CHAPTER NINE
Smith tossed the empty Chinese containers into Laurel’s trashcan she kept under the sink. It never ceased to amaze him how much food they could pack into one of those little containers. The place two blocks over had the most incredible spring rolls. Apparently, Laurel was a regular and craved the shrimp fried rice as opposed to the regular white that came with nearly every entrée.
Smith had originally come over to her apartment to ask if she’d mentioned anything to either detective regarding his new business venture, but things had quickly gone down another path the second she’d opened the door wearing short shorts and a nearly see-through t-shirt that left nothing to the imagination. Not that his imagination was very limited. He knew her body better than any woman he’d ever been with.
She had looked sexy as hell, instantly derailing the primary reason of his visit.
The frozen breastmilk in her freezer had put a speedbump in his plans to ice her toe before carrying her into the bedroom for mouth to mouth, should she have a need for it. The one thing he should be grateful for was that her necessity to change the subject had clarified where both of them stood in this relationship.
As for her coming to stand next to him when he was talking about his younger brother, well, that told him she was open to more than a quick fuck after a long workday.
“I mean, if someone we work with did kill Brad, who do you think could do something so inhumane as to slit Brad’s throat so gruesomely?” Laurel asked, putting the leftover wonton soup in the refrigerator. They’d spent most of the meal discussing this very topic, but he couldn’t prevent his gaze from dropping to the freezer drawer once again. “If I had to pick, I would say Steve. You know, I immediately feel guilty for even thinking that. And I would never, ever say anything to the police along those lines. I’m just glad we put to rest the fact that Cynthia could never hurt anyone, let alone brutally murder someone. Besides, she was at a business dinner until ten o’clock that night. She even joined the hangers-on for cocktails afterward.”
“Laurel, why is there frozen breastmilk in your freezer? I’m coming up empty trying to imagine why. Please tell me that you don’t use it for coffee creamer.”
“Oh, that.” Laurel brushed off the unusual item with a wave of her hand. She walked past him and picked up both of their wine glasses, which he’d topped off so that he could toss the bottle into the recycling bin next to the trash. “That’s for the twins. Don’t worry. They’re at their father’s house this weekend.”
There was rarely a time when Smith was taken by surprise. Those moments were even fewer where he couldn’t form a string of words to form a retort.
This was one of those times.
“I’m kidding, Harvard boy. You can breathe again.” Laurel flashed a smile over her shoulder. “One of my neighbors does have twins, but she doesn’t have enough room in her freezer to store a supply of additional bags. And seeing as Auntie Laurel babysits now and then, it seemed practical that I store the overflow allotment here.”
Smith remained where he was at the kitchen sink, letting her walk into the living room while he wrapped his mind around the image of her holding an infant.
Who was he kidding?
The vision itself was almost enough to satisfy what he needed to get over the shock value of her Machiavellian jest.
Her sense of humor was oddly twisted.
Laurel never mentioned children before, none of her friends that he knew of had children, and she radiated the fact that she was highly focused on her career. The partnership they were both previously competing for had been all she could focus on for the last three months. This was a side of her that he never knew existed, but a sense of fulfillment washed over him at the thought of what their future could hold with the two of them side by side with an estate in Sands Point.
The thing of it was that he’d never planned on taking her partnership from her in the first place. Regardless of how he tried to communicate that now, it came out sounding like sour grapes. There had been no doubt that had he dropped out early on in the running someone else would have entered the picture.
Nature abhors a vacuum.
Her chances might have been diminished, though.
He hadn’t been able do that to her.
Hell, Phil Colbert had chosen two technology stocks that had grown by twenty percent between the two of them in the last few months. Had he chosen to profess any of this aloud, she would have taken offense, and rightly so.
It wasn’t that he didn’t think she’d earned a spot at that table, but more often than not there were ethereal variables which came into play. Laurel deserved that partnership, she’d worked hard for that partnership, and now it was likely gone forever given what would most likely happen to the company—full divesture of funds to established firms and dissolution of the partnership.
It wasn’t like people lived forever in the financial world. Most investors had an opportunity to adjust to new partners or key players growing into their positions over time, maintaining continuity within an institution.
