His touch is firm, but I want more. I want everything.
“James,” I breathe.
There’s a hunger in his expression that’s almost too much to bear, and it drives me wild.
I’m already desperate for him, and he knows it.
His thumb circles my clit, and he slides two fingers into me, sending a surge of pleasure through my entire body.
I cry out, barely coherent as I clutch at his shoulders.
His rhythm is merciless, and I know I’m close.
“Be a good girl and come for me.”
That’ll do it.
He doesn’t slow. He doesn’t stop. He just watches, relentless, until I come with a wild shudder that makes everything spin.
He removes his fingers slowly and leans over me, his chest against mine. He trails his lips to my throat, biting just hard enough to make me gasp, and I reach between us, guiding him to me.
I want to feel all of him. I need to.
He thrusts into me, and the world narrows to the single point where our bodies meet.
“Fuck, Avery,” he groans, and I wrap my legs around his waist, holding him closer, driving him deeper.
The pressure builds at my center, tighter and tighter.
I dig my nails into his shoulders, desperate for something to ground me. But it’s no use. He demolishes every last thought, every boundary, until the only thing left is the delirious build of pleasure.
And when it becomes unbearable and I topple over the edge, I shatter around him. My body convulses beneath him, back arched, vision scattered and blurred, his name escaping my lips in a strangled cry.
He spills into me with one last thrust, softly kissing my swollen lips.
We collapse together, breathless and tangled, the chaos of papers strewn around us a perfect echo of the chaos inside me.
“Do you know why I gave you this case?” he asks.
I’m thrown off by the abrupt question.
“Well, considering our current naked state, my first thought would be favoritism,” I say, still catching my breath. “But it surely can’t be that because this isn’t a good case.”
He chuckles.
“No, it’s not aneasycase. There’s a difference.”
I roll my eyes at the distinction. I don’t care what he says. This is not a good case.
“Okay, so why’d you give me this difficult case then?”
“I know the law isn’t on our side, but that’s why I chose you for this case. If any attorney in this office could wring out the emotion in this case and lay it bare for the jury, it’s you.”
Chapter 18
The courthouse bathroom is the loneliest place on earth.
That’s what I decide at 7:37 a.m. on the first morning of trial, as I brace myself against the pale green tile countertop and try not to vomit.
