Hard Case (Hard as Nails #2) (6 page)

His firm shaft presses against me through the thin, worn cotton of my panties, and I immediately ache for him. It’s been so long since anyone has been inside of me. I roll my hips, begging him to enter me.

He caresses my breasts softly, then plumps them. His lips latch onto my left nipple through my tank top, sending a sharp electric shock of pleasure through my body. I grab his hair and press him even closer as I arch my back and press myself against his body. His tongue circles my hardening flesh, and his teeth tighten on me slightly, sending another jolt through me.

My moist center cries out against his hardening erection, begging me to let him in.

I reach down and pull at the waistband of his boxers, tugging them down over his ass and exposing the rock hard flesh rod between his legs. I grab him with one hand and pull my underwear out of the way with the other. He’s thick and long and ready.

I spread myself with my fingers and guide him into me.

His head slides past my lips with no problem. Then, I feel his shaft stretching me open. It’s been so long.

“Don’t be gentle,” I tell him. “I want you to fuck me.”

I let go of him as he pushes into me, stretching me in every direction as I’m unable to take all of him at first. I moan as he pulls back and slides in again.

I tilt my head back on the bed and pant as he rams his hips into me. I run my hands through his hair.

As my juices coat his shaft, he slides more easily in and out of me. I gasp when he shoves himself all the way into me for the first time, driving himself all the way to the base of his shaft. I grab his shoulders and pull him down, forcing him to release my breasts and put his hands on the bed. I bury my face in his shoulder.

“Oh, God, Slate,” I moan as I try to adjust to the way his hard shaft fills me. I relish the way his name rolls off my tongue, so easy to say as if it were crafted for my mouth.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” He lifts himself up and drives into me slowly. He does this again and again, his strokes becoming increasingly measured and drawn out as if he knows how close he’s bringing me to orgasm.

“It’s been so long,” I breathe, pulling him down and arching my back. I wrap my arms around him again, holding his solid, hard body against mine.

He angles his hips just right so his head runs against my g-spot every time he slides in or out of me. My breath jerks from my chest in jagged bursts.

“I’m so close,” I whisper.

He pulls my arms down from his neck and pins them to the bed, stroking himself deep into me and restraining me so I have to take it as he gives it.

I feel myself growing wetter as a ball of ecstasy grows deep in the pit of my pleasure. My body shivers slightly, and he stops, pushing himself against me with his shaft fully inside of me. The pleasure tips over to pain slightly before erupting from between my legs. I feel myself flooding him, and my body quakes beneath him.

I pull my hands free and press them against his lower back, holding him to me while I rock my hips against him, driving him deeper into me, triggering my pleasure again and again.

I can hear him panting above me, can feel him growing harder inside of me. He’s straining, like he’s holding himself back from coming for me.

Or rather coming
inside
me.

I let him pull back and slide out of me. He pushes my tank top up over my breasts and I feel his warmth spilling onto my stomach. Each drop sends another jolt of pleasure through my body. I rub my breasts and squeeze my nipples as I writhe on the bed, my body still throbbing with ecstasy.

I open my eyes and see him kneeling above me, stroking himself.

Then, it hits me that I just had unprotected sex with my attorney, who is, in fact, little more than a stranger.

Chapter Seven

Slate

“Can I have a towel?” Rose asks timidly, the shock of what happened between us glowing in her eyes.

“Sure,” I say gently as I slide off the bed and head to the bathroom.

The sex had been spontaneous and lustful. We didn’t even kiss once while we fucked. I know she’s probably horrified by what we did, but her body needed it. So did her mind. It was natural for her to want to keep thoughts of the horror of the last few days at bay, and what better way than fucking? I know I’ll have little luck convincing her, though I’m still going to try. I grab the towel draped over the shower curtain rod and take it back to her.

I return to her and sit on the bed. Instead of handing her the towel, I wipe away the white ribbons of cum on her stomach, taking my time to make sure I get it all. I drop the towel on the floor and keep a hand on her soft stomach, but she pushes my hand away and pulls the sheets up immediately, covering herself and hiding her body. She rolls away from me.

“I’m sorry,” she says into the near-darkness of the room. “I don’t know what came over me. I don’t normally do that sort of thing.”

I place a gentle hand on her back. “It’s okay,” I tell her. “It’s perfectly normal.”

“Yeah, I bet it happens all the time for you, doesn’t it?”

“Not as often as you’d expect,” I tell her, stroking her hair and rubbing her back. “In fact, I don’t make a habit of sleeping with my clients.”

“You don’t have to stay in here,” she says. “I’m not trying to get you tangled up in my personal drama. I didn’t mean to drag you into bed with me. I just had a nightmare and overreacted, I guess.” The defeat in her voice hurts worse than her accusing tone a moment ago.

I lie down on top of the covers next to her and pull her against me. “It’s okay to want some comfort after everything you’ve been through, Rose. It’s perfectly reasonable to need to connect with someone.”

“But that doesn’t make what we did right,” she argues.

“What we did was perfectly fine,” I assure her. “We both needed someone, and I’m glad we were here for each other.” I rub her arm with one hand while I slide my other arm under her pillow. “You shouldn’t feel ashamed for needing or wanting to connect with another person. I don’t.”

She doesn’t say anything for a while, then she turns to face me. “You needed someone, too? Or just a body to fuck because you were horny?”

I smile. “I know it makes me sound full of myself, but I can screw a woman anytime I want, Rose. Tonight, I wanted you.”

She stares silently at me before visibly relaxing.

“I’m confused,” she says. “I shouldn’t be trying to connect with anyone right now, least of all my lawyer. We just met. I don’t even know anything about you.”

