When Jensen kisses me, it’s like I’m swimming in pleasure. I’m just letting myself float, with my head laying back looking straight up at the shining sun with no thoughts except for summertime lemonade and suntan lotion…

And then he grabs my ass. And I jump. Not because I don’t like it. But because I like it a little too much. I want his hands there, and all over me, right here, right now, and I can’t do that.

“Jensen.”

I gently push him off me and compose myself. I look around the bar and see that a couple people had been looking at us but more out of curiosity than disgust.

Why did I bring him to a local lawyer hang-out?

It’s bad enough that I’m aiding and abetting him in breaking one of his conditions of release. As soon as he’s mentioned grabbing a drink I had thought “we can’t— you’re not allowed in establishments that serve liquor,” but for once in my life I told my “moral self” to shut up.

I’m not the one with conditions of release, I remind myself. I’m just hanging out with someone who happens to be breaking them, as apparently he breaks a lot of rules.

And I like that about him. It makes me feel more rebellious just to be near him. And by bringing him here, of all places, it’s as if I wanted to flaunt my new rebellion to the entire world. No one in here looks like him, dresses like him, talks like him, acts like him.

No one else in here would grab my ass and stick his tongue down my throat so skillfully. As if I was already his. As if it didn’t matter that he’s an outlaw ex-military type and I’m an up and coming successful lawyer type— or at least I was. What am I now? I don’t even know. Who do I want to be?

I have to admit, I’m much happier representing Jensen— and hanging out with Jensen— than I ever was while I was working at Holt and dating Charles. I think this is one of those times in life when it becomes clear that I was never doing what I really wanted to do, without ever realizing it.

I take a sip of my drink and then mentally chide myself. I’ve let the alcohol flow too freely, and I’ve probably said too much to Jensen about my recent past. I’ve definitely done too much with Jensen. But then again, he’s opened up to me too, and now I have some good information that’s helpful to his defense.

His hand begins wandering back down to my leg and I shake it off nervously. I need some cooling off time before I do something that I will really regret— in public, no less.

“Excuse me, I have to go to the restroom,” I tell him, trying my best to stand up straight and proper without looking tipsy.

“Hurry back,” he says, with one of his trademark handsome winks.

I blush as I head to the bathroom. I don’t really have to pee, so I take a small brush from my purse and try to calm my disheveled hair.

All I can think about is how Jensen pulled on it, and combed his fingers through it. I want him to do that to me in bed. I want him to run his hands all over my body.

I want to lose my virginity to him. I want him to give me my first ever real orgasm. Even better, I’m sure, than what I’ve been able to give myself with the magic bullet.

Stop it, I tell myself, as shivers run down my spine. I run a fresh coat of lip gloss over my lips and stare at my abnormally rouge complexion.

This isn’t like me at all. I don’t look like me. I don’t feel like me.

But then, I have to admit: I look better. I feel better. I like the new me. The Me With Jensen.

I wash my hands with cold water simply because they feel hot. Hot from Jensen’s touch. Hot from desire and attraction and excitement. All things that I’ve never really experienced with a guy before.

I finally leave the bathroom, determined to stop any and all hanky-panky with Jensen for the moment. At least until we leave this bar. No, at least until his case is over and he’s no longer a client.

At that time, I just might give in and let him take me. I want to live on the wild side for just a little bit, and it seems he’s been doing that his whole life. I want to try it out with him.

And then as I walk resolutely, yet a bit dizzily back to my table, I see something incredible and stop in my tracks.

It’s Charles. And Kristen Taggert, that tart from Coleman and Williams, the opposing law firm in the Marks Capital case. They’re standing at the bar and he’s ordering drinks. What are they doing here?

This is the local lawyer hangout, I tell myself, to try to calm myself down. Maybe they just got done with the trial and they’re trying to patch up any wounds, or they’re discussing settlement.

But then I notice that his arm is wrapped around her waist, right before he moves it to retrieve the drinks the bartender is handing him. He hands one to her and then they kiss, deeply and passionately, in a way that Charles had never, ever kissed me during our entire relationship.

And I make another bad decision to top off the series of bad decisions I’ve been making lately.

