The sexual innuendo from Jameson was almost constant when we were alone, which was a lot. I ignored most of it, taking a lot of cold showers and putting my vibrator to good use at night. I’d even blatantly refused his advances one late night in the office. I’d made that mistake once already—it wasn’t going to happen again.

But now, my sexual desire was getting out of control. I was either going to have to give in to Jameson or go find someone else before the trial started next week, otherwise I wasn’t going to be able to think straight, and I needed to be at my best.

We were in the conference room, again. The rest of the office was dark and quiet, everyone else had gone home hours ago. I was trying to recreate the crime scene for Jameson, but he kept looking at me like I was a piece of meat, and at any moment he was going to devour me. I let out a sigh and continued drawing on the whiteboard.

“This is where the body was found,” I said, pointing to the red ‘X’ I’d just drawn on the board.

“Let’s go get some dinner,” Jameson interrupted.

“We still have a lot to cover in only four days, and half of tomorrow will be shot driving out to the prison so you can meet Josh,” I said.

“We’ve been working 14 hours a day for a week straight … I think we deserve the night off.”

“I don’t think we have enough time,” I said. We had plenty of time, but that wasn’t the point. I needed to keep Jameson in the office where I could keep things professional. Over dinner or drinks, I might not be able to control myself any longer.

“I don’t have to know every tiny detail of the case. We’re partners, meaning you’ll be in the courtroom, too, and you know all this stuff by heart. Besides, it’ll be good for our working relationship if we get to know each other a little better.”

“I think our working relationship would be better if we knew a little bit less about each other,” I snorted. Jameson stood and walked over to the whiteboard. He took the marker out of my hand, put the cap back on, then leaned over and placed his hand on the board above my head.

“What are you so afraid of, Olivia?” he whispered in my ear, his body close to mine. I swallowed hard and tried to keep my breathing even. “I can seduce you just as well here as I can anywhere else.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be seduced,” I said. Jameson ran a hand over my breast, the hard pucker of my nipple scraping against the palm of his hand through my shirt and thin bra. Jameson laughed.

“You can pretend you don’t want me, Olivia, but your body gives you away every time.” He stood up straight and walked back to the table, the sudden movement leaving my body cold and craving his warmth.

“I’m going to get dinner somewhere that doesn’t deliver.” He took his suit jacket off the chair and put it on. “Are you going to join me?”

“Yeah, I guess,” I shrugged. What was the point in refusing? I clearly wasn’t fooling Jameson, and I was hungry.

An hour later we were seated at an Italian restaurant on the Upper East Side, Jameson sipping a beer, while I was enjoying a glass of Pinot Grigio.

“So where did your Southern accent come from?” Jameson asked, breaking the silence. “And don’t pretend it’s not there. You do a really good job hiding it most of the time, but it still comes through sometimes.”

“I grew up in southern Kentucky, but spent most of my summers at my Grandma’s in Georgia, which only made it worse,” I said. It was a complete lie, but one I’d told so many times it came out naturally now.

“Why do you hide it?”

“It’s faded a lot over the years, but I learned very quickly in law school that people in New York don’t take you seriously if you say y'all and drink sweet tea.”

“I think it’s sexy,” he purred.

“What about you?” I said, ignoring his comment and steering the conversation away from my past. “Did you grow up in California?”

“No, I was born in Arizona, but after my parents were killed in a car crash when I was twelve, I lived with my aunt on Chicago’s South Side.”

“That couldn’t have been easy.”

“We lived in a decent neighborhood, but I saw so much crime.” He stared out the window as he talked, like he could see his childhood replaying on the glass. “And not just that, a lot of innocent people charged with and put away for crimes they didn’t commit. Not all the shit you see on the news about police corruption is true, but there is more of it that happens than anybody is willing to admit, and it runs through the entire justice system. There are bad guys and good guys in every part of it.” He paused and took a sip of his beer. “Growing up around that is actually what made me want to be a lawyer, especially a defense attorney. Those innocent people needed someone to defend them.”

“I’m sure those people can afford your eight-hundred-dollar-an-hour price tag,” I snorted.

“I actually practiced in Chicago for the first five years of my career, a good chunk of my time on pro bono cases,” he said, and I opened my mouth to apologize. “But you’re right … as soon as a high-paying job with high-profile cases came calling, I was out of there.”

We sat in silence for a few minutes, the weight and truth of his words hanging between us.

“So why did Southern Belle Olivia Roberts want to become a high-powered New York lawyer?” Jameson finally asked. I took a long sip of wine and stalled. Jameson’s story hit closer to home than I would ever admit. I’d buried the real reason deep in my past, and I wasn’t bringing it up now—not twenty years later, and not to Jameson.

