I stop in place.
Where the fuck is my bedroom?
I chuckle when I realize that she’s kissed all sense out of me. I turn us around again.
“What’s so funny?” she asks, tapping my shoulder with her fingernail.
I want those nails digging into my skin when I’m inside of her. I want her to mark me. I want the pain to linger for days so I don’t forget her.
I shake the thought away with a heavy sigh.
I always forget them.
I can’t remember the name of the woman I fucked last week or the one I took to bed the week before that.
Maybe it’s best that I don’t know this woman’s name. I fear I’d never forget it and there’s only room in my memory for one name.
“Dylan?” The woman wrapped around me lures my attention with a drag of her fingernail over my shoulder and down my bicep. “Are you all right?”
I’ll never be all right.
I’m fine. I’m okay. I’m put together enough that I can fuck this woman into tomorrow and leave her with a memory of a man named Dylan who gave her a night to remember.
I answer her with a hard press of my mouth to hers before I carry her down the hallway and into my bedroom.
***
One round with her won’t be enough.
She’s on her back on my bed. Her light brown hair surrounds her head and shoulders like a halo.
This woman is no angel.
I’d call her the devil, but she’s far from that.
She’s a savior.
She was sent to save me from the hell that I’ve been living in for the past fifteen years.
Even if my salvation lasts only tonight, I’ll fall to my knees in gratitude.
I toe out of my shoes, rip off my socks, and drop my pants.
The bulge inside my boxer briefs catches her eye immediately. I’m long and thick. The only measure that matters to me is the degree of pleasure the women I’ve been with have experienced.
I know I have an impressive cock. I’ve heard it enough times that there’s no reason for humility.
I slide my boxer briefs down.
Her tongue glides over her bottom lip. At any other time, with another woman, I’d take that as an invitation.
I’d crawl onto the bed and shove my dick between a pair of eager lips, but I want my lover tonight to experience what I can do for her.
I won’t be greedy with this woman.
I rest a knee on the bed and look down at her. “Undo your bra.”
She nods in response. Her hands jump to the clasp at the front. She fumbles with it briefly before it lets go and her ample tits spill out.
I lower my mouth to her right nipple. Taking it between my teeth, I lick it slowly with the tip of my tongue.
Her breath catches. I sense her holding back a moan. It’s there in the arch of her back and the graze of her hand over the skin of my neck.
I focus on the other breast, gliding my tongue over her soft flesh until I bite that nipple. I’m not tender this time.
“My panties,” she whimpers. “Take them off.”
“Take them off,” I repeat back.
I want her to undress for me. Her body is a gift, and I want her to unwrap it.
She moves to slide the triangle of black lace down her legs.
I’m transfixed. I can’t take my eyes away from her body.
She rubs her thighs together before her legs open. Her cunt is perfectly pink and wet.
I crave a taste. I want to lap at her until she can’t form any word but my name.
Her fingers glide over her cleft. “I need you inside of me now.”
I stare at her hand; at the way her delicate fingers circle her clit. I could sit here, with my dick pulsing with need and watch her get herself off.
I could, but I won’t.
I move quickly, shifting on the bed until I’m facing the nightstand. I dump the box of condoms that sits in plain view. My hand grabs for one.
I rip the packet open, sheath my cock, and turn back to the sight of this gorgeous woman laid open and bare for me.
Pushing between her legs, I look down at her. “This is just the beginning. You’re mine for the night.”
I thrust into her. It’s so hard and sudden that she cries out.
I take her in long strokes, the pace building, the raw need surfacing until the bed shakes beneath us and she comes with a moan that wraps itself around me so tightly that it drives me into an intense orgasm that steals everything from me but this moment in time with this woman.
Chapter 4
Dylan
“Mr. Colt? Sir? Are you alive?”
If I’m hearing those words, I sure as hell can’t be dead.
I manage to crack one of my eyelids open far enough to see a stocky figure standing at the foot of my bed.
Sunlight is pouring into the room.
I never wake to sunlight.
“What?” I bark back, my hand falling to the space next to me. I slide it over the sheet but come up empty. “Where the fuck is she?”
“Who?”
Christ.
Gunner Runyan, my ever-present, annoying-as-hell assistant, is standing in my bedroom, and I’m naked.
I tug the twisted blanket around my waist.
“There’s a woman here.” I use sheer will to pry open both of my eyelids against the assault of light. I didn’t draw the blinds before I fell asleep.
I couldn’t think straight last night.
“No, sir.” I don’t have to look at him to know that he’s shaking his head. “You were the only one here when I arrived.”
“Bullshit,” I mutter under my breath.
“It’s not bullshit,” he says in an even tone. “I can go back and check every room if you want, but I guarantee that there’s no one in this apartment but you and me.”
She left. She goddamn left when I was sleeping.
Gunner clears his throat as if I need a reminder that he’s standing mere feet away from me.
“Why are you here?” I shield my eyes from the sunlight with my hand so I can shoot him a death stare.
He’s dressed as he always is in a three-piece black suit, a white button-down shirt, and a light blue tie. Gunner doesn’t give a shit if it’s one hundred degrees outside. His wardrobe never changes.