“Charles!” I screech, and then cover my hand with my mouth, not even recognizing the shrill sound that came out as my own voice.

The old me would have run away and hid. But the new me is two strong Manhattans in and realizes that all hope of decency is gone. I just want him to know that I know. I’m not the dummy he thinks I am.

“Riley,” he says, letting go of his death hold on Kristin and trying to act nonchalant. “What are you doing here?”

Because of course I no longer have a right to be here. I’m ostracized from normal lawyer society ever since your dad canned me.

“What are you doing here?” I demand.

“How are you, Riley?” He asks, looking at me strangely, as if he doesn’t really recognize me, or as if he’s afraid of me. “Kristin and I were just…”

“Kissing,” I finish for him, and his face registers a look of surprise.

Rarely have I called him out on anything. But that was the old Riley. The pre-firing and pre-dumping Riley. The pre-Jensen Riley.

“Kissing?” he asks, putting on his best court/ poker face and trying to look dumb. “Riley, I’m not sure what you thought you saw, but…”

“I know exactly what I saw, and don’t think I’m going to just forget about it easily, and go away and leave you alone like you want me to. Suddenly things make a lot more sense now,” I hiss, at both Charles and Kristin, who is looking at me with a mortified expression on her face.

“Riley, honey,” Charles says, approaching me and putting his arms up as if he wants to comfort me. But I put my own hand up to block him.

“Don’t honey me,” I say, nearly yelling now. “I know what type of person you are now. You’re the type of person who cheats on your girlfriend with opposing counsel, and then trades confidential information with her and tries to set up your girlfriend to take the fall, and has your dad fire her before you dump her and waltz off into the sunset with the enemy.”

I see it all too clearly now: his plan that is a little too brilliant for Charles to have come up with himself. I’m sure that Kristin had a part in masterminding it.

He had undoubtedly given his dad information he’d procured from Kristin so that his dad would win the case and thank him. If anything had gone south he would have blamed it all on me. And if I refused to use the information, I’d get fired, which is what happened.

Either way I’d get all the blame and none of the credit. And I’d be out of his hair, so that he would be free to live his lifetime of bliss with Kristin. She’d probably done the same thing at her firm. And whoever won would convince their firm to hire the other as the more worthy adversary— and then they could work together, because Charles couldn’t last two minutes without riding someone else’s coattails at work.

“Riley, calm down, you don’t know what you’re talking about, and I’d be awfully careful swinging accusations around…”

“I should be careful?” Now I explode, and I don’t even care who’s watching. “You’re the one who can face disciplinary board charges! You’re the one who would have had to trade information about our case and our client too in order to get such goodies from the other side, and how do you think it’s going to look when our client finds out just how loyal of an attorney you really are?”

I’m up in his face now, practically spitting on him, and he lunges towards me.

“You wouldn’t dare!”

“Watch me!”

I don’t back down, and I think this surprises Charles. He realizes how serious I am, and how I’m not going to just roll over and play nice like I always used to. He grabs me by my arms and shoves me down into the stool in front of the bar.

This scares me. He’s never done anything like this to me before. He has my full attention now.

“You listen here, Riley. You think you’re important, that you have some influence, but you don’t. Not anymore. You know who the big players are, and you’re not one of them.”

“Charles, please.”

He’s squeezing my arms, and it hurts. I try hard not to cry but I can feel the tears welling up in my eyes.

“You don’t matter. You were just a lowly associate and now you’re nothing. You’re finished at Holt. Even if my dad wanted to take you back, I’ll tell him not do it. And if you run your mouth about this you’ll be blackballed from every firm in town and you know it.”

“Just let me go.”

I try to stand up and walk away from him but he pushes me back down onto the chair. He’s raising a fist at me and I wouldn’t put it past him to hit me. I never thought he’d do something like that, but then again I never thought he’d do anything like this.

“Charles!” I cry out, feeling trapped and humiliated. But then I hear a loud popping sound, and the next thing I know he falls over onto the floor.

I gasp, along with everyone else, as I realize who hit him.

“Jensen! Thank you.”

But I don’t think it’s victory or acknowledgement staring back at me through Jensen’s attractive brown eyes. More like disappointment, or pity.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says, throwing money onto our table as we rush out of the bar.