Off Limits (14 page)

I am so screwed
, I think vaguely, somewhere in the depths of the still-sane part of my brain. And I don’t even care. In fact, I fucking love it
.

I
cannot get enough
of this woman.

That’s the thought on my mind as I watch her beside me, her perfectly-shaped bare chest rising and falling with the easy motion of sleep.

It’s past 2am, and we both need to be up and in the office early tomorrow. We have a meeting at 10 with some of the hardcore “rubbers,” and I want to get there at least half an hour beforehand to finish sorting through my notes from this weekend. I’d planned to do that when I got home tonight, but, well. . .

I preferred the distracting turn my night took a whole lot more, let’s just say that.

Chloe sighs in her sleep and stirs, curling up on her side. My arm is still draped around her waist—half the reason I’m awake is that my arm has fallen asleep, and the pins and needles are nagging at me. I don’t want to move my arm though. I want to keep touching her, the way I have been all night, half in disbelief still that this is happening, that we’re finally doing this.

She’s been on my mind and at the fore of my imagination for weeks now, and yet, I never imagined anything quite this satisfying. As if something had been missing from my life all along, a hole I’d never noticed was there, until she came along and filled it.

I feel more than into her. I feel in danger of getting addicted.

But addictions aren’t all highs. Addictions come with some pretty awful lows, when you hit that inevitable comedown. So what happens when that hits us?

What happens when this, inevitably, falls apart? Because a fire this intense . . . can it really burn that hot forever?

Goddamn it, Chloe is as dirty between the sheets as she is proper in the courtroom. I’ll never admit it, but I can already tell that the woman knows exactly how to push every single one of my buttons. Over and over and over. From our first desperate, fast-paced hookup on the couch, we made it as far as her bathroom, presumably for a cold shower to cool down and get to sleep early, “since we have to work in the morning,” she kept reminding me between long, sensuous kisses, her naked body pressed against mine.

Yeah, the shower didn’t help. Although I did enjoy soaping up her back, tracing my hands over every inch of her skin, memorizing her, and then letting my hands trail down, lower, lower, encircling her hips, pulling her against me, and swirling my index finger around her clit again and again, until she was moaning and writhing against me, her perky ass rubbing against my hard cock the whole time.

From the shower, we made it as far as her bedroom before she pushed me against the bedroom door and dropped to her knees on the soft carpet. I’ve had my fair share of sex in my life, and some damn good blow jobs too, but never one quite like Chloe’s. Who’d have thought her pert little mouth could swallow my whole cock? She does not have any kind of a gag reflex to speak of. And where that girl learned to use her hands, I will never know.

She stirs beside me, again, and rolls over in my arms, until we’re face-to-face, her breath hot on my cheek.

Her eyes are open.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “Did I wake you?”

She sighs again and shakes her head. “I’ve been awake for a while. Even breathing didn’t do the trick like it normally does.”

I frown down at her. There’s a worry line pinched between her delicate eyebrows, creasing the bridge of her small, pointed nose. I lean in to kiss those spots, one after another, to try and soothe them away. But when I draw back in bed, she’s still frowning, still pinched with worry.

“What’s wrong?” I murmur, pulling her closer to me. My arm fires with pins and needles again, but she allows me to pull her in against my chest, her skin fiery warm against mine, huddled under her thick, downy comforter. I trace my fingers along her back in slow, gentle circles.

“I can’t stop thinking about tomorrow. About going back to our regular lives.”

Yeah, me too,
I think. But I don’t open my mouth to reply, not yet. Because as much as I might be worrying the same thing right now, I’m even more worried at the thought of losing her already.

I’m not ready to let Chloe MacIntyre go.

She turns her head away from me, breaking eye contact, as though she can’t stand looking at me while she admits any of this. She stares over my shoulder, across the empty room, but I feel the vibration of her voice in my chest, where her breasts press against my pecs. “This,” she says, tilting her head toward me. “It’s going to complicate everything.”