Brad had been the whole show with nobody in the wings.
“Are you joining me or what?” Laurel called out from the living room. “I can’t promise not to drink your wine if you dally.”
Smith smiled, liking this casual side of Laurel that she’d always shielded from him. He’d removed his jacket earlier, rolling up his sleeves so that he could eat without staining the cuffs. He’d loosened his tie as well, having no intention of leaving tonight. It was going to be interesting to see what her reaction would be to his proposal of spending the night at her place for once.
“Boys, girls, or one of each?” Smith pulled his tie from around his neck in one smooth stroke and promptly tossed it onto the coffee table, noticing that she was still holding his wineglass. She was curled up on the couch, her left toe free from her weight. It was still slightly pink, but she was no longer favoring it when she walked. “And how many months?”
“Why are you even remotely interested?” Laurel asked, skepticism written across her beautiful features.
Her hair was still down, cascading around her shoulders and catching the light in such a way that her highlights shimmered with a golden hue. She finally offered him his glass when he claimed the cushion next to her.
“What kind of question is that? Are you questing my intentions?”
“You’re…I don’t know. You just don’t strike me as the family type.”
“I’m a damn fine uncle to a niece and nephew,” Smith shared, reaching for her legs to draw them over his lap. He made sure to only massage her good foot. By the way she parted her lips and closed her eyes, he’d made the right choice. “I happen to love kids.”
“You keep doing that, and I’ll give you as many as you’d like,” Laurel muttered, clearly joking as she had been before. But she had no idea how appealing that thought was to him. He took a sip of the red merlot she’d had on hand to prevent himself from saying something that would give her hesitation. He even took his time savoring the earthy flavor of the grapes. “You have to admit that you being here at my place is off. It feels weird.”
“What’s so off about it?” Smith rested his left arm across the back of the couch, resting his wineglass on top of the cushion. She’d sunk into the decorative pillow behind her, her hair fanning itself around her like a halo. “Me rubbing your foot? I’ve done that and much more, little minx.”
Laurel’s light laugh echoed around the comfortable room. Her décor was done in earth tones, but she also had splashes of vibrant colors strategically placed around the room. It was different from his own apartment, which was very sterile in comparison. He hadn’t personally chosen any of the designs. He had a decorator apply the generic yet high-end bachelor package without depending on any particular school of design. Laurel’s touches said a hell of a lot more about her than his package plan said about him.
“Having a conversation other than work or…”
“Sex?” Smith flashed her a smile. “Sorry, great sex.”
“You don’t see any issues standing in the way of moving our relationship forward, do you?”
“And why would I?” Now this was a topic that he could appreciate. “I knew from the moment I walked into your office to introduce myself that there was something between us. It was only natural to see it through to its inevitable conclusion.”
“Sexual attraction doesn’t mean anything other than a couple might enjoy a good time in bed.” Laurel wasn’t quite as relaxed as her body language led him to believe. Her green eyes were watching him very closely, gauging his reaction to her probes. “What makes you think there’s more to this than that?”
“And what makes people consider that sex is just copulating?” Smith slowly drew a finger down the underside of her foot. Her toes curled instinctively, the red nails arching due to the stimulating sensation. “What makes you think that what we have is just sex without the obvious intimacy?”
“I honestly don’t know what kind of intimacy we have,” Laurel whispered, catching on rather quickly that he’d rather show her than tell her. She took another healthy sip of her wine. “We live completely separate lives. Much of which you’ve never questioned before, Smith. It’s rare that our paths cross in everyday life for anything other than great sex.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way. You just need to invest yourself.” Smith leaned forward and set his wineglass on the coffee table. He then unbuttoned her jeans, slowly sliding the zipper down its golden track. “Is there something stopping you from attending a charity ball with me? I’ve seen you at other social events. You have excellent taste in clothing and apparently have an insatiable shoe fetish.”
“There’s nothing like buying a brand-new pair of designer heels,” Laurel said somewhat breathlessly. She was holding her wineglass out away from herself so that she didn’t spill any as he slid the denim over her heart-shaped ass. “As a matter of fact, I recall you admiring those red Valentino Garavani heels I got for seventy percent off at Saks. It was a milestone victory of mine.”
