Evan basked in the afterglow, loving the sensation of their bodies pulsing in unison, loving the way Laila held him in her arms.

  When he could manage, he lifted his head and looked into her eyes. ‘That was totally out of control. Are you alright?’

  ‘I am.’ She cupped his face with her hands and he drank her in, loving the way her eyes turned golden when she was aroused. ‘I needed you, so much.’

  He rolled over on his back, blew out a breath then turned and looked at her again. ‘I needed you too. It’s been so long, Laila — so bloody long.’

  ‘I feel that way too,’ she whispered. ‘When I was in the park, I heard him lowering a zipper. It was when he went for the gun, but I thought…’

  Her voice broke, and he pulled her to him, swallowing the lump that was building in his throat. ‘Shhh — don’t think about it. I’m here now.’

  ‘It was his jacket.’ She went on. ‘But in that moment of absolute clarity, I knew if I survived, I’d ask you to be with me again.’

  Evan kissed her. Not as he had in the hallway of her house, all demanding anger and frustration, and not with the deep-tongued arousal of a few minutes ago. He let his lips go soft, let them cling to her pink ones in the sweetest kiss he’d ever known.

  She murmured, but he kept it long and leisurely, kept it in sync with their sated bodies, kept it sugary sweet until his head spun and he had to come up for breath.

  ‘Stay there,’ he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead and climbing out of bed.

  In the bathroom, he cleaned up, then grabbed a large fluffy towel and a bottle of massage oil from the cupboard.

  Back in the bedroom, he put on some relaxation music, then spread out the bath sheet. ‘On your stomach.’

  She sat up and smiled, all ladylike, legs curled underneath her. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes, really. Arms above your head.’

  While she arranged herself on the towel, Evan grabbed his boxers and pulled them on. Even though the edge was off, this was going to be one hell of an exercise in restraint. Still, he was determined to make her relaxed so she could sleep off her ordeal. He wouldn’t be waking her. What she’d given him tonight was enough.

  Placing his knees on either side of her thighs, he shifted her hair to one side so he could see her profile. Then he warmed the massage oil between his palms, noticing how her golden skin was covered in goose bumps. Was she cold, or were her nerve endings tingling with anticipation, waiting for him to begin?

  He hoped it was the latter.

  Leaning forward, he put his hands on her shoulders and began to rub, watching her face as she took a long breath then sighed in appreciation.

  ‘Usually I would do your neck first, but I can see the bruises.’

  He concentrated on the joints in her upper spine, easing up when her muscles flexed beneath his fingers. ‘Too hard?’

  ‘No,’ she breathed the word. ‘It’s perfect. It’s genius.’

  He smiled, enjoying the way her lips parted and her expression turned blissful as he massaged a little harder. ‘Not genius. I’ve been worked on myself so many times, I know a bit about anatomy.’

  ‘You certainly do.’

  He smiled again, liking this new camaraderie between them. Was that the right word? Perhaps it was closeness he was feeling, the type of closeness he’d never experienced with a woman before.

  He leaned over her, ran his hands all the way down her arms until his hands covered hers. He threaded his fingers through her slender ones and clasped them tight. For long moments he stayed like that, chest pressed against her warm back, almost reluctant to move.

  He sat back on his heels again, massaging the large muscles attached to her spine and ribcage. Compared to his own skin, which had seen a lot of sun in the first nine years, hers had a natural golden tone, unmarked, slick now from the oil.

/>   Suddenly, something unlocked inside him, and he needed to know more. ‘Did you go to the beach much when you were a kid?’

  Laila’s eyes flew open and her body tensed beneath his hands.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Too far away?’

  A pause. ‘I wasn’t allowed.’

  ‘Oh.’ Had she been sick as a child? She looked in perfect health now.

  Not wanting to press her, he stayed quiet.

  She closed her eyes and spoke in a low voice. ‘I have — difficult parents.’

  Surprised, Evan moved lower down her back, using his thumbs to massage her lumbar region. ‘Do you get home much?’

  ‘Not if I can help it.’

  He stilled, momentarily shocked by her answer, though he knew he shouldn’t be. Broken homes and blended families were common issues people struggled with. He just hadn’t picked Laila as one of them.

