“Beau,” she gasps. “What is that?”
“A sunroom.”
It’s off the kitchen. Technically, off the living room, too.
It’s a vaulted room, impossibly high on one side, sloping down into a series of wide, slanted windows that look up through the trees. It continues down with a wall of windows, broken only by French doors. It feels like we’re standing on a calm version of the cliff—there’s a clear view of the sea. The designer I hired from New York has added live plants in the corners. A few black-and-beige prints of a nautilus. A small white-globe light hanging from the ceiling will provide only enough light to read when it gets dark.
She’ll still be able to see the stars.
“This is my favorite spot,” she says, climbing into the king-sized futon, complete with matching throw pillows and a large oversized knit blanket. Already an end table contains a stack of books, and she runs her fingers down the spines.
I want her fingers on me. “Your favorite spot? Not the bedroom?”
“My second-favorite spot, then,” she says with an impish grin.
“There’s something else.”
“More than this?” Jane stands and walks to the kitchen. She opens her arms wide and twirls beneath the skylights. “I thought you were keeping things simple.”
“It is simple.”
I lead her back through the kitchen and stop at the first door on the right. Jane opens it and tiptoes in. “You wanted two offices?”
“It’s for you.” A real, honest-to-God office. Floor-to-ceiling shelves. A sturdy desk by a window that looks out on the side yard. An armchair for comfort. “You need a place other than the coffee shop or the sofa to do your work.”
“I barely have any work yet.” Her dark eyes are bright with happiness even as she tries to convince me that she doesn’t need this. “Applications and essays.”
“It’s important work.” I take her face in my hands and kiss her. Jane’s sweet and warm. I could kiss her every second for the rest of my life and it wouldn’t be enough. “It’s how you’ll take the next step. And once you’ve chosen that, you’ll have this place to come back to. It’s all yours.”
“Let me see your office. Let me see where you’ll be when I’m in here.”
“It’s on the other side of that wall.”
“No door?” Jane’s pout isn’t serious, but if I could, I’d punch through the wall and make a door right now. “I guess it’s better for focus.”
“It’s why we have separate rooms. If I could see you, I wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you.”
I can’t keep my hands off her now. We go over to my office. Jane gets quieter as we approach my desk. “This room is just like you. It’s serious. A little… dangerous.”
“Dangerous? The desk?”
“The man.” She leans against the desk, her hands curling around the edge. Jane did this on purpose. We’re down here because of the thrill. And because we’ve done things in my office before. Things that are too filthy for a sweetheart like Jane. “It makes me want you.”
Everything makes me want her. She can’t take a breath without me wanting her. She can’t put on a shirt in the morning or wiggle her hips into sleep shorts at night without me wanting to fuck her. I should have more control over my urges at this point in life. Jane Mendoza has demolished that idea. I’m at the mercy of her.
“You didn’t like the bedroom?”
“I love the bedroom.” She watches me get closer. Tips her face up as I cage her against the desk. “I like your office, too.”
“With the door wide open like this?” We’re alone in the house, but she likes the suggestion of an illicit game. “Anyone could see you. Or hear you. There’s nothing to block the sound.”
“You’re the only one I care about.”
* * *
Jane Mendoza
Beau’s arms are like a cage. They hold me in place. There’s a touch of fear, but that only drives the desire hotter.
“Do you remember?” he asks. “Do you remember when you came in my office?” There’s dark knowledge in his eyes and I know exactly what he’s talking about.
It feels like my cheeks are on fire. Without breaking eye contact, I shake my head no. “I don’t remember.” It’s a lie and it’s also a challenge. I want him to remind me.
The corner of his mouth lifts. He reaches back to hold my hair, his fist tightens until it tugs my scalp, until tears sting my eyes. He leans close and licks at my lips. Bites at them.
It’s not a sweet kiss, it’s aggressive.
And my body reacts, readying itself for him.
I’m already halfway to orgasm and he’s barely even touched me. He definitely hasn’t touched me between my legs. He won’t, if this is anything like last time.
“Let me remind you,” he says, the words low against my lips.
And then his hand directs me down, down, down until my knees touch the ground.
They’re straddling his shoes, the same brown dress shoes that probably cost some ungodly amount of money, probably imported from Italy.
“Go ahead,” he says, his eyes glittering with sexual menace. “Make yourself feel good.”
I’m too embarrassed. It was one thing to do it in his dark office at Coach House. This one is full of light. No one’s watching, but anyone could see me.
His expression says he knows. He knows, but there isn’t going to be any mercy. He taps two fingers against my cheek in command. “Bear down, sweetheart. You know how to begin. You did it so well before. You did it so sweetly, humping your pretty cunt on my shoe, holding my leg, riding me for all you’re worth. You remember now, don’t you?”
I let out a jagged breath. “Yes,” I say unsteadily.
He waits with endless patience. I can see the bulge in his slacks. I can see his arousal, but it doesn’t change anything. This is for me, which makes it somehow more humiliating that I should derive my pleasure in this way.
I rock my hips experimentally. The pressure feels wrong.
His fingers, his mouth, his cock. I’ve been spoiled by a man who knows how to please me.
But this? This is awkward. And ironically that’s what makes it hotter.
I rock again and close my eyes.
“No,” he says. “Watch me.”
I look into his eyes, into their fathomless depth, as I press my sex to the top of his shoe, again and again, until climax overtakes me in a sudden, bright, almost painful burst.
CHAPTER THREE
Emily Rochester
I don’t like the courthouse.
I’ve never liked it, from the time I went to school here. The building’s the same style as most of the city buildings, but something about the courthouse just feels foreboding and vaguely threatening. It’s one of those places where your life can be made or ruined.
Neither of those things happened to me today, unless your life is ruined if you have to testify against your brother, which I did.
It’s over now, and I want to leave. Paige is with Beau and Jane, and I want to get back to her. I want to get back to anywhere that’s not this trial, and this courthouse. Anywhere I can be with my daughter and out from under the dark cloud of my brother’s actions.