17. Abigail
ABIGAIL
One glass in, and the weight on my chest eases. Though to be fair, it’s less the wine and more Will’s relentless pep talk that almost convinces me I’m not a lost cause. I don’t want to wallow, but how did I miss something so obvious?
“Come here often?” I say, over the chatter.
“Worked here through law school,” he says, swirling his whiskey.
I blink. “Isn’t your family worth like a billion dollars?”
He barks a laugh. “Combined, we don’t even scratch half that.”
Only a few hundred million? How quaint. Every rich list pegs him and his brothers between twenty-five and a hundred fifty mil each, not that I’d ever ask. Funny, though. He’s got the car, the apartment, the tailored wardrobe, but underneath, he’s surprisingly normal.
“But you couldn’t cover law school?” I raise a brow. “Things must’ve been dire.”
“I wanted to do it myself.” He watches me carefully, bracing for judgment. “Mostly for me. I needed to know I could do it without a leg up.”
“That’s…” I fumble. “Stupid. You could’ve aced every class without slinging drinks.”
“I did ace every class.” He gives me that infuriating smirk. Of course he did.
“You’re too clever for your own good.”
“Your words.” His grin is sharp, but his eyes stay guarded. There’s a tightness in his jaw, like he’s biting back whatever he’s really thinking. Maybe it’s the meetings he canceled. I’m not stupid. I know he doesn’t have free afternoons lying around.
But I couldn’t help it. I could’ve been strong on my own. Then he showed up, and I let myself be weak. Just for a moment. Because being alone felt unbearable, and he…he’s just so there. Supportive all night, but the way his fingers drum against his thigh betrays him.
I tilt my head. “What’s wrong?”
He hesitates, then exhales. “Come work for me.”
“What?”
“I don’t like Neil.” His voice dips. “Not one bit.”
It’s almost sweet, how furious he is. And he doesn’t even know the half of it. How ugly Neil can really get. I should be mad about him answering my phone, but the truth is, no one’s ever had my back like that.
I liked it.
“I can’t just drop my cases,” I say.
“Name your price. Triple your salary? A signing bonus?”
His hand finds mine.
For once, I don’t question his intentions. I’d been guarding myself, convinced he had some angle. But now, it’s clear. This isn’t a game to him.
His phone buzzes with silent reminders. Meetings he’s not taking. He cleared his entire afternoon. For me.
His thumb brushes over my knuckles, and the air shifts.
“I can’t work for you,” I say.
“Why not?” His grip tightens.
I lean in, close enough to smell the glass of whiskey he’s been nursing on his breath.
“Having your girlfriend on payroll isn’t a good look.”
The words hang between us.
“Girlfriend?” His usual swagger is gone, replaced by something raw.
“Yeah.” I shrug.
A slow, boyish grin breaks across his face. For a second, he looks at me like I’m the only thing in the room. Then his eyes darken.
“Car,” he says, already pulling me to my feet. “Now.”
Will barely managed to park before we were through my front door, hands all over each other.
His mouth was hot, hungry on mine. His fingers slid under my shirt while mine fumbled with his belt.
We slammed into the wall, a collision of teeth, breath, and frantic touch.
Behind us, a picture frame shattered. I didn’t care.
Now I’m on the mattress, his weight pinning me down.
Lean muscle, taut and trembling with need.
His lips follow the thrum of my pulse, whiskey-warm and teasing, but the rasp of his stubble draws a gasp from deep in my throat.
I hook a leg over his hip, drag him closer, swallow the low groan that escapes him as our bodies align.
Every inch of him is hard, pressing into me with purpose.
“I should’ve pulled over and taken you in the car,” he says against my mouth, as he’s yanking at our clothes. Buttons fly. His shirt is gone. My nails scrape down his abs, and he jerks against me with a hiss.
“Then don’t waste time now,” I pant, arching into him as his teeth graze my collarbone.
He laughs, dark and low. Then his mouth is everywhere. My breasts, my waist, the tender spot inside of my thigh. Every kiss sears. Every nip sends sparks racing through my body. When his tongue glides over me I arch off the bed, breath catching.
“Will,” I gasp, my voice trembling, barely more than a whisper. “I need you.”
His tongue is magic, every flick, every press, but it’s not enough. I can’t take it anymore.
“Right now,” I snap.
He stills, then moves up the bed, slow and smug.
“I don’t think you’re ready—”
“Just get on with it.” The words come out rough. Desperate.
“God, you’re needy.” He grins then jerks open the nightstand drawer. Tampons and loose change scatter as he grabs a condom.
The foil packet lands on my stomach. He tears it open and rolls it on in one smooth motion, eyes locked on mine the whole time. He doesn’t waste another second.
One thrust and he’s inside me. Thick, deep, stretching me open with a groan.
“This what you needed?” he says against my mouth.
I can’t speak. I can only hold on as he starts to move, hard, relentless. Every stroke tears sound from my throat. Every inch of him lights me up from the inside.
All I can do is take it. And fall apart.
I claw at his back as he drives into me again and again.
“You okay?” His voice is ragged.
I am. But he’s too much, in the best way. He’s stretching me to my limits, overwhelming me with sensation that’s just on the edge of pain but never crosses it. I groan out a yes, breathless.
He seems to sense it. Adjusts. Shifts his grip on my hips, angles deeper, pushes my legs up until I can’t even breathe.
Then he finds it.
His cock presses right against that spot. The one that steals my air, makes my vision white around the edges.
“Oh, God,” I gasp.
The rhythm turns punishing—each thrust slamming into that perfect spot like he owns it, like it was made for him. I cry out his name, raw and breathless.
He leans back, grabs my legs, and hooks them over his shoulders. Then he drives in deeper, harder.
Stars explode behind my eyes. Pleasure winds tight, then tighter. One more hit to that spot and I unravel—
I come hard, a full-body detonation.
But he doesn’t stop. He shifts again, changes the angle, and drags me straight back to the edge.
“Again,” he growls.
I break a second time, shattering around him.
His groan rips against my skin as he follows, hips stuttering, body shaking.
He thrusts once more, deep and desperate, then again—slower this time—like he’s trying to hold onto it, to stay inside the moment.
A final shudder rolls through him as he spills into me, his breath catching on a low, broken moan.
For a moment, we don’t move. Just stay like that, joined, shaking, barely breathing.
Then he collapses beside me, dragging me against his chest. Our skin sticks together, slick with sweat, hearts still pounding out of sync.
His hand slides into my hair, fingers gentle now, stroking slow. His touch is soft and reassuring.
“My girlfriend,” he says after a long beat, testing the words like they’re new and fragile.
I glance up. His eyes are soft now, so different from the heat they held before.
His lips brush my temple. “I like it.”
I tilt my head up, catch his mouth in a slow, lazy kiss.
“Don’t disappoint me,” I say against his lips.
He smiles into the kiss. “Wouldn’t dare.”