Chapter Three #2
No, he’s not as unaffected as he wants everyone to think. I almost would have believed that all this doesn’t bother him, if I weren’t staring right into the man’s eyes.
I believe him. Christ, I don’t know if it’s because I want him to be innocent, but somehow, I believe him.
I was raised to have respect for the system. To believe in it. But I know the system has cracks. I’ve seen people who deserved to be locked up get away scot-free, and I’ve seen innocent people locked up.
“Hmm, okay,” I say, making a note to request the case files and police reports from his first conviction, and the report and police dash cam footage from Trigger being pulled over this time.
If someone is going to jail for this case, then it sure as hell will not be Trigger.
“Alright, I’m going to do my very best to keep you from going back to prison, I promise you that. ”
“Just like that, you believe me?”
“You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?”
“Yes.”
“Then I believe you.”
His brow furrows, and the blank stare slips to reveal something underneath.
Something…heated. Something so magnetic it pulls at me.
And in the moment, I almost forget that we’re not alone.
I want to touch him, run my fingers through his beard, kiss the scar on his throat.
I want to bury my face in his neck and breathe him in, close my eyes and just sink deeper into his scent.
Then I’ll kiss him. My first kiss. I’ll give him everything.
The sound of someone clearing their throat is the one thing that stops me from closing the distance between us and doing something as crazy as kissing my client.
Christ, what’s wrong with me?
Maybe I’m just tired. It’s been a heck of a day, and all this has been a lot to take in. That coupled with the turmoil happening in my heart, a raging war between what my body craves and what my mind knows is right.
“Let’s shelve this for another day.” It’s the ever-quiet Hawk who breaks the tense silence. “You did a great job in court today.” I offer him a small smile, surprised that his praise doesn’t affect me the same way Trigger’s did. “Can I offer you a ride home?”
I start to speak, to say that I’ll simply grab a taxi, when Trigger cuts in. “I’ll give her a ride,” he says, his voice leaving no room for argument.
“Well then, have a great evening, Miss Halloway.”
I nod at the men and follow Trigger out.
We don’t speak as he leads me to a bank of elevators, or even when we’re inside.
I’m too mortified by my reaction back at the office to even look him in the eye.
It’s not until the elevator doors open to an underground lot that I allow myself to look up from the floor.
“Oh, wow.”
My mouth opens in surprise at the scene in front of me.
Rows and rows of neatly parked bikes are gleaming seductively under the fluorescent light.
Trigger leads me down the rows and stops next to a large motorcycle, all black and bronze.
There’s no chrome or frills like Hawk’s bike.
The Rebels’ insignia etched on the tank is the only thing that connects the man to the club. It’s a beast. And it hums like one.
I smile despite myself when I settle behind the large man and wrap my arms around him. I bite my lip when his T-shirt slips slightly and my fingers connect with his bare skin. My heart jumps in my throat when I touch his abs. He’s strong, solid. And warm. Christ, he’s so warm.
He doesn’t make a move to straighten his shirt and I make none to withdraw my hands, keeping them on his bare skin as he turns his head to ask for my address. I call it out before settling in for the ride.
“Are you ready?” he asks in a low murmur.
“Yeah,” I say, laying my head on his back as he tears from the lot.
I pride myself on being smart and knowing the right thing to do, but…what I am doing now is not being smart. I’m playing with fire and I know it. I can’t help it.
I watch the city fly by as I try not to think of the skin I’m touching and how the consequences of the choices I’m making now could ruin my life. But right now, I don’t care. I close my eyes and revel in the moment, and the next time I open them, we’re parked right outside my building.
“We’re here,” he says, and I realize that I don’t want to climb off the bike and leave him. He helps me take off my helmet when I finally get off, and I expect him to get back on his bike and ride off, but he offers to walk me inside.
I should say no.
I should do a whole host of things that I haven’t been doing.
Tomorrow, I tell myself. Tomorrow, I’ll come back to my senses, but tonight I can allow myself to be walked to the door by a handsome man. A man who I’ll pretend for the moment is most definitely not my client.
