WHEN STONE HAD flashed Hillary a peek of what he’d hidden in his briefcase, she’d looked so surprised. But why? She’d said in her opening argument that he was a bad man. And after last night, she could have no doubt about just how bad Stone could be. He’d even surprised himself.
But when she’d kissed him back, something had happened to Stone that had never happened before. As she’d run her fingers up the nape of his neck and tunneled them through his hair, clasping his head to hers, her lips had moved so hungrily over his. She’d kissed him deeply—with her lips, with her tongue. And passion had overwhelmed him. He’d felt such a jolt of sexual awareness and energy. But he hadn’t been the only one feeling it.
Because she’d moved her hands from his hair to the buttons of his shirt. She hadn’t just undone them; she’d torn them open. Then she ran her hands over his chest, making his heart beat so fast and hard that he’d thought it would bust right out of him like his cock had tried busting right out of his fly.
“Hillary...” Her name had escaped his lips on a groan. She’d been torturing him with her touch, with her kiss.
And she’d broken his will to resist.
Not that he’d wanted to resist. He hadn’t even intended to kiss her, though, when he’d come to her office. He’d only wanted to talk, to find out what the hell the evidence was that she’d bragged about having in court. But then he’d wanted to taste that chocolate on her mouth. He still hadn’t intended to do anything other than kiss her then, though.
Until she’d kissed him back.
Then he’d reached for her clothes, like she’d reached for his. He pulled that camisole up and over her head. Beneath it she’d worn the lace bra that was now in his briefcase. Nude, so it wouldn’t show through her clothes, it was practical and conservative, but the lace had made it sexy. And her breasts nearly spilling over the cups of the bra had made it even sexier. Like her...
She was sexy as hell.
Impossibly attracted to her, he’d unclasped her bra and feasted on her breasts. They were so full, the skin so silky, the nipples so taut and tempting. He nipped at one with his teeth, and she cried out his name.
Needing to know if he’d made her come, he slid his hand under her skirt, and he found her hot and wet and ready for him. So he lifted her onto her desk, knocking aside some folders that had already looked ready to topple. She hadn’t uttered a protest at the mess he was making or over him touching her. Instead, she fumbled with his zipper and freed his erection. Her fingers slid around his cock and then up and down the length of it.
And he’d nearly come, too.
But he wanted more than a quick hand job. He wanted her. So he’d pulled back. And he fumbled a condom out of his wallet. Before he could tear it open, she’d taken it from his hand and torn it with her teeth.
And he’d groaned again, his cock throbbing with the tension gripping him. It had been so intense that it was almost painful. He’d needed a release more than he could ever remember needing one before.
He wanted her so badly that he nearly came when she rolled the condom over him. “Hillary...” He’d growled her name between gritted teeth.
And she’d giggled.
Stone didn’t like to be laughed at, so he’d punished her. Instead of plunging inside her, he dropped to his knees. After pushing up her skirt, he tore her panties off. Then he teased her with his tongue, lapping at her until she arched off her desk and screamed his name.
She tasted sweeter than the chocolate he’d kissed off her mouth. So damn sweet. And she was so wet and hot for him that he’d thrust inside her then. Over and over again, he thrusted as she locked her legs around his waist. They’d moved together in a frenzy, desperate for release.
Her inner muscles had convulsed and clutched him as she came again. Then Stone’s body had tensed and he’d shouted her name as he came—longer and more powerfully than he could remember having come in a long time.
Maybe it was just that it had been a long time since he’d been with someone. He’d been so busy getting ready for this case.
“Mr. Michaelsen!” Judge Harrison shouted his name. “Did you come to court this morning just to disrespect me?”
Stone blinked away the memories of the night before and glanced uneasily around. Everyone else in the courtroom was standing, including the judge. Stone was the only one sitting yet—in front of his briefcase with the bra sticking out from beneath a folder.
He jumped to his feet, hoping like hell that his suit coat hid the erection straining against his fly.
“I’m sorry, Your Honor,” he said. He’d brought the bra to court to rattle Hillary. But it had had the reverse effect.
Last night she’d been the one rattled, so rattled that she’d pulled on her camisole and jacket and forgotten her bra as she’d struggled to collect all the files Stone had knocked onto the floor.
