Taking the subway to work is twenty minutes of pure hell. I’m either groped, sniffed, or bumped consistently, or worse, I’m stuck next to someone who hasn’t showered in months. On the very rare occasion when a decent-looking man glances my direction, he’s usually sporting a wedding ring. No matter what people think of me, I’m not a homewrecker.

Today, I’m even grumpier than normal as my mind keeps returning to Saturday night. On some level, I shocked even myself by sleeping with Jake. Sure, he’s not the type I usually go for, but when presented with a challenge, I’m not typically one to back down, and Saturday was proof of that.

Then again, I wanted him. I wouldn’t dare admit that out loud, because Jake is the complete opposite of the type of man I should settle down with—if I ever go that route. If I really want to explore my issue, it isn’t that he plays football for a living—deep down, I know that’s not it. He’s unbelievably cocky, rich, and apparently used to getting his way. Those are traits that turn me off. What I can’t seem to wrap my head around is why I thought one night with a man like him could possibly be okay. I should have known the turmoil a rendezvous with someone like Jake would do to me.

I dated the arrogant playboy when I was younger. I foolishly convinced myself he would change his ways for me. Instead, he left me battered and utterly heartbroken. I was just a kid when that happened. The new and improved adult Lacey knows better, but try telling that to my needy hormones.

What sucks was learning Jake isn’t all talk—at least not when it comes to sex. Instead, he delivered pleasure unlike anything I’ve experienced before, and knowing I’m not going to have that again has my mood at an all-time low.

When the train finally arrives at my stop, I hop out the doors. Pulling my coat as tight as possible, I quickly make the trek in the freezing cold down the sidewalk.

“About time you showed up,” Caleb says with his hands cupped near his mouth.

“Why in the world are you waiting outside for me?”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

I hold back my smile at his comment. “Because it’s fucking cold.”

Caleb is a stand-up guy, plain and simple.

“Come on, let’s figure out what shit clients we have to defend and get this week over with.” I sigh and pull out my badge. The two of us make our way through security and over to the elevators.

“How’s it going with your sister?”

I give him a dramatic groan. “Horrible. I think she’s avoiding me as much as possible. She never came home Saturday night, and I didn’t see her all day yesterday until I was ready for bed.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad.”

I glare at Caleb as we step onto the crowded elevator. “What will sound amazing is when she tells me her new address.”

“Come on, Lace, cut her some slack. She just started a new job in a new city. We both know first-hand how hard it is when you’re first starting out.”

I roll my eyes and ignore his comment.

Caleb’s parents paid for his college tuition. While they might not be wealthy by New York standards, they helped both Caleb and his brother earn their degrees without the necessity of student loans. So, while Caleb and I make the same amount of money, he’s not spending half his paycheck on the same debt that’s providing him a job.

“Send me a text if you want to grab lunch later,” he says when we arrive at our floor.

I nod, and then the two of us turn and go in opposite directions.

I watched one too many episodes of Law and Order growing up. The passion I felt in that fake courtroom inspired me to become a lawyer. What I was too young to understand is it should have inspired me to become an actress, because everyday courtrooms are nothing like what you see on TV. I don’t hate my job, but right now, I’m a bottom feeder who can’t see the end of the corporate ladder, because I have that far to climb—again, that’s okay. I was told all through law school the road to success is long and hard, but what I didn’t envision was being hired by a large firm only to be given nothing but their pro bono work.

It’s very seldom I’m gifted with a client who didn’t pay a parking ticket or who was caught jaywalking. Instead, I’m given cases that even Johnny Cochran couldn’t win, and after a quick glance through this week’s files, I can tell it’s going to be another week from hell.

I’m scheduled to be in court all afternoon; therefore, I skipped having lunch with Caleb. Since I’m on my firm’s dime, I grabbed a cab to the courthouse, which allowed me time to look over my files before I met my clients.

Everyday petty crimes that require you to go before a judge are shuffled in and out fairly quick. I consider myself lucky if I have even five minutes with a defendant before the judge is ready to proceed, and I swear on my life, our firm purposely gives me the craziest defendants possible. Caleb occasionally has a case that offers a good laugh, but that’s all I’m given.

“Mr. Gepford, I think it’s in your best interest to plead guilty.”

My seventy-four-year-old client twist in his seat to look at me. “It was an accident.”

“You urinated on a woman’s leg in Central Park.”

“She had on those tight pants that kids wear these days.”

“What does that have to do with your case, Mr. Gepford?”

“They were brown pants and she was wearing an ugly green shirt. She looked like a damn tree.”

I bite my lip to keep myself from lashing out.

“And since when can a man not whip it out and relieve himself on a tree?”

“Mr. Gepford, there are laws preventing you from exposing yourself in public.”

“Well, that’s just dumb.”

“Regardless of your thoughts, since you peed on this woman, the state has charged you with public lewdness. They could’ve added an assault and battery charge if they wanted to.”