I turn to Trigger when we step into the elevator and decide to fill the tense silence with some chatter. “So, um, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other, huh?”
“We will,” he says, turning those steel-blue eyes to me.
I instantly regret talking because now I have to follow up with something and…
I have nothing. The way he looks at me? It’s a wonder I have any thoughts left when he’s scraped everything off.
“Thanks to you, I’ll be sleeping in my own bed tonight and not in some pest-infected mattress in some dingy cell. ”
Say something.
Anything.
“Yeah, those are the worst.”
Jesus Christ. It’s almost like I forgot how to have a proper conversation. What I would do to revert to the moment right before I opened my mouth.
I nearly sigh in relief when the elevator opens up to my floor. Trigger follows me when I step out and walks me to my door. I fumble with the keys, my fingers trembling as I slide them into the keyhole, wondering if I should invite him in and what will happen when I do.
“You did such a great job today, Maeve,” he rasps, stepping forward and lifting his hand to my cheek.
My eyelids flutter and my lips part when he strokes his thumb over my cheek in a move so intimate it sends my heart pounding against my rib cage and my body fiercely aroused. “So fierce. So…beautiful.”
I nearly whine when he drops his hand and moves back, the humor dancing in his eyes telling me he knows all too well the effect this game he’s playing has on me.
“Trigger—”
“Get some rest, Miss Halloway. Like you said, we’ll be seeing a lot of each other.”
With a knowing smile, he turns around and walks away, leaving my mind confused and heart raging.
My knees are trembling as I let myself into the apartment.
Heck, I even convince myself that a shower will help erase the man’s touch, and by the time I’m slipping into bed, I almost have myself convinced that I dreamed up my reaction to his touch. That it never really happened.
Those steel-blue eyes never stared at me like they wanted to strip me naked. Those hands didn’t leave a storm of heat everywhere they touched.
I didn’t spend twenty minutes of the ride here feeling up the man’s abs. Those delicious muscles, strong and warm.
That voice…
“Oh God,” I whimper as I feel wetness spread in my core, arousal leaving me achy all over. My breasts are sensitive, and I bite back a moan as my nipples rub against the soft cotton of my spaghetti-strap pajama top when I move.
I know better than to indulge in these needs, considering who it is that arouses them in me.
I should pull the blanket over my head and forget about him, but when I reach down, it’s to slip my hand into my pajama pants.
When I close my eyes, it’s his dark blue eyes I see, so dark they mirror a glacier.
It’s that deep voice I hear in my head, urging me to do it.
To rub off the ache he left behind.
I slide my finger through my folds and into the wetness of my sex, heaving out a sharp breath when my fingers brush my clit.
“Trigger,” I whimper, sliding my other hand under my top and palming my left breast, stroking my nipples as I picture his hands doing it for me.
Those large, calloused hands strumming my aching nipples, playing with them until I’m writhing helplessly under him.
“You were magnificent in that courtroom. I’m in awe of you.”
I moan as wetness floods my sex, slicking my finger as it strokes around my clit. I don’t bother to acknowledge or question why his praise arouses me. Nothing about the man makes sense. It doesn’t need to.
Not in this moment.
“So fierce. So beautiful.”
“Oh!” My head falls back as I work my finger faster and faster, panting as every stroke sends me closer to the edge. I pinch my nipples, trembling as I picture his hands on my body. It’s that deep, raspy voice, those heated eyes, that sexy body in the room with me. “So close.”
It tears through me like a fucking tornado. My hips shoot off the bed as a raging storm of an orgasm leaves me shaking all over. I work my fingers harder on my pulsing sex, drawing out the pleasure until I’m sensitive and wrung out, but the ache remains.
Once my body has calmed down, I bury my face in my pillow and scream, kicking my feet in frustration.
He’s a criminal. My client. A rebel.
I want him. But I can’t have him.
If I want to prove to my dad that women can be tough enough to do this job, and if I want to prove to myself that I have what it takes to be the best, then fraternizing with a client is the biggest no-no.
My cheeks flood with shame. I know better.
I resolve that tomorrow, I’ll move forward with this case like the professional I am.