Page 30 of Legal Attraction
He narrowed his dark eyes and studied her face with obvious skepticism. “Not even Simon?”
“Not now,” she said. “But if he hurts Bette, I’ll kill him.” She’d never had a friend like Bette—she knew that now, after all those people had given false testimony against her. They hadn’t been true friends.
Ronan chuckled and reached for her arm, gently squeezing her biceps. She flexed for him. “I think you could take him,” he said. “Hell, you could probably take me.”
“I wanted to kill you for a long time,” she admitted.
And he flinched again. Then he slid his fingers up to her shoulder and, stroking her bare skin, he asked, “And now?”
Now she just wanted him. She shivered in reaction to his touch. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted his hands everywhere on her. She wanted his mouth everywhere.
His name slipped through her lips on a soft, lustful sigh. “Ronan...”
He pressed his mouth to hers. His kiss was gentle at first, just a whisper-soft brush of his lips across hers.
Her breath sighed out in a gasp of pleasure. She hadn’t known he could be so tender. It was almost as if he cared about her. But that wasn’t true.
She had to remind herself of that—of the fact that Ronan Hall didn’t care about anyone or anything but winning. And he wouldn’t stop until he’d won, until he seduced her into doing what he wanted. While he wanted to find out where she’d gotten the memos, he also wanted her to withdraw her complaint to the bar association. Bette had warned her.
If she was smart, she would stay far away from him. But she was the one who’d sought him out today. Bette had refused to give her his home address, but she’d reluctantly admitted that he could be at the office, that the partners often worked weekends.
Was that why Ronan hadn’t come back to her apartment? Because he’d been too busy working? Too busy ruining other people’s lives to seduce her again?
Taking advantage of her parted lips, he deepened the kiss, sliding his tongue inside her mouth. He stroked his tongue across hers, teasing her, tasting her.
Desire rushed through Muriel, heating her skin and making her pulse race wildly. She didn’t care about anything right now—about his motives or hers. All she wanted was the pleasure she knew he could give her.
He pulled back and panted for breath, his eyes dark and wild with desire. “Damn you...” he murmured.
Instead of being offended, she laughed because she knew he felt it, too—the overwhelming attraction between them.
His lips curved into a slight, reluctant grin. “You are becoming an addiction.”
Apparently he didn’t understand the definition of addiction—because if he was addicted to her, he wouldn’t have been able to walk away from her like he had the other night. He wouldn’t have been able to leave her bed at all.
There was no bed in his office. She wasn’t even sure he had a chair. He’d been standing at that odd desk of his. But she didn’t care where they had sex; she just had to have sex with him.
Now.
She understood what an addiction was, and she was very afraid that she was becoming addicted to him. Her body ached with desire—with need—for his.
She clutched the nape of his neck as she pulled down his head so she could kiss him back. She skipped the tenderness he’d shown her at first, and she went straight for the passion, kissing him deeply and hungrily. She nibbled at his lips and teased his tongue with the tip of hers.
He groaned and lifted her, the muscles in his arms bulging and rippling as he carried her.
She wasn’t certain where he was taking her, and she didn’t care as long as he took her.
He settled her onto something that was hard and cold beneath her bottom. And when she glanced down she saw she was on the bar that ran along one wall of his office. The surface was black granite with a vein of gold running through it. The faucet on the little sink was gold, as were the liquor decanters sitting next to her ass on the countertop.
“Need a drink?” she asked.
“I need you,” he said. And he dragged her sweater up and over her head. Her hair tangled around her face, blinding her for a moment. So she didn’t see his reaction to her bustier. It was black leather and, of course, a bow topped the laced-up front of it. But she heard his reaction in the sharp intake of his breath.
Then he groaned her name. His fingers shook slightly as he fumbled with the button of her jeans. He got it loose, though, and tugged down her zipper, as well. She wore leather panties to go with the bustier. They were also laced up the front and tied with a bow.
“Remind me to compliment Bette on her brilliant designs,” he murmured as he lowered his head and kissed her again.
She nipped his bottom lip between her teeth. She wanted more than his kisses. She wanted his dick. So she reached for it, sliding her hand over the fly of his jeans. His cock strained the already worn denim. She jerked his button loose and pulled down his zipper to free him from his boxers.
