The Lawyer by Charlotte E Hart
Chapter Twelve
WILLOW
The heat of his palm sears into the skin at the base of my back, radiating through my body. The look he casts me reminds me of the look on his face from Thursday night—desire sparking in his eyes. But this is better. Touch is better. And now a part of me inwardly curses that what I was freely offered that night, I turned down.
He takes me in hold and begins to lead me around the room. I’ve danced with several other men already tonight, but I can’t seem to stop the smile that’s overtaken my lips. Being in Landon’s arms is … I catch my breath as he takes another turn around the room.
This is real, and while being with him, or rather performing for him, as Juniper is sexy and fills a darker fantasy, this is something concrete. No secrets between us. At least when it comes to who I am in this moment.
My imagination runs away with me as his grip shifts on my back, slightly lower, and he pulls me a fraction closer. The music fades into the background, and the opulence of the night blurs in my vision.
All I can focus on is Landon. I watch his eyes as we move. The light blue looks so much darker up close. And even more so with the intensity between us now. It would be easy, wouldn’t it? To entice him to my room, lead him upstairs, show him who I am and have him whisper those desperate and needy words to me. We’d relish in an evening that’s been on repeat in my mind. But would everything end there? The arrangement with Juniper, my job as his PA, and possibly any future position at Broderick Media? That's a huge gamble to make on a guy who holds all the power over me. It's not my position of choice, but I have no leverage.
No. Dancing is where this will stop.
At least for me.
As I make the decision, I feel the euphoria from a few moments ago slip away. My fingers grip onto Landon’s shoulder for a moment longer, and then I lean into his ear. “Excuse me.”
I dip my head and navigate through the guests still dancing and enjoying the party. As soon as our connection is lost, the rest of the room crashes back around my senses and forces me to retreat to get some air.
Luckily, I’ve been around these rooms a dozen times today, so I steer myself to a quiet bar that exits onto a patio section at the back of the house. I snatch a glass of champagne as I pass and break free into the night.
It’s quieter here. Darker, with only a slice of light illuminating my surroundings. I take a few steps forward, seeking the darkness, and perch on the stone wall. Staircases lead off into the grounds from both flanks, and I’m tempted to slink into the shadows and call it a night. It would certainly be safer.
“What happened?” Landon steps from the warm glow of light. He’s followed me, and my heart makes a horrid thrumming in my chest in response.
“Oh, nothing. Shoes.” I slip my heels off and brace my feet on the cold stone.
Landon puts his hand out for me, and I take it, cautiously rising to my now not-so-tall height. His eyes track my every movement before he takes the champagne from my hand and drinks down a sip himself.
From this position, looking up at him, he’s more intimidating—more desirable, if that’s even possible—and I quickly break our contact and sit back down on the wall. Feeling small or vulnerable isn’t something I’m familiar with. I’m not that woman, and while it has an edge of appeal, I recognise the warnings—I could get hurt in this situation.
“I can’t believe this is your place.” I change the subject, desperate for a breather.
“It’s hardly the penthouse. It’s an ancient relic in some ways. Touted out for grand occasions," he says, standing beside me. "It’s not what I want in the slightest.”
“Do you have other siblings here?” I keep up with the questions and hope I can recapture the professional balance.
“Yes. Neve is … somewhere. My youngest sister is in Paris.”
“Wow, that explains some of it.”
He takes a seat on the wall beside me. “Of what?” he says curtly.
“Why you’re the way you are. Three sisters.” My smile is back, and I glance to my side to watch him, already seeing the traits that I was referring to in his drawn down brow.
“And how am I?” The question seems so personal. Private.
I think back to all the dances, moves or costumes I've worn for him. Foreplay comes in a variety of forms. Listening to his voice when he speaks directly to me seems to be one form that connects right to my gut, making my insides twist deliciously.
“Bossy. Demanding. Controlling.” Looking up through my lashes, I emphasise every adjective. He's all of those things, and yet I can't help finding creative visions on how best he could demonstrate those traits.
We stay, almost lost in a moment that stretches past the bundle of seconds it makes up until he snaps us back to the now by looking away. “Do you have any siblings?”
I clear my throat. “Yes. A brother. Ash. He’s a handful.” I lean back and look away, too, both of us gazing into the gloom. “He’s six years younger than me but acts like a child. I’m forever picking up after him.”
“He lives with you.” Landon has a way of making statements rather than asking questions.
“Yep. Why move out when it’s his home, too? Mum and Dad died when we were younger. It’s his house as much as mine. Although, he treats it as a hotel.”
“I don’t think you ever stop worrying about your siblings,” he says, sighing. His voice is filled with understanding, and I wonder if he feels the same way, worrying about his sisters as I do towards Ash. However, his parents are still very much around. It must be different, growing up in a family of money.
“I try not to worry and tell myself that he’s a grown man. He’s not my responsibility, at least not anymore. But it doesn’t work.” I pause, thinking about how different our lives might have been if Mum and Dad were still around. “But he doesn’t have anyone else. Who would look out for him if I don’t?” I turn and look directly at him as if he can provide me with the answers.
God, this conversation is far too serious.
“Wow. That put a damper on the mood. Drinks?” I ask as I go to stand. He steadies me as I do. It’s stupid. I’m not even in heels.
“I doubt we need more alcohol.” He puts his hands in his pockets and looks me over. “Follow me,” he says, heading for a staircase to the right.
Swiping my heels as I go, I trail after him into the grounds. “Landon, where are we going?” The cold stone and pebbles are harsh on my feet, and I force him to slow so I can put my heels back on.