His blond hair is cut short and neat. His green eyes are always keen and focused.
He may annoy me, but he’s the best assistant I’ve ever had. His salary and perks prove that.
“I tried calling you.” He motions to the nightstand. “Your phone was dead when I arrived. I’m charging it now.”
I glance in the direction he’s pointing. I see dozens of condom wrappers with only one opened, my phone, and an alarm clock that I never bother to set.
I wake up every single fucking day at four thirty-five without fail.
Narrowing my eyes, I spot the time on the clock.
“It’s seven-thirty?” I dart into a sitting position. “Tell me it’s not seven-thirty, Gunner.”
His gaze drops to the gold watch on his wrist. “It’s seven-thirty two according to my time. I synchronize it every morning with my computer’s clock. It’s accurate within a quarter of a second.”
“Fuck.” I swing my legs over the side of the bed, not caring if Gunner gets an eyeful of my dick.
He immediately turns his back to me. “You’re due in court in less than ninety minutes. I also need to point out that you have a meeting in precisely thirteen minutes with Mrs. Jenkinson. She’s aware that you can’t give her more than twenty minutes of your time today.”
I’d ask why the fuck I have a meeting before court, but I’m the arrogant asshole who thought I could fit that in.
I haven’t reviewed my notes for the Alcester case.
I’m representing the wife. Trudy Alcester is looking to end her marriage to her cheating bastard of a husband, Troy Alcester.
He’s ranked in the top five on virtually every national l
ist there is for the wealthy and elite.
They met and married before he struck gold in the technology market. With no prenup in existence and a string of mistresses set to testify, I’ll help Mrs. Alcester start a new, very comfortable life.
My only hurdles at this point are Mr. Alcester’s lawyer, Kurt Sufford, and the parade of paparazzi that will be waiting on the steps of the courthouse hoping for a picture of the jilted wife or one of the three mistresses I have lined up waiting to tell their stories.
“I’ll meet you back at the office?” Gunner asks, starting toward my bedroom door.
“Pick me up a coffee on your way there.” I rake both hands through my hair.
Gunner stops mid-step, his back still to me. “About the woman that was here, sir. I believe she may have forgotten something. I noticed a woman’s watch on the bar when I was emptying the ice bucket. Should I take it and have it returned to her?”
I have no goddamn idea who she is or why she bolted before I woke up.
We fell asleep wrapped around each other after we fucked. My intention to catch a few minutes of sleep before I screwed her again turned into a solid seven hours.
“I’ll take care of the watch,” I say curtly. “Get that coffee and get back to the office before Martha Jenkinson arrives.”
“I’m on that.”
I head to the shower as he disappears out of view.
***
I don’t fly blindly whether it’s in the bedroom or the courtroom.
I never fall asleep with a woman next to me. I’m a gentleman who sees the woman I fuck out the door and into a cab before he calls it a night.
I can’t believe I drifted off last night with my lover in my arms.
I have her watch in the pocket of my navy blue suit jacket and the memory of her body stored away.
I wish to fuck I would have gotten her name.
Anyone who thinks they can wander around Manhattan anonymously is mistaken. I have a private investigator on my payroll. The man is the second coming of Sherlock Holmes. I know, without a doubt, that he could find the mystery woman with as little as her first name.
I don’t even have that to offer him.
I’ve tried to convince myself that I want to know who she is so I can return the watch, but it reaches far beyond that.
I want her back in my bed.
Thinking about her voice, her body, and that sound she made when she came is clouding my common sense.
I’m sitting in the courtroom with Trudy Alcester by my side and a gallery filled with reporters.
I didn’t have time to crack open the envelope Gunner left for me last night. I scooped it into my palm before I left my apartment, but it’s sitting back on the desk in my office.
I know I’ve got the facts straight unless Kurt Sufford decided to pull something out of his hat before this hearing.
I haven’t looked over at the table where he’s sitting. I sense that Kurt and his jerk of a client both have smug grins on their faces.
I heard them arrive to a chorus of applause from the gallery. It has to be the employees of Alcester Industries that Troy pays to fill several seats in the courtroom.
He did it during the first hearing we had months ago when the judge ordered the case be sent to a mediator.
Anyone who needs to bring their own cheering section to their divorce proceedings deserves to be hung up from his balls.
“All rise,” the bailiff calls out just as the clock hits nine o’clock sharp.
I stand and bow my head as he runs through his chatter about court being in session and the honorable Judge Peggy Mycella presiding over these proceedings.
I’ve been in Peggy’s courtroom enough times to know that she won’t make eye contact until she’s settled behind the bench.
She reads out the docket number, combs a hand through her short blonde bob, and takes a sip of water before she asks if we’re ready to proceed.
“Judge?” Kurt adds a high note to his voice. “If it so pleases the court, I’d like a moment to speak before we get started.”
I roll my eyes and glance over at my client. The look on her face is pure frustration. She wants this over with as quickly as I do.
Mediation got us nowhere so we’re here, facing off with her soon-to-be ex-husband in front of a courtroom filled with reporters who are looking for any sordid tidbit they can run alongside a picture of the once happy couple.