Lucky for me, our food came right then and we both dug in. The next time I spoke, I redirected the conversation back to work and our visit with Josh tomorrow. Jameson eyed me curiously, and I know my shift in the conversation didn’t go unnoticed, but he didn’t push the issue, giving me time to prepare for the next time he asked me.

Three glasses of wine later, I was full and content and a little buzzed. The conversation had flowed naturally from the Delaney case to our time in law school, to various case highlights over the years. And by the end of dinner, I felt the hatred I had been forcing myself to feel for Jameson since last week dissipate. Maybe working with him wouldn’t be so bad after all. I looked up and caught him staring at me, the same hungry look in his eyes from back at the office.

“You have to stop looking at me like that,” I said.

“Like what?” Jameson said, the look in his eye never changing.

“Like you want to rip off my clothes and take me right here.”

“That’s exactly what I want,” he said, a smile crossing his face when my cheeks flushed. “But I do have a little more restraint than that.”

“What about the other night in my office? You didn’t seem to show any restraint then?”

“Some days I have more self-control than others,” he said, like that explained everything. He stood and pulled his suit jacket back on. I rose and led the way from our small table to the front door.

We were only a few hundred feet from the restaurant when Jameson grabbed my hand and pulled me into an alleyway. He pushed me against the brick wall of the building and kissed me. There was nothing restrained about it. His kiss was demanding and rough, taking what he wanted, not bothering to ask for permission. When he pulled away, I was breathless. Before I had time to catch my breath, he tugged on my hand again and pulled me back out onto the sidewalk.

“Where are we going?” I asked, struggling to keep up with his fast pace in my heels. He hadn’t released my hand and was still pulling me along.

“My apartment … I need to fuck you. Now.” I stopped in my tracks, my hand yanking out of his grasp.

“No, we’re not.” I crossed my arms over my chest. As much as I wanted Jameson, and God, did I want him right now, having a working relationship with this man was only going to get more complicated if we kept sleeping together.

“Olivia,” Jameson growled and took the few steps back to where I was still standing. “My self-control is running out.”

“That’s not my problem,” I said, taking another step back from him. I was going to have to find a new man … that was the only way any of this would work.

“I can’t focus on anything. Not when every time I look up, your delicious ass in your tight little skirts is there. Not when you lean over the table and I get an unobstructed view of your tits. Not when every six seconds I’m thinking about bending you over the conference room table and fucking you in that glass room for everyone to see.”

I gasped, his words so raw and full of need.

“We both need our heads in the game in the next few days, and that’s not going to happen if the sexual tension gets any thicker,” he continued.

I opened my mouth to argue, then shut it. His argument was solid.

“Don’t try and tell me you don’t feel it too. I see the way you look at me when you think I’m not looking. The way you lick your lips like I’m your favorite dessert.” I stood there in silence, unable to form a counter argument because I felt it, too. I wanted it, too.

“But you have to say yes,” he said. “I’m not going to drag you to my apartment against your will.”

“What about the trial?” I said finally, throwing out the first argument I could think of.

“What about it? Our work and our sex have nothing to do with each other. I can keep the two separate, can you?”

“Of course I can,” I scoffed. I didn’t miss the challenge in his voice, and I never backed down from a challenge, especially not one from the sinfully sexy Jameson Beck.

“Prove it, Ms. Roberts.” Jameson took another step toward me, until his body was just inches from mine.

“I don’t think you can handle me, Mr. Beck,” I smirked.

“Are you sure it isn’t the other way around?”

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.”

“That’s not a yes,” he said, his words a soft tickle against my lips.

“Yes, Mr. Beck,” I drawled, letting my best Southern accent come through.

“God, you make me crazy, woman.”

“See, I knew you couldn’t handle me.”

“That’s enough talking,” he said. “Let’s go.” Jameson grabbed my hand again and pulled me down the sidewalk in the direction of his apartment.

“So impatient,” I laughed. Jameson stopped walking, turned around, and kissed me again. The same rough demanding kiss from the alleyway.

“Would you rather I fuck you right here on the sidewalk?” he whispered when he pulled his lips off mine.

“The conference room table, the sidewalk,” I said. “I didn’t know you were so voyeuristic.”

“My apartment is only two blocks from here. If you shut up and walk, we can be there in five minutes and do it in private.” As much as I was fighting him, I was more than ready, my panties already damp from his kisses, my body aching for his touch.

“Okay, let’s go,” I finally gave in.

“Thank you, Jesus,” Jameson whispered as he turned and once again headed toward his apartment. I walked beside him, my heels clicking on the sidewalk as we moved in silence. Jameson ignored the doorman, who tried to engage in small talk, and headed straight for the elevators.

