Legal Seduction. Lisa Childs
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started laughing. Hers was no flirty, girlish giggle, either. Her laugh was deep and husky and had his pulse racing with attraction even as his pride bristled.
Focused on his face, her dark eyes widened. “You’re serious? You think I’m in love with you?”
“No,” he said, and his face heated a little with embarrassment. But it wouldn’t have been the first time someone had fallen for him without any encouragement from him. “I don’t.”
Not anymore. Not after her reaction.
Apparently, it was a good thing he’d never acted on the attraction he’d felt for her. He had no doubt she might have sued for harassment. But now that she’d already given her notice...
“Then why would you ask...?” She trailed off as her voice cracked with the threat of another giggle. It turned into a hiccup instead.
He caught the faint scent of wine on her breath and asked, “Have you been drinking?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” she countered. “It’s after office hours, and I’m not working. It doesn’t matter how much I’ve had to drink.”
“It does if it’s affecting your judgment,” he replied.
Just how affected was her judgment? He wasn’t thinking about just tonight or about just the drinking. Other things could affect judgment. Like greed. Or some other kind of coercion. Maybe she had a lover at an opposing law firm. Had something like that affected her judgment enough that she’d sold information from their case files?
Was that why she didn’t need money any longer?
He had to find out. Right now was probably his best chance—if she’d had enough alcohol to bring down her defenses. He had never seen Bette like this before. Or maybe he’d just never let himself see her like this—except for a stolen glance or two at her assets.
Simon hadn’t been able to stop himself from admiring the lush curves of her hips and ass in her pencil-slim skirts. And the little cardigans she wore did nothing to hide the fullness of her breasts. They strained the buttons at the front, showing little glimpses of the lace camisoles she wore beneath the sweaters.
“So you think the only reasons I could have for wanting to quit are because I’m drunk or in love with you?” she asked, a smile curving her full lips.
Since she didn’t usually look at him, he’d never noticed before how full her lips were—so full that she had a slight dimple in the middle of her bottom one.
He wanted to tug at that lip—with his lips and with his teeth. He wanted to nibble on it until she gasped for breath. Then he wanted those lips to touch him, to close around his cock as she sucked him deep into her throat.
His heart slammed against his ribs as desire sneaked up on him. This was Bette, his boring assistant. Except that she didn’t want to be his assistant anymore.
So what did that make her? The spy who’d betrayed their practice? Simon needed to know for certain if she was the office mole. But how the hell was he going to get her to talk?
She wouldn’t even give him the reason she was resigning. Why didn’t she want him to know? What was she hiding?
In order to get her talking, he needed to talk first. The best way for a con to gain the confidence of his mark was to share a confidence of his own.
“I’ve always had a problem keeping assistants,” he admitted to her. It wasn’t exactly a deep, dark confession, but it was the truth. “You’ve lasted much longer than anyone else has.” About a year and a half longer than her longest-working predecessor.
“I know people who would love to work for you.”
He sighed. “For the wrong reasons. Professionally, they want to get ahead.” They wanted to use the position as his assistant to launch their own legal careers.
Or they wanted to give him head. He wouldn’t mind if Bette had wanted to do that, but that obviously wasn’t why she’d taken the position as his assistant. She had never once showed any interest in him. Until now. “Or, personally, they want me.”
Her eyes widened again, and so did her pupils, dilating as she stared up at him through the lenses of her black-framed glasses. The glasses were too big for her delicately featured face, which was probably why they kept sliding down her small nose.
“I—I don’t want you...” she murmured, but there was no amusement in her voice now. Not even a hint of laughter. But her voice had grown more husky, and her pulse quivered visibly, erratically, in her long, slender neck.
He leaned even closer, so his lips just brushed over hers as he whispered, “Liar...”
She gasped, which moved her lips against his. He took advantage of her open mouth and deepened the kiss. First, he nibbled on her lips, like he’d wanted. Then he slid his tongue between them, into the sweet heat of her mouth. Would her body feel the same?
Hot and wet? He wanted to find out.
He clutched the back of her head in one hand, his fingers closing over that knot of soft, thick hair. It tickled his palm, making his skin tingle. The sensation surprised him. This was Bette, his assistant. She wasn’t supposed to make his skin tingle or his cock swell and throb behind the fly of his dress pants.
But she was...
And it was...
His body pulsed and ached. He wanted her aching for him, too. So he moved his other hand, the one not in her hair. He slid it over the curve of her hip down her thigh to the hem of her skirt. He wanted to lift it, wanted to skim his fingers up the inside of her thigh to the heat of her core. But how drunk was she?
He didn’t want to take advantage if she’d had too much to drink. And he suspected that she had because she was kissing him back, her tongue chasing his into his mouth. He tasted the wine on her tongue, crisp and slightly sweet. He wasn’t surprised that she would drink a sweet and fruity white. She wasn’t sophisticated like the women he usually dated.
Not that he wanted to date her. All he wanted was the truth. Why was she leaving? And was she the one who’d sold their secrets to opposing counsel?
At least that was all his mind wanted. His body was making demands of its own. And he found himself giving in to temptation. He moved his hand beneath her skirt, stroking his fingertips up the inside of her thigh.
She wore stockings, but they stopped halfway between her knees and her core. His finger touched lace and silk. She was wearing a garter?
He never would have thought Bette was the type to wear sexy underwear, let alone lingerie. His breath caught as he touched bare skin, which was even silkier than the stockings and the garter.
But the stockings and garter excited the hell out of him, too. Was she hiding something else—something super sexy—beneath that cardigan?
He moved his hand from her hair down the nape of her slender neck, then around her throat. Her pulse beat madly beneath his fingertip. She was as excited as he was.
He traced his finger lower, over her collarbone to the first button of that sweater. He flicked it open and then moved down to the next and the next, revealing the deep valley of her cleavage. She wasn’t wearing a camisole, like he’d thought. She wore a red lace bustier adorned with tiny bows.
A garter and bustier?
His breath escaped in a ragged groan. Who knew Bette Monroe was so damn sexy and sensual? He’d had no idea.
Did someone else? Had she worn this lingerie because she was meeting someone? At the moment he didn’t care. He didn’t care about anything but the desire burning him up. His cock pulsed with excitement and the need for release. A release only Bette could give him...
She gasped and trembled against him. Then she tensed. And her hands pressed against his chest, pushing him back.
“I—I...”