  Aware of his reaction, she went on. ‘I’m an only child. They’re very controlling people. I was so conditioned, I really didn’t understand until I was a teenager and began noticing how my friends interacted with their parents.’

  ‘What kind of things?’ He knew what it was like to be neglected and abandoned, but not this.

  ‘It’s verbal. The school counsellor called it emotional blackmail. They manipulate, make you feel obligated, control your behaviour with threats, mostly by withdrawing their love. They say things like “I always thought you were a good girl” or “look at all we’ve done for you”. They put you down, tell you you’re hopeless, that kind of thing. They laughed when I said I wanted to be a lawyer. They tear you down instead of building you up, using fear and guilt to govern, basically.’

  For a few moments Evan couldn’t move, so stunned that Laila could have emerged from such a family.

  He’d always thought her strong and very together, but tonight she’d shown another side of herself. She suffered guilt over her friend’s burden, enough to refuse compensation herself. And there were times where she woke up feeling relieved, then felt like a horrible person.

  Those were her words.

  Evan reached out and caressed her cheek.

  She was so beautiful, so caring, such a wonderful advocate for the army wives. Stupid bastards — not cherishing the wonderful daughter they had.

  ‘They really tried to shrink your world, honey, didn’t they?’

  She rolled over on her side and looked at him, reached out a hand and stroked his jaw with tender fingers.

  ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that.’

  Evan lay down beside her, guided her head onto his shoulder, and wrapped them both in the bath towel.

  ‘Please don’t feel sorry for me.’ She drew a circle on his chest with her index finger. ‘Many people don’t have the strength to detach. I did, and I’m proud of that. I walked away from my parents, empowered, knowing I would never let anyone play me or manipulate me ever again.’

  A defining moment in her life.

  His had come at the age of nine.

  He understood why she didn’t want sympathy. Hard times made you strong, not weak. It was the reason he didn’t want people poking around in his past. Men didn’t worry so much, they just accepted his background, but he’d always been scared that some soft-hearted woman would think he needed mothering.

  Fuck that.

  ‘What about you?’ she asked suddenly, raising her head and smiling down at him. ‘Star footballer. Handsome lawyer. I bet you’re the apple of your mother’s eye.’

  Evan’s heart began to thud and a cold dread welled up inside him. He wasn’t going to talk about his life, not with Laila, not tonight. She’d had it hard enough herself, without him laying the misery of his early years on her.

  ‘That’s for another time.’ He threw off the towel, sat up and grabbed the bottle of massage oil. ‘Let’s get on with this rubdown.’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  5 a.m. Friday

  Laila blinked in the darkness and stretched her limbs, luxuriating in the comfortable warmth of Evan’s bed. The only light in the room was the tiny red glow from the TV and a narrow column of light shining from the direction of the ensuite bathroom. She smiled and turned over, feeling for him, but the sheets on his side were cool. How many times had she woken this way, relaxed and sated, only to find him gone?

  Laila sat up, listening for sounds of running water, but all was quiet in the bathroom. Throwing off the covers, she climbed out of bed and wrapped the bath sheet around her. At the top of the stairs she paused to survey the shadowed living area below. Light shone from the partially opened door leading to the veranda.

  She raised a hand to her grumbling stomach. The last time she’d eaten was lunchtime yesterday. Perhaps hunger had also woken Evan, and he’d gone downstairs for a snack.

  Laila descended the stairs, bare toes gripping the polished wooden steps, right hand on the brick wall to steady herself. In the living room, she skirted around the modular lounge where Evan’s coat lay forgotten, drawn towards the sound of pounding feet and the whir of a treadmill programmed to a fast sprint.

  Staying in the shadows, Laila peered through the doorway. Evan’s back was to her, the treadmill positioned to face a large window. But it was the scenery inside the room, not the ‘city by night’ view that held Laila’s attention.

  Dressed in running skins and gym shorts, Evan’s body was energy in motion, a perfect example of male anatomy. He ran with the easy coordination of an athlete, shoulders loose, skin gleaming with sweat, trainers a blur on the moving rubber mat. A man primed to take on the world after four hours of sleep.