“I like them very much.” Smith remembered the exact evening he’d had her keep them on, along with her black lace garter belt and matching seamed stockings. Of course, that was all she had left on while they’d had sex on his granite-topped kitchen island. This was the perfect time to let her know they were having dinner with his family. “You can wear them tomorrow evening when we have dinner with my parents.”
Smith apparently hadn’t thought through her extreme reaction to such a statement. After all, they’d just agreed to see this relationship past the point in which they merely used each other to scratch an itch. Did she truly believe that it wouldn’t eventually involve meeting his family?
Laurel jolted straight up from the couch, giving him time to reach for the wineglass before the red contents spilled all over her cream carpet. He relieved her of the delicate stemmed glassware. She was shaking her head vigorously in response to his invitation.
“Absolutely not.” Laurel began to shift her weight rapidly from side to side so that she could pull up her jeans. “I am not—”
“I didn’t realize that you had some type of grudge against my parents.”
“What?” Laurel managed to get the waist of her jeans back in place, but his theory prevented her from finishing the job. Lines of confusion appeared on her forehead as she began to protest. Good. That had been his intention all along. “I don’t—”
“It’s fine. Truly. I’ll inform them that you don’t want to meet them and—”
“You’re playing me, Smith,” Laurel said angrily, sweeping her hair to the side. He couldn’t help but smirk at her tell. “See. There. That smile. You can’t guilt me into having dinner with your mother and father.”
“Why not? It’s just a meal. Is there a reason I can’t take the woman I’m serious about to a family function? Is there a waiting period or some kind of prerequisite I’m unaware of?”
Smith leaned over her legs to set her wineglass next to his, doing his best not to show he’d gambled and underestimated her reaction. He’d made a left turn, when it would have been better to take a right. He’d allowed it to become too intimate too quickly. It was obvious she was still wary about where they were headed, so he rectified his error in judgement.
“Like I said, it’s okay. I’ll let them know you’d rather not attend dinner tomorrow night. It’s a shame, though. I have no doubt my father has garnered more inside information regarding the investigation into Brad’s murder.” Smith took her foot into both hands, using his fingers to dig into her arch to try and relax her against the stress building in her shoulders while she contemplated meeting his parents as someone special in his life. “I might not appreciate the way he does business outside of the courtroom, but he is effective at using our surname to his advantage.”
“I hate you right now.”
“You love me.” Smith continued to concentrate on the light massage he was giving her, understanding full well the implications of his reply. He let the weight of his words settle over her before he made light of the situation. “But it’s all fine. I’ll go myself, ward off the questions that I’m sure will be asked about you and your motives, and then play in the den with my niece and nephew to avoid the inevitable repercussions.”
“Hide in the den,” Laurel muttered with a shake of her head. She fell back against her pillow in defeat. “Only rich people say in the den. But fine. I’ll go. I’m not wearing those heels or the stockings, for that matter.”
“Why not?” Smith wiggled his eyebrows, showing her that he did have a lighter side, despite what she may think. “Oh, you don’t want to think about the great sex we had while we’re—”
Laurel cut off his words when she reared back up and straddled him. Her kiss prevented any more conversation about his family. It always astonished him how the air around them instantly electrified with a simple touch. She began unfastening his dress shirt and tugging the hem from his waistband.
“You talk too much,” Laurel whispered seductively, her soft lips trailing over his jawline and down his neck. He leaned forward enough to remove his dress shirt and toss it to the floor. “Let’s see what I can do about that.”
Smith wasn’t about to argue as she gradually removed herself from the couch, only to then carefully kneel on the carpet and position herself directly between his legs.
His cock hardened at the thought of what was to come.
“I want you naked when you suck me off,” Smith ordered with a heavy tone, unable to prevent his arousal from dripping off his words. He grabbed her wrist to stop her from reaching for his belt. “Get undressed, little minx.”
In no time, both of them were naked and back in position. The smooth slide of her hands traveling up his thighs and toward his rock hard cock had him inhaling sharply. She wrapped her fingers around his shaft, slowly stroking him while she appeared mesmerized by the drop of pre-cum he’d emitted from the tip.