“It might,” I admit. I smooth her hair back from her forehead with one hand, gently. “Or it might not. We can’t know that yet.”

“How could it not? I mean. . .” I can feel the bob of her throat against my skin when she swallows. “Look, I know this was probably just another one night stand for you—”

“Stop right there, Chlo.” I tighten my arm around her, just enough to draw her back from my chest, until she looks up at me. When she does, I lift my hand to trace her cheek, her jawline, keeping my eyes locked on hers. “
You
are not the kind of woman I would let get away after only one night.” I tweak her chin gently. “I expect plenty more sex where that last session came from, hear me?”

I expect that to at least relax her a little bit, or at least to win me a laugh, but her shoulders are still tensed up around her ears, and there’s still a faraway, nervous look in her eye. “You say that now. . .” she whispers.

“I’ll say that anytime you ask me,” I interrupt. “Contrary to popular belief, you know, I’m not the office manwhore you seem to think I am.”

Her lips quirk into an almost smile, though she doesn’t respond.

She doesn’t need to. I already know what she thinks of me, that’s the problem. “Chloe, I haven’t done this with anyone else from our office before.”

She lifts an eyebrow now, straight-up skeptical. “What, not even Hannah?”

I have to laugh. Hannah is a secretary for an entirely different wing of the floor. I’m pretty sure the only reason Chloe even knows the girl’s name is because Hannah does, I’ll admit, make it a pretty obvious point to follow me around the floor on a regular basis. And, yes, I flirt with her. I mean, who wouldn’t? But that’s just a distraction. That’s not really what I’m looking for—someone who’s only drawn to my looks and bank account. “Not even Hannah,” I tell her, straight-faced. “I know what the gossip-mongers like to say, but honestly, she’s not my type.”

She looks even more doubtful, if possible. “And I am?”

My hand still lingers on her cheek, but now I let it graze down her neck to trace her collarbone. My eyes trail after it, making sure she sees me take in her body, every beautiful, glorious inch of her. “Oh, you are exactly my type.” I glance back up at her, half-grinning now. “I don’t just mean physically, either. You’re smart, you’re funny—”

She rolls her eyes and rolls off of my chest with a groan. “I wasn’t asking for a pity pep talk, okay.”

“I’m serious! Chlo, I’m not sure you realize how unique you are.”

She shrugs one shoulder limply. “Sure I do. I just don’t think anyone else really . . . notices.”

“Well I did. I
do
notice. Every day.”

She finally looks at me, really looks at me, again, and while there’s still a little frown of worry lurking between her eyes, the worst of it seems to have smoothed away.

“Look, whatever’s going to happen in the future, I already know I won’t regret you. I won’t regret tonight. Will you?”

She shakes her head, slow and smooth, but in an immediate, instinctive response.

“Good.” I run my fingers through her hair again, tangling them a little in her long blonde curls. “So let’s just savor the moment tonight, and whatever comes our way tomorrow, whatever the fallout for us both is at work or wherever . . . we’ll face it together. Okay?”

I offer her my hand to shake, like we’re making a deal. And maybe we are. After all, neither of us can predict the future. We can’t tell if this whole thing will go down in flames in a few days or weeks or in a month’s time when this case finishes. But we can agree to be mature about it, and more importantly, to enjoy the moment right now. Constant worrying about the future will only make the future hit you all the harder and faster.

She curls her fingers around mine, but instead of shaking my hand, she pulls it to her mouth and kisses her way along my fingertips. A coil of heat unfurls in my stomach at the sensation, and my cock twitches at the memory of those soft, smooth lips wrapped around my shaft instead.

“Okay,” she agrees, her breath a whisper on my fingers. “We figure it out together. Just like this case.”

I slide my hand from hers in order to cup her head, tilt her face up to mine. Our eyes lock for a long, quiet moment. “Just like this case,” I reply. Then I kiss her, slow and soft, and she melts against me, that soft body folding into mine once more, even as my cock hardens in response. Fuck, she feels good. More than good, she feels
right
. Like this is where I’ve wanted to be all along, only I never knew it existed.