So Stone had picked up her bra, but before he could give it to her, she’d shouted at him to get out of her office. “Get out! Get out! Oh, my God, I can’t believe we did that! That was a mistake!”
Stone couldn’t have agreed more. And he hated making mistakes. But that one...with her...he hadn’t minded one damn bit. In fact, he’d enjoyed the hell out of it and out of her.
She’d felt so damn good—so hot and tight.
“Mr. Michaelsen?” the judge asked from his seat on the bench. “Do you have something to say?”
And now Stone was the only one standing as everyone else had followed the judge’s example and taken their seats. Heat rushed to his face, and he shook his head. As he sat down, his client looked quizzically at him, his brow furrowed.
“Are you okay?” Byron whispered.
Stone nodded. “Yeah, yeah...” He was trying to convince himself as much as his client. What the hell was wrong with him? How had he let her get to him like she had?
“Is this some weird strategy of yours?” Byron asked.
Had the man seen the bra?
Stone hadn’t intended for anyone but Hillary to see it—to know that he had it, that he had had her. But now he wondered who had had whom.
He snapped his briefcase closed. “Everything’s under control,” he assured his client.
Now.
Last night Stone had never been more out of control than he’d been with Hillary Bellows. He didn’t dare glance over at her. He could imagine how much she was enjoying this. As much as she’d enjoyed last night?
* * *
Hillary barely held in the giggle tickling her nose and throat. But she knew if she let the laugh slip out, she would be reprimanded next. And if the judge asked her why she was laughing...
She couldn’t tell him the truth without uptight Judge Harrison tossing her off the case. But she wouldn’t be able to lie, either. Not in court.
Damn it.
Damn Stone Michaelsen.
Why the hell had he kissed her the night before? And why hadn’t she been able to resist him?
She’d known—even as she was tearing off his clothes—that it was a mistake. But she’d had to see that magnificent body of his naked. And he hadn’t stopped her.
She wished now that he would have, because she couldn’t unsee what she’d seen. She couldn’t unfeel what she’d felt. He was even more amazing than he’d been in her fantasies. His body was perfect—all taut skin and hard rippling muscles. And the way he’d touched her, kissed her, moved inside her...
Heat flushed her body as tension wound tightly inside her. She needed him moving inside her again.
“Ms. Bellows!” The judge bellowed her name. “Are you ready to call your first witness?”
Now heat flushed her face. She jumped to her feet and said, “Yes, Your Honor, I am.”
Not ready. She was not ready to think about anything but what had happened the night before. But she couldn’t think about that anymore.
She couldn’t think about Stone Michaelsen as anything but the opposition in court. And as the opposition, she had to crush him and now she had the evidence to do it. He was not going to help another guilty person get away with their crimes as he’d helped too many others.
She called her first witness to the stand. It was the maid who’d found the young Mrs. Mueller’s body in her husband’s den. She turned around to watch the woman enter the back of the courtroom. And as she turned, she saw Stone first and that damn briefcase where he’d stuffed her bra. And she remembered how he’d gotten her off the night before.
Twice.
In the bra she wore, her nipples tightened, and her core began to pulse with desire. How the hell could she want him yet? His bringing her bra to court proved that last night had meant nothing to him beyond getting something over her. A way to manipulate her.
He wanted to mess with her case. Maybe he intended to report her to the judge and get a mistrial for his client. She held her breath, waiting for his objection or for him to ask to speak to the judge in chambers.
But hell, he wouldn’t bother saving her any embarrassment. He would probably announce right in open court that he’d had sex with her in her office—on her desk.
She hadn’t even noticed the folders toppling over to the ground or the hard surface of the desk beneath her butt. She hadn’t been aware of anything but him and how hot and sexy he was. And when he’d touched her with his mouth, teased her with his tongue.
Her body throbbed with need. She wanted him again. But that wasn’t possible. The line they’d crossed could not be crossed again.
But the damage was already done.
He could tell the judge anytime what they’d done. He could ask that she be recused because he didn’t think she should be prosecuting his client after they’d had sex.
What would her boss say then?
She’d be lucky if all she lost was this case. She would probably lose her job, too.
But Stone didn’t say anything until it was his turn to cross-examine her witness.
And he never looked at her again.
What the hell was he up to?