“Laurel, you have five minutes before I turn you over the arm of this couch and fuck you until you’re screaming my name and begging for another just like the first.”
The slow spread of her smile let him know just how much she liked that vision. One of her favorite positions was being taken from behind, and he had to say that there was definitely appeal in that particular arrangement. He was able to sink deeper into her, connecting them in an entirely different way.
“Then I best get going on those five minutes,” Laurel said teasingly with another pump of her hand. She even drew her thumb over his tip, drawing out a low moan of satisfaction from his chest. “Three, two, one…”
Laurel’s warm lips closed over his cock, but the warmth was nothing compared to the heat of her tongue. She stroked across his opening before taking more of him in her mouth. She pulled back, using the palm of her hand to smear what wetness she’d left behind. Again, she sucked him back in, but this time to the back of her throat.
He wanted nothing more than to lean his head back against the cushion, but he wouldn’t miss the beautiful sight before him for all the money in the world.
Her chestnut locks had fallen off her shoulders, fanning out over his thighs. A flush had settled over her cheekbones while her lashes rested against her skin as she savored his taste. There was nothing quite as arousing than the image of a woman pleasuring a man.
Laurel’s tongue glided over the underside of his cock, but her hair had hidden her face when she’d tilted her head to the side. It gave him the perfect opportunity to tangle his fingers in her hair, pulling ever so slightly so that he could see her expression when he told her what he’d really like her to do with her free hand.
“Spread your knees, Laurel. Spread them so that you can stroke your clit. I want you ready for when I bend you over.”
Laurel’s green eyes darkened to almost black and her nostrils flared as she breathed in sharply. The stronger tug on his cock by the suction of her mouth told him she liked the idea, but it wasn’t until her eyes fluttered closed again at her own pleasure that he came very close to coming in her mouth.
“That’s right,” Smith murmured, doing his best to restrain himself. He’d promised her five minutes, and he never went back on his word. “Rub yourself even harder. Are you completely drenched?”
Another guttural groan vibrated his cock to the point where he involuntarily tightened his fingers in her hair. That only seemed to fuel her desire for more, because she tightened the fingers of her left hand at the bottom of his shaft. It both helped and hurt him in his attempt to prevent his release.
Smith had no choice but to release his hold on her hair, quickly reaching inside one of the back pockets of his slacks to withdraw a condom from his wallet. Laurel didn’t even seem to notice as she continued to suck him while pleasuring herself simultaneously.
“Don’t you come, little minx,” Smith warned, gritting his teeth against the inevitable orgasm. He refused to allow his body the pleasure until he was balls deep inside of her. He ripped open the foil with his teeth and removed the small disc. “Stop.”
Laurel tossed her hair back when she did as he directed, knowing full well that relief was minutes away.
“Slide your middle finger inside of yourself,” Smith muttered, never taking his eyes off her face as he rolled the latex over his cock. Even his own touch was almost too much, but he finally secured the condom at the base of his shaft. He knew the exact moment she entered herself, for her lips parted and her eyes glazed over in pleasure. “Now it’s my turn.”
Smith made quick the decision that the arm of the couch just wasn’t good enough. He had her positioned with her knees facing the back of the cushions, giving him just the right amount of leverage where he claimed her in one thrust.
Laurel cried out his name before resting her cheek against her inner arm. Smith continued to drive himself into her the way they both relished, not giving time for either one of them to catch their breaths. It wasn’t until he was on the verge of that impending release that he reached around, taking up where she’d left off.
She was so wet that he had no trouble gathering her juices and rubbing her clit until her fingers dug into the cushion.
“That’s right, little minx,” Smith whispered the encouragement into her ear. “Come for me.”
The tightness of his sac became even stronger as he exploded, his seed filling the condom until he had nothing more left to give. The contractions of her sheath were still pulsating as he slowly pulled out of her, drawing her down onto the couch with him so that he could hold her until they got their bearings.
“You never disappoint, Harvard boy,” Laurel murmured somewhat breathlessly, her eyes already closed as she nestled deeper into his chest. The rest of her words came out in a mumble, but he was smiling by the end of her tirade. “Fine. I’ll go with you to your family dinner, but I’m not wearing those damned shoes.”