My cab pulled up outside the Four Seasons at 8:35 the next night. I’d been successful in arguing against a continuance, and had spent all day in the courtroom weeding through dozens of jurors. Tomorrow would be the same. At the rate we were going, jury selection was going to take another week and a half. The prosecution was being ridiculously picky. We’d only seated two of our twelve jurors today.

I pushed all that from my mind as I stepped out of the cab and straightened my dress. The bright blue fabric swung around my thighs as I walked inside. Jameson was already seated at the bar. My gaze was instantly drawn to him. His white shirt unbuttoned at the neck, his gray suit jacket hanging open. My pulse quickened at the sight of him. I licked my lips and wound my way through the mostly empty tables and chairs toward him. Jameson smiled appreciatively when he saw me coming.

“You’re late,” he said, as I slid onto the barstool next to him.

“Traffic,” I said unapologetically and ordered a drink from the bartender. There hadn’t been any traffic. I’d been just a few minutes late on purpose. Annoyance flashed across his face, and I smiled. Making Jameson upset was quickly becoming my new favorite pastime. He looked so damn sexy when he was mad. His gaze traveled up and down my body, his eyes lingering on my tan legs.

“Like what you see?” I smirked when his eyes returned to my face.

“You already know the answer to that.” We sat in silence for a few moments, the air already thick with sexual tension. God, the things I wanted to do to this man. The things I wanted him to do to me.

“So, what brings you to New York, Jameson?” I said, taking a sip of the dirty martini the bartender had just delivered.

“Who said I'm new to New York?” he raising an eyebrow.

“Your apartment was practically empty, and your mailbox in the lobby didn't have your name on it,” I said. “And you said you have new bosses.”

“You looked at my mailbox?”

“I was curious.” I shrugged, unashamed of my blatant snooping. He laughed. It was a deep, sexy sound that sent shivers down my spine. I took a long pull of my drink, nearly draining it, my mouth suddenly dry, moisture gathering between my legs instead.

“How long have you lived in New York?” he asked in return, avoiding my original question.

“15 years.” This small talk was killing me. I didn't really care why he was in New York or how long he'd been here. I didn't want to get to know him. Knowing made things messy.

Jameson sipped his drink and watched me. Either not sensing my unease or enjoying it. I couldn't tell.

“You don’t like talking to me?” He smiled. Definitely enjoying it.

“Talking isn’t what either of us is here for, Jameson,” I said dryly. I raised my empty martini glass at the bartender, and he brought me another.

Jameson stood and pulled a hotel key out of the inside of his suit jacket.

“It’ll be more fun if you relax,” he whispered in my ear. “Finish your drink and meet me upstairs, room 915, when you’re done.” I opened my mouth to argue with him, but he walked away before I got a chance. I could see his shoulders shaking with laughter as he rounded the corner into the hotel lobby. Bastard. I finished my drink in ten minutes and made my way upstairs—the gin helping me relax and release some of the tension from the courtroom today. I was counting on Jameson erasing the rest of it.

Room 915 was at the end of the hallway, the door slightly ajar when I reached it. Jameson stood at the window looking out at the city below.

“I thought maybe you weren’t coming,” he said without turning around.

“Oh, I have every intention of coming.” I laughed. He spun around and looked at me, amusement on his face. “If everything goes as planned, more than once.”

“Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow at me. I sauntered over to him, my hips swaying with every step.

“Absolutely.” I stopped in front of him, and stared into his eyes, deep pools of blue that made me want to dive head first and get completely lost in their depths. Never breaking eye contact, I reached behind me and pulled the zipper of my dress before I pushed the fabric off my hips and to the floor.

Jameson’s eyes narrowed, and he swallowed hard as he took in the sight of my nearly naked body, my steel gray lace bra, and panties providing little coverage.

“You look like you’ve had a long day,” I said, my fingers undoing the buttons on his shirt and loosening his belt buckle.

“It was,” he said. “My...” His words were lost in a low hiss as I pushed my hand inside his briefs and wrapped it around his stiff cock. I pulled his briefs down as I sunk to my knees on the plush carpet.

“None of that matters now,” I said before I wrapped my lips around the tip of his dick and sucked, pulling him in my mouth.

“Fuck, Olivia,” he moaned, his hand running through my hair and gripping the back of my head. I opened my throat and took him as deep as I could. “Jesus, you give the best head,” he mumbled, running his hand through my hair again. I took him in one more time before he tugged on my hair and pulled me into a standing position.

Jameson grabbed me and turned me around, pressing my bare breasts into the cool glass window. “You have a thing with sex in front of windows, don’t you?”

“I’ve never met a woman who talks as much as you,” Jameson whispered in my ear, his hand running down the front of my stomach and into my panties.

I bit my lip and let out a low moan at his touch. He kissed my neck and ear, as he moved closer, pushing me against the glass, the heat of his body spreading over mine like a warm blanket. His fingers were magic, bringing me to the brink of orgasm faster than I thought was possible. My breathing quickened, and my moans became louder, as his fingers pushed me over the edge. My body clenched between the hard confines of the glass and Jameson’s body as pleasure ripped through me.

I went limp against Jameson as he stepped away from the window and picked me up easily, laying me down on the bed and stripping off my bra and panties.

“Not so much to say now, huh?” he asked as he put on a condom and crawled on top of me.

“I have plenty I could say.”

“Don’t,” he said, thrusting into me slowly, a moan falling from my lips. “Don’t ruin it with words.”

So I didn’t. For the next two hours, I let the sounds of our bodies coming together be the only noise that filled the room.

* * *

“Hi Kate.”

“Wait, who is this? My best friend abandoned me last weekend, and I haven’t heard from her since.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

“No, you’re not.” Kate always called me out on my bullshit.

“You’re right, I’m not.” I laughed. “Especially since I met someone.”

“Ooooh, do tell!”

“Holy shit, Kate, this guy…” I blew out a breath as I thought of Jameson. “Absolutely amazing.”

“Better or worse than Gabriel?” Gabriel was apparently the stick against which all future men would be measured.

“1,000 times better.”

“Come on! Is that even possible? I thought Gabriel was the best you’d ever had?”

“He was, until Jameson. He knows what he’s doing, he’s confident about it—”

“So he’s old?” she interrupted. Kate liked her men younger than her, no exceptions.

“He’s not old!”

“Over 40?” I thought about it. I honestly had no idea how old Jameson was, but there was no way he was less than 40.

“Yes, definitely.”

“Old!” Kate yelled. Anything over 30 was old to Kate, except for us of course.

“I wouldn’t give a shit if he was 80, Kate, because he does things to my body no one has ever done before.” A wave of lust rolled through me as I thought of how fast he’d made me come the night before. “And his body—mmmmmm hmmmm, I’ve only known him a few days, but I’d be willing to bet he is in his prime.”

“Why do you always get the good ones?” Kate whined. “It’s your boobs. Maybe I should get a boob job.”

“I’d like to think I have more to offer men than a great rack,” I replied dryly. “And how many times have we had this conversation? You would hate having big boobs. Besides, I would kill for your complexion. I’m 36 and still get acne.”

“Nobody’s looking at a tiny pimple on your face when you wear a dress like that red one you had on the other night.” I had curves, Kate had perfect skin.

We spent the next twenty minutes complaining about the other’s attributes we wanted and catching up on life. When I hung up, I had an email from Jameson waiting for me.

It looked like it was going to be another late night tomorrow.