Unravel Me

By: Tori St. Claire

“I’m an attorney.” Cassie flagged the bartender again.

“Really?” He paused a beat, looked at her as if he considered some deep revelation, then added, “Me, too.” His grin escaped once more. “But let’s keep that between us. Who do you work for?”

Cassie shook her head. “Let’s not go there, shall we?” Even as the cool words slipped free, she surprised herself by the answer. Lifting her eyebrows, she sucked up her courage and smiled over the rim of her wineglass. “That’s professional. This…” She took a long, slow sip, then finished, “Isn’t.”

As a slow burn infused her bloodstream, Cassie slid her gaze to her sexy companion. He regarded her noncommittally, but the flare in his vibrant blue eyes made her throat turn dry. The wry crook of one corner of his mouth left no doubt in her mind he’d let her glimpse that spark of desire intentionally. That he was completely aware of how he affected her.

“You know, I heard someone say once that lawyers make the best lovers.” He winked, and she had a moment’s hesitation. Was she really going to do this? She stared at his full lips for a beat and realized the truth. A nuclear war wouldn’t stop this from happening.

The discovery sent chills racing over her skin. She squirmed in her seat. At his husky chuckle, heat touched her cheeks.

His dimpled grin was nearly her undoing. Her heart tripped erratically. At once, the room was too crowded and much too hot. When she had to sit down with opposing counsel for the entire afternoon tomorrow, too sleepy to keep her eyes open, she was going to hate herself for following through on this. But that darned dimple sealed the deal—no way was she going home alone tonight.

A thrill raced down Cassie’s spine..

Yes. I’m doing this.

Brad shifted position in the chair he’d requisitioned when they found the table a half-hour or so ago. But it was useless—he was so aroused he couldn’t create enough room behind his fly to be remotely comfortable. The woman was fascinating. Their conversation illustrated she was clearly well-educated. Assertive. Yet there was a shyness about her that sucked him in each time it peeked through.

No. Not shyness, he countered as she lowered her lashes. Submissiveness. Like there was some part of her that naturally deferred to him…and he could tell she wasn’t quite sure she wanted it to.

He wasn’t quite sure he wanted it to either. That could be dangerous. The kind of dangerous that would make her unforgettable. And he had no intentions of getting sidelined by a woman he couldn’t tuck neatly away into the corner of his mind where pleasant, but altogether uninspiring, memories resided.

He picked up the bottle of wine and topped her glass off with the last of it. When it was empty, he fully intended to escalate this little tango to the next level. He leaned in close, tucked his fingers into her free hand. “You know, you haven’t told me your name yet.”

She shook her head, sending her long silken hair spilling over one shoulder. The curled ends cupped her left breast. Bare breast, he amended. She’d bent forward often enough he’d realized there wasn’t a trace of satin or lace beneath.

“I don’t intend to.” She pushed the plate aside casually. “You don’t need to know mine; I don’t need to know yours.”

Oh, holy hell. If she had any idea how incredibly hot that was, or just how it made his already at-attention cock harden further, she’d run before he could get his hands on her. No commitments, no promises he had no intention of keeping. Just raw, carnal pleasure. No prettiness about it.

Yeah. He was swimming in dangerous waters. He couldn’t remember ever being this turned on. But damn, it made the prospect of tangling the sheets with her that much more enticing.

A perfect arrangement. One his cock was more than eager to satisfy. He fought a grimace as he shifted his weight to his opposite hip. “I can play by those rules. Have any more I need to know about?”

“Nope,” she answered simply. Her grin appeared with her next blink, and she dropped her hand to his knee. Slender fingers traversed his inseam to the base of his thigh. Her voice lowered intimately. “But I have an offer to propose, counselor.”

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