I kiss her delicate shoulder. “It’s okay,” I tell her again. “I’m here to help you in any way I can.” I kiss her again. “What we did wasn’t only about you, it was about me. I slept with you because I wanted to be inside your gorgeous body.”

I don’t tell her I’ve wanted her from the moment I saw her in her yearbook picture. I don’t tell her I’ve been hoping for a moment like this since I got her back to the house with me. I don’t want to burden her with my desire. She has enough to worry about now.

I kiss her neck. “You shouldn’t sell yourself short.”

“What do mean, Slate?”

I love the way she says my name, like she’s savoring the taste. It sounds like she could swallow it as easily as say it. “I mean you’re a beautiful and intelligent woman, and you should be proud of that. Don’t deny yourself what you want. But …” I clear my throat and say gently, “I don’t have anything to offer you beyond physical release. I’m not looking for a girlfriend or a wife.”

She stares at me wide-eyed, then laughs, the sound bitter. “Believe me, as much as I sounded like I was feeling sorry for myself, I’m not looking for a relationship either. The last thing I want is to tie myself to another man when the last one tried to kill me.”

“I wanted to be honest and upfront,” I say, even as I cringe inside. I’ve been far from honest. I’ve been lying to her since the moment we met.

“I appreciate that. And I appreciate the orgasm and how you helped me forget, for a little while, what a mess my life is. But you can go back to your bed now. I’m fine.”

“What if I don’t want leave yet? What if I want to stay until you fall asleep? Would that be okay?”

She hesitates, and I can tell the idea of me staying until she falls asleep appeals to her. Without saying a word, she presses her body against mine and nestles against me. I feel the remaining tension leaving her body as I slide into the sheets behind her. She melts against me.

I slide my arm around her waist and press myself against the curve of her ass. Her body is so soft and inviting. I feel myself wanting to get back inside her. To tell her that while we can’t have more, we can certainly take advantage of the time we have together while we can. But I push the idea from my mind. She needs more than sex right now.

“Thank you,” she says sleepily.

“For what?”

“For taking such good care of me. It’s really more than I could have asked for.”

“It’s the least I could do. You deserve to be taken care of,” I assure her.

“I don’t know,” she argues. “Not after everything that’s happened.” Her words are beginning to slur as sleep attempts to reclaim her.

I kiss the top of her head. “You’re fine. Don’t worry about anything right now.”

“I wish it was that easy. You telling me and me obeying.” Her voice drifts off.

“Goodnight, Rose,” I whisper.

“Goodnight,” she whispers back to me.

I lie with her in my arms and listen to her breathing as she drifts off to sleep. Soon, her breaths grow more rhythmic and measured. Her chest heaves under the sheets next to me.

I find myself staring at her, taking in every detail of her beauty, long after she’s fallen asleep. Finally, I slide out of bed, careful not to disturb her as I get up to go back to my own bed.

I don’t spend the night with women. Ever.

I stop at the door to the guestroom and look back at her sleeping peacefully. I carefully close the door so she has her privacy and trudge back to my own bed. I know she’ll be fine. As for myself, I’ve got to shake my attraction to her. I’m no good for her. And being attracted to her could compromise my ability to do my job here.

As I go back to bed, I tell myself it’s time to rededicate myself to the task at hand. I have to find out what she knows, if anything. It’s time to stop playing hero.

As I drift off to sleep, though, I can’t help but think about how good it felt to be inside of her. Sure, the sex was the product of our lust for each other, but it would be foolish to pretend there wasn’t something else going on.

We connect on some level deeper than purely physical, and I’ve never been able to say that about a woman before.

“You’ve already told her how it has to be, Slate. Now you have to accept it yourself,” I tell myself in the dark of my room. “Even if you wanted a relationship with her, she’d never accept you for who you really are. Remember that, damn it.” My voice sounds detached, as though it’s coming from somewhere else in the room as my words echo in my sleepy mind.

Of course she wouldn’t accept me. Not if she knew what I really was. Everything I’d done. Where I’d come from.

I was the son of a man who’d beaten his wife to death and was currently serving life in prison. I was a man still working for King, even though I was now an adult and not the young orphan who King had rescued and taken advantage of all those years ago.

I was a man who could have nothing more than a single night of passion with a kindergarten teacher. With a sweet, wonderful, amazing woman like Rose who deserved much better than him.

Chapter Eight

Rose

I woke to sunlight spilling into my room through the glass doors leading onto my balcony, and my mind immediately forms an image of Josh. But no, that was a dream, I tell myself. Josh is dead, and he can’t hurt me.

I hold the covers up to my chest as I slide back against the wooden headboard, letting the cool, smooth surface connect with my skin. I pull the covers up and look at the sheets. There aren’t any blood stains anywhere on the bed or on the floor. I look around the room. When I’m sure no one else is in the room with me, I let out a sigh of relief.

I release my grip on the sheets. As my panic subsides, though, I realize it wasn’t
all
a dream.

I’m still wearing the tank top and panties I’d worn to bed.

But I’m sore.

Even though I should feel ashamed and guilty, a smile spreads across my face as I remember Slate breathing in the darkness, his muscular chest and stomach brushing against me. I imagine I can still feel his weight bearing down as his hips thrust into me, driving his thick, long shaft into my core.

I feel my tender center getting wet again at the thought of Slate pounding into me on this very bed, even though what we did was wrong.

He’s my attorney, and sleeping together hadn’t been smart.

My smile fades. The butterflies in my stomach, excited at the prospect of seeing him once I go downstairs, turn to nerves, anxious over having to face him after our reckless night of sex.