Chapter 22
washington
. . .
Eyes half-closed, spirit halfway home, I struck my gavel to end the court hearing.
I hit that sucker hard enough to mean business.
If I could imprint my size-eleven Italian loafer on the back of the kid walking out, just a little tap for the frustration he’d given me, I would’ve.
But, nah. I was a professional. And more importantly, I kept hope alive!
Tomorrow night at the winery, in the right suit, I’d make Madison forget Shonda’s no-touching, no-heat, no-fun contract.
I stood and unzipped my robe when the bailiff cleared his throat. A familiar Bruh, I hate to tell you this. He said, “You’ve got one last case on the docket.”
“Since when? I’ve got somewhere to be.” And someone to ruin. Tomorrow. But I’d prepared for that.
He gave a don’t-shoot-the-messenger shrug and strolled to the double doors.
With a voice that could fill a stadium, the clerk announced, “The State of Louisiana versus Madison Selene Spencer.”
My heart tripped.
Then my mouth curved.
Madison swaggered inside, hips an ocean as if she’d practiced in the hall while adjusting her lip gloss. She wore all orange. The dress hugged her curves like it had beef with me. Please. That fabric didn’t stand a chance with a desperate man. I’d fight dirty to unwrap the sweetness underneath.
I leaned back and shook my head. “You nailed the dress code right for an Orange Is the New Black reboot. You might wanna be careful. A big butch baddy named Fade Fresh Felicia …” I used those crisp barbershop haircuts to name Madison’s would-be prison stalkers.
“And her sidekick Low Fade Loretta are gonna fight over all that.”
My eyes pinned the stenographer, her three-inch fingernails on the move, recording every word I said. Like always, I admit that. But the moment I beheld my wife, her brown skin glowing against the orange, nobody else existed.
“Everybody out.”
Everyone fled, but it took Creepy Nails a few seconds to get up, her nosy, beady eyes ready to jot down anything I said on the way out.
You’re not getting any action, sis. Kick rocks!
Madison watched the stenographer go, then strolled toward the counsel table. She stopped in front of the defense’s side, planted her palms on the ledge, and sat. Her legs opened just wide enough to steal the breath from my lungs before one slid over the other, smooth, thick thighs offering a taunt.
Lord.
She looked too good to correct.
Madison glanced back toward the hallway doors, checked the windows to confirm nobody was watching. “Your stenographer is about that life. Very nosy. You think she and Latrice take lunch?”
Hell, yeah, but the only thing I cared about sat five feet from me. I stepped down from the bench, my eyes tracking every breath she took, that dress straining against her breasts. “Woman, you walked in here looking like a whole snack smuggled across state lines.”
Madison smiled, soft, dangerous, enough to raise the temperature throughout the entire courtroom.
When I leaned in to kiss her, fireworks exploded in her eyes. Teasing, she pulled away. “At-at, you’re on the good side, Sir Sentence-a-Lot. Anyway, I’m here to see if I could cut it as a criminal.” She tapped one finger on my chest.
Kiss denied, I played dirty too. I took her legs in my hands, unhooked them, and thrust her forward on the desk, planting myself between her thighs. Her breath hitched, and her hands gripped the edge of the table.
“Criminal?” I was a second away from taking that mouth. “Bébé, the moment you walked in wearing that dress, you committed premeditated arousal.”
Her lips brushed mine, a tease, as she whispered, “Didn’t know that was a crime. All that talk about the Fade twins? I won’t manage a life in prison.”
“Oh, you gone manage,” I said a few things in Kouri Vini, because she’d taken it there. “Don’t play with me now, bébé. You wanna be bad?”
My mouth found her jaw, then her throat, as she gasped and curled her fingers into my shirt.
“You gotta get booked,” I whispered, sliding her farther still, until there wasn’t an inch between us. “And bent.”
She trembled, laughing breathlessly in my ear. “Washington …”
“Come with me,” I murmured, guiding her toward the judge’s chamber, heat roiling between us. “Before Low Fade Loretta files a claim on that ass first.”
Her laugh was warm, flustered, and sinful. “Lock the door and protect all of this.”
In my chambers, I damn near barricaded the door. Not because of any prying eyes. She wasn’t leaving looking this good.
I planted her on my desk and pressed my lips to hers, kissing her for all those times I hadn’t in the past few years. The way her tongue moved against mine melted the stress off me. I stripped the robe to the floor.
Her hands fisted my shirt, and her kiss stole the sanity I had left. My arms wrapped around her waist, pressing her against me. I needed more. More of the taste of her.
I lifted her up and walked her backward until her shoulders touched the wall.
My framed diplomas and licenses rattled, then crashed to the ground. Okay, maybe I body-slammed Madison by accident.
“My bad,” I murmured, already spinning her gently so her palms met the wall. Her back arched, and her breath came warm and quick. “Lemme kiss away the pain.”
She looked over her shoulder at me, eyes narrowed, lips parted, looking like the prettiest woman at a police stop gone wrong. “Wait …”
I froze, my lips trailing over her shoulder, mid-kiss, mid-worship, mid-what I thought was everything and meant everything.
“Who’ve you been kissing, Washington?”
My laughter dropped so low it almost hit the broken frame on the floor. “You, bébé. Come on.”
I slid my hands up her hips, hiking her dress. When she spoke, her voice was full of playful suspicion. “I had to check. Boy, you’re kissing me so good I got jealous.”
I pressed my body against her back, feeling her soften and melt all at once. “You’re crazy, Maddy.”
She laughed, more tender than with her usual jokes, deeper than the fire burning between us. Love met lust when her eyes landed on me again, humor blending with the ache we’d carried since Shonda.
“I’m crazy,” she whispered, “but I’m yours. And I was thinking with you behind me.” She lifted her shoulder and then leaned into the kiss I planted on her nape, my hands already at work at the silk of her thong. “Maybe nothing happened, Washington. I didn’t see it. Nothing happened.”
I blinked.
“You’d better not let this reach Shonda.” Her smile turned wicked. “Because if she asks, we chatted feelings in here. That’s all I saw.”
She turned her face enough for our mouths to meet. After I kissed her, she murmured against my mouth, “And if Shonda asks why I’m glowing next Tuesday?”
I unzipped my pants. “I’ma tell her we made emotional progress.”
Her laugh broke. And when I pressed myself to her again in a way only she’d ever known, no therapy contract could stop this.