Before I realize what I’m doing, I have both hands around her waist, and I’m pulling her on top of me, straddling me, our lips still working at each other’s, our mouths desperate and our kisses gaining urgency with every flick of our tongues.

She reaches down between us to caress my cock, slides her fingers along my length. I grope for the condom in my jeans pocket, which I left on the nightstand—shit, I’ll need to buy more tomorrow, I’m down to my last one. To be honest I’ve never needed this many in a single night before. Chloe squeezes her thighs around my hips in anticipation.

Yeah. We’ll figure this out.

But in the meantime, we’re going to fucking savor the moment.

* * *

W
hen I wake
up the next morning, Chloe’s already showered and dressed. Actually, it’s the sound of her heels clacking in the kitchen that wake me. For a moment I stare in confusion at the unfamiliar ceiling, a smooth ceiling with recessed lighting and a skylight, not a cracked, bumpy ceiling with an ugly and admittedly kind of dusty ceiling fan like mine. I roll over to pat the sheets beside me.

Cold.

Then I push myself upright with a groan and squint at the clock.

7:52am. We don’t need to be in the office until 9 at the earliest, and it’s less than a fifteen-minute drive away.

I fling the covers back and lever myself out of the bed. The carpet tingles against my bare feet. I pad across it, then shiver as I reach the hallway toward the dining room and kitchen area, which is a hardwood floor, cold on my soles. The whole apartment is pretty chilly, in fact, given that I sleep in the buff.

I step into the kitchen, still naked, and Chloe, bent over the fridge, startles upright when I clear my throat. She also turns bright red when she glances over at me, and her eyes lock onto my cock as if she’s never seen it before.

“Hey,” I greet her, frowning a little. “Everything okay?”

“Why wouldn’t it be?” She recovers from her apparent surprise, straightening and slamming the fridge door shut. In her hands, she grips a cup of yogurt and a single apple. I expect her to sit down at the dining room table to eat, but instead she shoves them both into her purse, already waiting on the kitchen counter.

“Did something crop up? New meeting?” I reach up to the cabinet to grab a glass for water, and her eyes do the trailing over me again thing, her cheeks not going fully red-hot this time, but still pretty pink as she checks me out yet again.

Not gonna lie, I could get used to the constant appreciative stares from her. It’s fair play, I figure, since I spent all night last night gazing at her in pretty much the same way. Hell, even in that tight little work pencil skirt and her fitted blazer, she’s still smoking hot. You can just make out the curve of her ass in the skirt, though to be honest, her ass looks much better naked, especially sticking up in front of me while she’s bent over a couch. . .

“No, I just. . .” She licks her lips, tears her gaze from my cock, looking me in the eye. I can’t help the little smirk that rises on my face at that point. Of course she can’t keep her eyes off of me, even now that she’s playing coy.

But then she frowns. “I thought it might be a good idea to stagger our arrival times, y’know? If we both suddenly show up at the same time, riding the same Bart train, that would arouse suspicion, don’t you think?”

Worrying already. But of course, that’s just like her. “Chloe, we’re fine. We take public transit. It’s perfectly normal to get there at the same time.”

“Well still. I’d just feel safer if . . . you understand, right?” She crosses the kitchen toward me, unable to resist any longer, which is good, because neither can I. I wrap my arms around her waist, while she flings hers around my neck. In her sky high heels, she’s tall enough that our lips are just inches apart—no need to bend down.

I take advantage and kiss her, long and slow. I savor the sensation of her relaxing in my arms, leaning against me, one of her legs sliding between mine. I drop one hand to grip her ass through that tight little skirt, and she moans softly into the kiss, her body tense with desire.

“Stay a while,” I murmur, before I trail my lips down her neck, nipping and sucking lightly my way down, not hard enough to leave a mark. Just enough to make her shiver against me.