making you the fall guy. I’m worried about you.”
No, I think, studying his face, he’s not worried about me, but he is worried. Whoever this client is that warned me off the Waters’ case, Logan wants to please them. Or rather desperately needs to please them. Suddenly, it hits me. I know what this is about. The trade Waters offered me, the attorney linked to a long list of suspected money laundering schemes. “You’re representing Jason Whitaker.”
He leans back instantly, his spine stiffening. “My clients have nothing to do with this.”
“That’s a yes. My God, you never cease to surprise me. You can’t do anything honestly. It always has to be sneaky.” I stand. “Go home, Logan. Call me tomorrow at work and we’ll discuss your client’s potential dilemma. Maybe we can make a deal if he can give me something to use against Waters.”
His eyes bore into me. “When did you become such a bitch?”
“I’m pretty sure it happened about the time you buried yourself in my secretary on top of my desk.”
“Step away from the case,” he bites out.
I read beneath the words and say, “Or what?”
“I can’t promise to protect you.”
“You never did. I protect myself. Go home, Logan.”
He scowls and seems like he might argue, but finally turns on his heel and marches toward the door. I follow, and when he exits, I shut the door, locking it and leaning on the hard surface. Adrian is there almost instantly—tall, dark, and alluringly dangerous. His hands settle on the door on either side of me and I’m suddenly aware of how on display my past defending people like Waters is right now. “How much did you hear?”
“All of it,” he says, but he doesn’t comment further or ask a question. He just watches me with his dark brown eyes, unmoving, more stone than man, and I want to reach inside him and dig for his thoughts.
“What are you thinking, Adrian?” I whisper.
His hands come down on my neck, over my hair and he drags me to him. “What do you think I’m thinking, Pri?” he asks, his breath a hot tease on my lips, a promise of a kiss that doesn’t come.
My fingers curl in his T-shirt. “I don’t think I want to know right now.”
“No?” he challenges, stroking my hair from my face and tilting my gaze to his. “Well, here’s a hint: none of it includes giving your panties back.”
Heat flushes my skin, and I push to my toes. “Then kiss me already,” I say, not ready to face the blade from my past that just keeps cutting.
But he doesn’t. He doesn’t kiss me. His mouth lingers above mine, the air pulsing around us, time ticking like an old man walking a mile up a hill, so incredibly slow. I’m confused. I’m uncomfortable. I’m desperate in ways I don’t remember ever being desperate.
“Or don’t,” I say. “And just let me go.”
Chapter Seventeen
ADRIAN
“You may wish I did,” I say softly, “I may, too.” And then I do as she’s bid. I kiss her, licking into her mouth, and damn, she is like tasting heaven while I’m being pulled into hell. Because while she clearly believes she’s sinned, she has no idea what that even means. She is good and I am not, but damn it, in that one stroke, I’m drowning in Pri, lost in her, molding her closer.
And she doesn’t need to be won over. She’s kissing the hell out of me, tugging at my shirt. I yank it over my head and toss it aside, reaching for her blouse. We’re all over each other, ripping at clothes. Touching. Tasting. I scoop her backside, squeezing that sweet little ass of hers, and drinking her in, savoring her as I do.
My lips part from hers and for a moment we just breathe together, and I swear right then, I feel something with Pri I have not ever felt in my life. I don’t even know what the hell she is doing to me. I know I should stop. I know she’ll hate me later for a hundred reasons, but I can’t seem to care right now. I shove the lace of her bra down and pinch her nipple, swallowing her gasp. I reach for my pocket and a condom. She’s working my zipper and then her hand closes around my cock, and I’m long gone, past the point of no return.
My pants stay put. So does her shirt. Everything that can be shoved aside is shoved