“For peeing on a tree?”

“No, Mr. Gepford, for peeing on a woman,” I snap as my frustration takes over. “This is a class B misdemeanor. I’m telling you, plead guilty, tell the court you’re sorry, and then pray Judge Towner is in a good mood.”

“No,” he mumbles before crossing his arms over his chest, pouting like a toddler.

“All rise.”

I exhale a long breath knowing this is going to be a long fucking day.

By the time I arrived home, all I wanted was a hot bath and a glass of wine, but my night was derailed when I found Morgan sitting on my couch watching TV.

“Did you have a good day?” she questions with a grin.

I set my purse and phone down on the table before walking over to her. “Oh, it was great. I’m at the point where nothing people do anymore surprises me.”

“Oh, come on, Lace. Some of the things we did when we were younger would make a grown man blush.”

“You can’t compare the two. The cops were rarely involved with the crap we pulled, and I seldom defend teenagers. These are grown adults who lack common sense.”

“Yeah, well…” She trails off with a shrug.

“Exactly, but I’m practicing law and that’s been my dream for years.”

“Good attitude, sis. I didn’t know you had it in you.”

I meet her gaze with an annoyed expression. “Speaking of good attitudes, mine is bound to increase once you find your own place. When will that happen?”

“Soon.” She scoffs and waves me off. “I have a couple appointments later this week to view a few places. I’ve heard you bitch about the cost of living in New York before, but I didn’t understand what you really meant until now.”

If I were a good sister, I’d tell her to take her time, or better yet, I’d offer to share my apartment with her, but as much as I would enjoy the extra money at the end of the month, living with Morgan will drive me batshit crazy in no time.

“Good luck on finding a place.” I pick up my phone and walk to my room. “I think I’m going to take a bath and call it a night.”

“Okay,” she replies with her eyes already back on the TV.

I should have gone to the gym on my way home. The amount of pent-up frustration I have will make me a cranky bitch come morning, but it felt like I was sleepwalking on my way home. I left the courthouse, and in the blink of an eye, I was at my apartment door. I strip out of my clothing and grab my robe when my phone buzzes with a text. I glance at my cell on my way to the bathroom, only to find a text from an unknown number.

After I read the text, I tuck my phone into the pocket of my robe. I turn the water on when it buzzes again.

Ugh, I hate it when wrong numbers keep calling or texting.

My heart leaps into my throat.

Jake.

Lord only knows how he managed to get my cell phone number.

I set my phone down, light a candle, and slide into the bath. Instantly, my body starts to relax as the hot water penetrates my skin. Seconds later, my phone buzzes with another text. I should ignore him, but for reasons I don’t want to consider, I dry my hand off with a towel and pick up my phone.

I tense the second I read his text. I don’t expect anything from Jake. I knew exactly the type of man he was when I allowed him to come home with me. Without a doubt, I knew he’d move on to someone else, but I wasn’t expecting him to involve me in his next conquest, nor did I know how much it would truly bother me that he has.

I immediately see the bubble pop up that he’s responding. I should turn my phone off and forget about Jake, but apparently, I’m glutton for punishment.

I swallow as my core floods with desire.

I close my eyes, trying my hardest to forget how he felt when he moved inside me when my phone buzzes again.

I blow out a frustrated breath, fighting the urge to place my hand between my legs as he continues to text me.

He wants me again. The thought stuns me into a bewildered state of confusion. I thought he was going out to dinner with someone else tomorrow night.

Oh, shit. The unexpected flutters that form in my stomach are unnerving. I haven’t felt this way in…years. I no longer lust over men. When I’m horny and my vibrator won’t do the trick, I find a guy, an average-looking man who doesn’t draw out any long-term desires, but that’s not the case with Jake and it pisses me off.

I roll my eyes. He just had to get a smug comment in there somewhere.

My mouth waters with desire. Thankfully, he’s nowhere around to see how turned on I am.

I chew on my lip, debating on how I should answer him. If I allow my stupid hormones to speak for me, I’ll end up asking him to come over tonight, but in reality, that’s absolutely the very last thing I should do.

I sigh heavily as a war breaks out in my head. One more night—in a hotel room, no less—sounds tempting. Very damn tempting, but this is Jake fucking Girard, Mr. Football God himself. Outside of a few amazing orgasms, nothing good can come from spending time with him.

Holy shit, I can’t remember the last time I was this turned on. All I know is…in this very moment…I want him. Desperately.

“What did I just do?” I mumble to myself when my phone buzzes again.

My eyes drift closed as all the reasons why this is a horrible idea play in my mind. If Jordan and Chase find out, I’ll never hear the end of it—not to mention, a man like Jake feels dangerous. I haven’t allowed my feelings to play any part in my sexual relationships, and with Jake, I fear that could happen.

Oh, fuck…this could get interesting.