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DIRTY, RICH ONE NIGHT STAND.
That’s all it was supposed to be. Her. Him. Pleasure. And then a fast goodbye. He’s a stranger. And yet, he’s not. She knows him even though he doesn’t know her.
He’s the powerful attorney, now world-renowned after coming off the trial of a century which was publicized across the country. And I’m one of the reporters that sat in his courtroom.
I watched him, studied him, got to know him from afar which isn’t hard since I know his exact brand of confidence, arrogance, and wealth.
I know his type. I’ve dated his type. Which is why when I happen to come face to face with him, when sparks fly and heat simmers between us, I know what happens if I say “yes” to Reese Summer.
I know he’ll taste like sin and sex, even before he kisses me.
I know he’ll feel like pleasure and passion, even before he touches me.
I know he’ll demand more than I wants to give, and yet, because I dare to give myself to him, the result will be deliciously hot.
I know that I will not leave his bed without being utterly, completely sated.
And I know that I will leave the next morning anyway.
And so, I do.
And so, he follows.
And as the chase begins my question becomes: Is Reese Summer THE one or is he really just a dirty, arrogant lie that should have stayed a one night stand?
The door flies open and she points at her coffee-stained dress, while I try to focus on the stains, not the curve of her breasts and her discreet but lush cleavage. “You did this,” she accuses, pulling my gaze back to hers, while her verbal attack reminds me that she is hard to get in every way but a good fight.
“I didn’t do this,” I say. “I—”
“You were flirting with that woman and she was staring at you with her panties melting, and she just walked right into me. You did this. Move. I need to go home and change.”
She’s jealous, and I can’t help but be a little pleased about this, but I bite back a smile and a laugh sure to get me hurt. “Panties melting?” I rest my arm on the doorframe above her. “Sweetheart, since I met you, the only panties I want to melt for me are yours.”
“Really?” she demands. “Prove it.”
“Name the time and place.”
Her cheeks huff. “Forget I said that.”
“No. I won’t forget that you said that. Challenge once again accepted.”
“Move. I need to go home and change because you ruined my dress.”
I decide not to point out the inaccuracy of that statement yet again, and settle on a peace offering. “I’ll buy you a new dress.”
“Seriously? You’ll buy me a new dress? Is that supposed to melt my panties? You think you can buy your way past your bad behavior? First you cut in line and want to buy my coffee, and now this. You really are an arrogant ass, and I can’t be bought.”
I grab her and pull her to me, my hand at the side of her face, the other on her hip, when I want my hands everywhere, all over her. “I was not flirting with that woman, but you are another story.” I close my mouth down on hers, my tongue licking into her mouth. At first, she resists, but I deepen the kiss and she moans a sexy little moan, and then she’s melting into me, kissing me back. The taste of her is chocolate and coffee.
Temptation burns through me, thickening my cock.
But she suddenly pushes on my chest, tearing her mouth from mine. “Like I said,” she pants out, “I can’t be bought.”
“You think that kiss was bribery?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says. “I do.”
“Did it work?”
“A little, but once you let go of me, I’ll get over it.”
“If I give you the chance, but I won’t.”
“I told you—”
I kiss her again, this time a long, drugging, deep kiss before I say, “If I had time,” I say, finishing the sentence in my head with multiple choices: I would f*ck you, lick you, punish you with an orgasm you want but can’t have until you see me again. “I have to get to court.”
“If you had time,” she says, “I still wouldn’t let you do any of the things you’re thinking about doing.”
“Like I said: Challenge accepted.” I release her and start up the stairs, turning back to add, “You taste as good as I knew you would,”