“It would please me to get through this hearing within the hour.” Judge Mycella taps her fingernails on the wooden bench. “Say what you need to say.”
“I request a continuance, your honor.”
That finally turns my head to the left.
I narrow my eyes at the sight that awaits me.
What the actual fuck?
The woman standing between Kurt and his client may be looking straight ahead, but I know that face. I stared at that profile in the car on the way to my apartment less than twelve hours ago.
She’s not wearing the black dress she had on last night. Today she’s dressed in a conservative navy blue jacket and matching skirt. Under the jacket is a white blouse. Her long hair is tied into a bun at the base of her neck.
“What the hell?” I mutter under my breath, shaking my head because I’m sure as fuck dreaming this. I have to be.
“What’s wrong?” Trudy jabs an elbow into my side. “What is Troy’s lawyer trying to pull?”
“A continuance?” The judge removes her eyeglasses and pops a brow. “Why, Mr. Sufford?”
“The old ticker needs a tune-up.” Kurt pats the middle of his chest with his hand. “I’m having heart surgery the day after tomorrow.”
“I’m genuinely sorry to hear that.” The judge’s gaze shifts from Kurt to me.
“My co-counsel needs time to get up to speed on the case.” Kurt’s arm waves in front of the woman I fucked last night.
The judge leans forward, her eyes pinned to the woman I had pinned to my bed just a few hours ago. “I haven’t seen your co-counsel in my courtroom before. An introduction is in order, Mr. Sufford.”
I turn my full attention to the woman I took home with me last night.
Kurt clears his throat, but her hand on his shoulder stills him.
She looks to the judge before glancing in my direction. Her eyes lock with mine. “I’m Eden Conrad, your honor.”
“No fucking way,” I blurt out. “There’s no way in hell you’re Eden Conrad.”
I hear the distant thump of the judge’s gavel as she calls order in the court and warns me that she’ll hold me in contempt if I use that language again.
I stare at the woman I fucked last night. There’s no goddamn way she’s the same girl I knew in high school. That girl has haunted my thoughts constantly since I last saw her on the night I graduated.
With all hell breaking loose around me, I fall into my chair and rest my head in my hands.
Fuck my life.
Chapter 5
Dylan
“Counsel will approach.” Judge Mycella dips her chin. “Now.”
I drag my ass off the chair without glancing to my left.
I’m stuck in some alternate reality where the sins of my past are finally catching up to me.
Kurt takes a spot next to me in front of the bench. The woman calling herself Eden Conrad stands next to him.
“What’s going on, Mr. Colt?” Peggy asks tersely. “You know better than to have an outburst in my courtroom.”
“My apologies.” I keep my gaze on her as I adjust my light blue tie and button my suit jacket. “I need time to regroup, your honor.”
“You’ll get time.” She looks over at Kurt and the woman next to him. “I take it you know, Mr. Colt?”
“We’ve met,” she answers in that same soft voice she spoke in last night when she was in my apartment.
Fuck this woman. What the fuck is she doing to me?
I finally turn to look at her. “Who put you up to this?”
“Mr. Colt.”
My name lashes off Peggy’s tongue with an unspoken warning. “What is your problem?”
“She’s not Eden Conrad,” I say it with conviction because there’s zero chance in hell that the woman I’m looking at is the same Eden Conrad I went to high school with.
“I am Eden Conrad.” She tilts her head.
“You’re not that Eden Conrad,” I snap back.
“That Eden Conrad?” Peggy scratches her eyebrow. “You’re going to clarify what that means, Dylan.”
Peggy and I travel in some of the same social circles.
She’s two decades older than me, generous, and funny as hell. In the courtroom she’s tough-as-nails, fair, and firm.
I’ve never expected a favor from her, and not one has ever been granted.
She rules by the law.
“I knew an Eden Conrad years ago.” I look over at the woman claiming to be Eden. “She’s not that Eden Conrad.”
“In my defense, your honor…”
“You’re not on trial, Ms. Conrad.” Peggy smiles gently at the woman. “Is there a history here that the court needs to be aware of?”
“We went to the same high school.” The woman sighs. “Mr. Colt doesn’t recognize me. I’ve changed since the last time we saw each other.”
I want to point out that we saw each other last night. The only thing that’s changed is her assertion that she’s Eden Conrad.
For fuck’s sake, if she were Eden, she would have said something when my dick was buried inside her.
I would have known.
Christ. There’s no way in hell I can be in the same room breathing the same air as Eden Conrad and not know it.
“The Eden Conrad I knew would never have pursued a law degree.” I take a deep breath. “That’s not who she was. You may be the same height as her and have the same eye color, but you’re not her.”
Kurt hasn’t said a word throughout this until now. He clears his throat. “Your honor, may I say something?”
“Please.” Peggy waves a hand in the air as the muted chatter from the gallery floats in the air behind us.
“You obviously weren’t brought up to speed on the change of counsel.” Kurt glances at me. “I mentioned it in a courtesy call to Gunner two days ago. You might want to ask your assistant why he didn’t pass the message on to you.”
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