Legal Attraction

Then he lowered his head to her breasts and he replaced his fingers with his lips, closing them over one of those taut nipples. He gently tugged, teasing her.

Her hands slid into his hair, grasping his head. But she didn’t pull him away. She clutched him closer. Her fingers moved from his head to his neck, and she jerked his tie loose before tackling his buttons. Once she parted his shirt, she raked her nails down his chest.

His stomach clenched as desire punched him hard in the gut. He pulled back, but she followed him, pressing her breasts to his bare chest. She felt so good against him, so damn good in his arms.

He tightened his arms around her and just held her for a moment. But his body heated and the tension built. And just holding her would not be enough.

He had to have her—had to taste her—had to be inside her. He moved his hands to her waist and undid the button of her jeans. The zipper rasped as he lowered it. And his pulse pounded harder from the noise. She’d let him do that, just as she’d let him take off her sweater and bra. But would she let him push down the jeans?

She stepped back before he could reach for them. And his breath caught and trapped in his lungs. She was going to stop him.

He could understand why...

She blamed him for her coming out on the losing end of her divorce and in the media. But, as he’d pointed out, it hadn’t hurt her career any, not like she was trying to hurt his by turning in those forged memos to the bar association. Since she’d done that, he should be so damn mad that he shouldn’t be attracted to her at all.

And he was damn mad, more pissed off than he could remember being in a long time. But even then he couldn’t find her repulsive. She was too damn beautiful and sexy to resist. Not that he wanted to resist.

He wanted her too much for that and, more important, he wanted her to want him too much.

But he wouldn’t be able to do that if she kept stopping him.

She just stared at him now, her gaze on his bare chest like a caress. He could feel her touch, feel her skin even though a couple of feet separated them now.

Then she took another step back and turned away from him toward the control panel. He held his breath, waiting for her touch a button and get the elevator moving again.

But if she were going to do that, wouldn’t she first put her bra back on and her sweater? Instead of reaching for her discarded clothes, though, she pushed down her jeans and revealed a tiny bow on a G-string at the top of her perfect ass.

Ronan fisted his hands at his sides so he wouldn’t reach for her. Just because she’d undressed didn’t mean she intended to have sex with him. Maybe she only intended to torture him. Maybe—like turning those documents over to the bar—it was her way of getting revenge on him.

Seeing her like this—so bare and beautiful—and not being able to have her, might be worse than losing his law license...

* * *

What the hell was she doing? Muriel asked herself the question again, but like before, she couldn’t come up with an answer. Sure, she knew what she’d thought she was doing: carrying out the plan she’d concocted to bring Ronan Hall to his knees and get him to tell her the truth.

But nobody brought men like Ronan Hall to their knees. Not women. Not men...

They were too tough. Too powerful.

In their lives and most especially in the bedroom. She’d heard all the stories about him—not just how ruthless he was in court but how ruthless he was in relationships. She’d worked with some of his ex-girlfriends. He was always the one who’d ended things and always too soon for the women concerned.

No matter how ruthless he’d been, the women had wanted more. Some had even admitted begging.

So Muriel was the one who needed to worry about being brought to her knees. Again.

He’d already done it once—in the courtroom. Now she had to worry about him doing it here. Because when he touched her...

When he kissed her...

He made her want him more than she’d ever wanted anyone before. Just like all those other women had told her.

He wasn’t kissing or touching her now. She could put her clothes back on and restart the elevator. But when she bent over to pull up her jeans, a strange noise filled the car.

It was raw and guttural, a groan full of pain, as if the man who’d uttered it was being tortured. Ronan was the only other one inside the elevator, so she turned toward him.

He was on his knees now. But even on his knees, his head was above her waist. He was so damn tall and broad.

And so damn sexy.

His breath was hot as it whistled between his clenched teeth and brushed across her abdomen. Her stomach muscles tightened as tension wound inside her, streaking from her nipples down to her core.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured as his lips brushed across her skin.

She could have snorted and reminded him that that was not what he’d claimed in court. Then she had been anything and everything but perfect.

But she couldn’t say anything. She couldn’t even move. She was frozen as she waited for him to touch her again.

His lips skimmed softly across her stomach to her hip, then lower over the lace of her panties. And through the thin lace, she could feel his hot breath move over her mound. He touched her with his hands, too. They moved to her ass, cupping it in his palms. And somehow his fingers must have tugged so gently at the bow that she hadn’t felt it release. But her panties fell.

And nothing separated his mouth from the essence of her. He flicked his tongue back and forth across her clit as he lifted her, moving her legs over his shoulders. Then he feasted on her—sucking on her before sliding his tongue inside her.

And Muriel melted, heat and pleasure flooding her. He lapped at her—licking and sucking and driving her out of her mind. She whimpered, moaned and arched back. Without the wall of the elevator behind her, she might have fallen. The wood was cold and hard against her back. But she didn’t care.

She had the heat and strength of Ronan. She clutched at his head as he continued to move his mouth over her. His tongue flicked and teased. And he raised one of his hands to her breast, sliding his palm over it and the taut nipple.

She cried out as she came, the orgasm shuddering through her with such intensity that tears burned her eyes. And she understood why women begged him for more.

Despite that release, she wanted more.

He hadn’t pulled back. He continued to lap at her as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of her orgasm. But that wasn’t what she wanted now.

She wanted him. She wanted to feel him inside her.

She slid her legs off his shoulders and tried to stand. But her body was too limp from pleasure, her muscles too loose. And her legs folded until she was on her knees in front of him. She’d already opened his shirt, so she pushed that and his suitcoat from his shoulders. Then she reached for his belt.

But he caught her hand.

And she wondered now if he was going to stop her. She froze as she remembered all the times that had happened in her marriage. She wasn’t the sex addict that her ex and those witnesses had claimed she was. But she’d certainly needed it more than her husband had.

He’d had an excuse every time. He hadn’t felt well. Or he was tired.

But she’d always wondered if it was her fault. If she just wasn’t that desirable...

But Ronan’s dark eyes burned with desire for her. His thumb stroked over her wrist, over her leaping pulse. His voice was a rough rasp when he murmured, “If you touch me now, I’m going to come right away. And I want this to last.”

So did she.

But just his words—and that gruff, sexy way he’d uttered them—had her on the verge of coming again, especially when his gaze moved over her like a caress.