“I'm showing you more of Tallington Hall. You said you liked the country.”
He holds his hand out, and that small offer is enough to keep my heart racing and my arm reaching out for him.
A few more steps and he turns, leading us in parallel with the main house, before weaving down a path that takes us through a section of gardens.
“Dark and secluded, Landon. People may talk,” I jest.
He keeps going, twisting around the natural flow of the hedging and trees until we eventually arrive at a crumbling arbour. “Do I look like a man who cares what people say?”
Vines and plants grow up the sides, shrouding it in black shadow, but I can still make out the stone pillars and arch.
My hands run across the old, flaking surface, body turning to look at him. “Oh, come on. I saw the way your father looked at me. He’d certainly not approve.”
His expression clouds and it makes it hard for me to see what he’s thinking, but we both know that's the truth. I take a step away, mindful that getting too close now will both spoil the spell of a wonderful night and cause problems.
“I choose what I want and when I want it.” His words aren’t strictly true, but only Juniper would know that. My back hits the stone structure, stopping my retreat. “At the moment, I think I want you.”
Before I get a chance to gather my thoughts, he steps against me, pushing me hard against the vines and stone. His mouth devours mine as if starved of any affection—like a need drives his actions. My blood ignites with the raw passion I feel, and my hands rush to cover his body. I feel like I'm drowning in thoughts of him and what we did at his penthouse, of how the scrape of his chin rubs against mine, the sheer presence of him blocking out all rational thought.
His fingers dig into my shoulders to hold me in place as he pulls away. Only the faintest glint of light reflects in his eyes, and I can’t read them. Anxiety creeps around me, sending a shudder through my body because whenever I’ve performed, there have been rules and lines. This—between us now—has no boundaries, and it's terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
His hands slide down the lace covering my arms and then move to my hips, gathering the dress's material at my sides.
“Your dress is obscene,” he criticises.
The high slit at the middle now ends at my panties, giving him clear access, and without skipping a beat, his hand slides to the top of my thighs, splitting my legs apart.
“Oh, god,” I moan, but it’s a plea to stop. “Please don’t touch me.”
His fingers remain gripped around my thigh, even more pressure applied. “Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t have you. You’ve done nothing but tease me all night.”
It’s true. I’ve led him on, and now I’m on the brink of either getting everything I want or shattering my world completely. But that’s not the reason at the front of my mind. “If you touch me … you’ll know what you do to me,” I confess.
It’s not a lie. It’s embarrassing how hot and worked up my body is, and I wish I could be indifferent to him—unaffected. I'm not, but even though I'm confident that this could be the best sex I’ve ever had, I’m also sure that I don’t fit into his world. Neither side of me does.
He holds my gaze while his fingers release their pressure on one of my legs, but only to slip under my lace panties. I roll my lips together, refusing to let the little moan of pleasure pass them. His touch is sure and confident and begs my body to submit to him. Any restraint I had melts when his fingers push up inside of me slowly. I grab his shoulder for support and gasp, watching as his eyes watch mine.
“You don't want this?"
“Please …” I don’t know what I’m begging for anymore.
He pulls his fingers free and kneels down, pushing aside my panties and holding me in place. I barely register what's happening until hard kisses rain down on my skin to the side of my underwear. I move, turn slightly, but he's licking through my folds before I can truly escape.
“Landon, no … please.” My words don’t match my action as I hitch the fabric higher and slide my leg over his shoulder. His arm slides up to my hip to keep me stable, the other hand harsh on my thigh, as he licks and sucks and bites.
My body bursts to life and tingling nerves dance through my limbs, building and building with every stroke from his tongue. He holds my legs further apart, desperate to get to the centre of me.Firm, demanding strokes of his tongue lave through me, and my low hums fill the air that’s grown hot and clammy around us.
I fist his hair in one hand and plant my other over my mouth as my orgasm rips through my body. He carries on regardless as if he won't back down until he's had his fill. My leg shakes and gives out as my body shudders and crashes down from the high, and the only thing holding me up is his strength.
Our breaths fill the air as we recover from our tryst, and the weight of our actions makes it harder for me to catch my breath. It's so still out here. So quiet. Just me and him. I could almost imagine something else than the reality we're in, but as my leg slips from his shoulder and I force my feet to hold my weight, the truth creeps in.
His body rises slowly. No words to say, apparently, and he doesn’t look me in the eye either. Instead, he stares at my legs and wipes his mouth with a handkerchief, then gazes at the shoes, and then he turns and retreats into the darkness before I build the courage to talk.
I let him go.
My head spins from the ramifications that now stand as giant statues in front of me. And what for? An orgasm?
I wanted this to happen, and I even wanted this to happen to Juniper, but now it has my mind playing tricks on me. I have to work with this man. I have a job to do, and despite loving my evening moonlighting, it’s the day job that offers me security and stability. It's the best of both worlds, or it was, and I’ve just set a bomb to blow up both.
Fretting over what to do or what not to do, I leave the party and stalk back through the darkness until I see a familiar part of Tallington Hall. Without being seen, I escape up to the second floor and then the staircase that leads to the guest bedrooms.
On finally reaching my suite, I close my eyes and pray that Landon isn’t staying here as well as I turn the lock on my door. If he were to arrive, I know saying no to that man would be a stretch of my will power at the best of times, regardless of what my head is saying.
Sleep isn’t easily won, and I lay awake, staring at the ceiling through the thin material covering the four-poster bed. My mind pictures a young boy roaming the halls and grounds of the mansion. He's lonely, frowning too. He's also swimming naked in the lake.