  Laila caught her breath, gaze settling on well-defined muscles rippling beneath smooth, golden skin. Smooth, apart from the reddened, claw-like slash where her nails had raked his back.

  Right then the treadmill slowed, and he glanced over his shoulder. ‘Hi.’

  Before the machine completely stopped, he hopped off, sure-footed and agile for a guy of his size. Grabbing a towel from where it hung on the handrail, he wiped his face then ran it around the back of his neck.

  ‘I saw your reflection in the glass. I was going to have a shower, then bring you breakfast in bed.’ He leaned forward and rested his hands on his knees, gulping air into his lungs and speaking between snatches of breath. ‘There’s hot tea in the tea maker.’

  ‘Do you always push yourself so hard?’ With a rush of affection, Laila leaned forward and ran her hand through his damp hair, smoothing it back from his forehead. ‘It’s only 5 a.m. It’s still dark.’

  He straightened, swiping at the rivulets of sweat running down his heaving chest. ‘It’s the only time I have.’

  Laila understood. Working at Poole Greenwood wasn’t for the fainthearted. Many young lawyers had resigned over the years, unable to sustain the workload, while others cracked under the pressure of meeting their monthly fee targets.

  Was that the reason he had always left her house at 4 a.m., so he could get back here and exercise? If that were the reason, why hadn’t he just told her?

  Laila sighed. There were many things she didn’t understand about Evan Barclay; his urge to be answerable to no-one was only one of them. But something drove him on, drove him to be the best man he could be.

  ‘Everything okay?’ he asked, eyes watchful.

  Something primitive in Laila’s brain propelled her forward, something basic, biological, something she hadn’t experienced before. ‘I don’t want tea.’

  ‘Okay.’ He gave her a funny smile. ‘I won’t make you drink tea.’

  ‘I want you.’ She didn’t ask him to make love to her, because he’d already done that, tonight and many times before. Nor did she say ‘come to bed’ because she didn’t want to wait that long.

  With trembling fingers, she undid the towel and let it slide to the floor.

  She heard his breath hitch, watched his eyes widen as they moved slowly up and down her body.

  ‘Five minutes,’ he said in a husky voice. ‘I’m sweating li
ke a pig.’

  Gripped by a sexual hunger so raw it overrode everything else, Laila linked her arms around his neck, the morning chill failing to cool her heated skin. ‘Here.’

  Evan’s mind clouded, his body turning brutally hard as Laila’s soft curves, still warm from his bed, pressed into his hard frame. She was so darn beautiful, so soft, so fragrant. So selfless.

  Everything he wasn’t.

  And yet here she was, taking control.

  ‘Hit the light behind you. We’re not putting on a show for the neighbours.’ It sounded like an order, but he didn’t care. Laila wore the expression of a woman determined to have her way with him, eyes burning with an intensity that sucked the oxygen out of the room.

  She turned and showed him her back, long hair curling over one shoulder. Like a model on a photo shoot, she glanced back at him, her smile sending a bolt of heat straight to his groin.

  Greedy for one last look, Evan ran his gaze down the long sweep of her spine before she raised her hand and flicked the switch. The room darkened, the red glow from the treadmill’s dashboard the only artificial light in the room.

  She came towards him, all creamy skin and silky hair. He sat down on the edge of the machine, telling himself his unsteady legs were from the hard run and not a sudden onset of nerves. Heart pounding, blood crashing through his veins like river rapids, Evan reached for her hand and drew her between his thighs.

  ‘Perfect height to do this.’ He trailed a line of kisses from her hip to her navel, felt her hands slide into his hair as he thrust his tongue into the small, sensitive hollow. He moved lower, licking and tasting his way down to the sensitive spot at the apex of her thighs.

  She gave a soft gasp and stepped back, breaking contact. Then she leaned over and put her hands on his shoulders, pushing him back until he lay on the rubber mat of the treadmill.

  ‘Is it off?’ She grabbed hold of his shorts and dragged them downwards.

  He lifted his arse off the mat so she could pull his shorts all the way off. ‘Just don’t press any buttons.’