When the doors slid closed behind us, Jameson’s mouth was on me again. He pushed me up against the elevator wall, his hard body pressed into mine as he kissed me. His hands slid down the front of my shirt, the top button straining against the force of his hand before popping off, giving him better access. His fingers skimmed over my nipple, and I moaned, his touch sending a shot of electricity straight to my pussy.

Jameson growled and pulled himself off me when the doors slid open on the 15th floor. He grabbed my hand again and yanked me toward his apartment. Any self-control he had before was lost to the fire that burned between us.

Once inside his huge apartment, Jameson’s urgency seemed to disappear. He kissed me against the door, slower this time, like he was trying to memorize my mouth with his. His fingers took their time unbuttoning my blouse, his thumbs rubbing slow circles over my nipples before he discarded my bra, taking a leisurely detour over my ass as he unzipped my skirt and slid it down. He kissed my neck and nibbled my ear, his hot breath and tongue teasing the sensitive skin there.

When his mouth found mine again, the rough and impatient Jameson was back. He grabbed my ass and lifted me, our kiss never breaking as he carried me into the kitchen and set me down on the marble island. I unbuttoned his shirt and pushed the expensive fabric off his shoulders, running my hands over his toned biceps as I did.

Jameson laid me back on the island, the marble cool against my flushed skin, and peeled off my panties. I watched him as he undid his belt, let his pants fall to the floor, and rolled on a condom. His blue eyes grew dark with lust as he pushed my knees apart and thrust into me, groaning loudly.

“Fuck, Olivia, this is all I have been thinking about,” he said through gritted teeth. “Every thought I have revolves around your delicious pussy and when I can bury myself inside you again … and it’s been too damn long.” His fingers dug into my thighs as he moved in and out of me. He leaned over and pulled one of my nipples into his mouth, my back arching off the counter at the delicious contact.

“Oh God, yes,” I breathed. He teased one nipple, then the other, then kissed me on the mouth. He pulled away, his eyes raking over my naked body.

“Jesus, you look so fucking perfect right now.” He gripped my hips and drove in and out of me. It was rough and demanding and so hot. I ran my hands up my stomach and over my breasts, squeezing them. I tugged gently on my nipples and rolled them between my fingertips. Jameson watched my every move, his pace never slowing. I pushed one breast up, bent my head down, and swiped my tongue across my nipple. Jameson growled, and I smiled.

“You like that, Jameson?” He didn’t respond, but groaned when I did it again. The extra sensation sent a wave of pleasure between my legs, and I felt my orgasm start to build. Jameson fucked me harder, as I continued to tease my own nipple with my tongue. When he reached between our bodies and ran his thumb over my clit, I lost it.

My body clenched against the hard marble as I came, waves of pleasure spreading from between my legs and throughout my entire body.

“Holy fuck, Olivia,” Jameson grunted moments later when he followed me over the edge.

I laid there on the counter catching my breath. Jameson left the room and returned wearing a pair of Nike track pants and carrying a robe, which he handed it to me as I slid off the island.

I hadn’t paid much attention the first time I was here, but it was incredible. The kitchen was large and top of the line. The marble island matched the marble countertops and were off set by black cabinets with glass fronts. A large bar opened into the living room, where a huge leather sectional sat in the middle of the room. A few pieces of art had been hung on the wall since the last time I was here, and there was now a dining room table near the glass sliding doors, which opened onto the patio.

“You’ve decorated a little since I was here last,” I smirked.

“I had just moved in … give me a break,” he said. I opened the glass doors and walked out onto the patio. It was still hot out, but there was a slight breeze that made it bearable. I stared out at the park and the buildings in the distance. Jameson joined me outside, leaning on the rail next to me.

“I would kill for this view,” I said.

“Eh, it’s all right,” he shrugged.

“Everyone in New York City wants this view and you think it’s just all right?” I looked at him like he’d lost his damn mind.

“You should have seen my place in L.A. It was in the hills, overlooked the whole valley, and put this to shame.”

“Just rub it in about all the great views you’ve had,” I laughed.

“None of them are as good as the one I have right now,” he said, his eyes roaming up and down my body.

“You’re going to have to do a little better than that,” I countered dryly.

“It’s hot out here, let’s go back inside,” Jameson changed the subject suddenly.

“I think it’s nice out here,” I lied, beads of sweat beginning to form between my breasts and on my forehead.

“It wasn’t a question,” Jameson growled.

“Oh, Jameson, you should know by now I don’t take orders very well.”

“Very well?” He raised his eyebrow. “I don’t think you take orders at all.”

“Following the rules is boring.”

“I never said anything about following the rules,” Jameson said, his voice low and silky. “In fact, I plan on breaking all the rules.” He walked over and opened the door and stood there waiting for me. “But I promise it will be worth it.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” I said, following him back inside.