“You were late.”
I poke him in the chest. “And you are jealous because I was kissing him and not you.”
His eyes glance down to my lips. My heart rate picks up and his eyes glare back into mine. “I have nothing to be jealous about.”
“Liar.”
He leans in even closer. “You think because I fucked you once that I would be jealous about who you spread your legs for?”
Well at least he finally admitted to it. “You didn’t fuck me once. You fucked me three times.”
“It wasn’t that memorable for me.”
I can see the lust in his eyes and the way he is resisting with every bone in his body not to lean into me in the way his neck is strained and his jaw is tight. “Is that so?”
“Yes.”
I push against his shoulders but he barely budges. “Then if it wasn’t memorable and you aren’t jealous and you weren’t looking at me like you wanted to fuck me on top of that bar last night, then I suggest you move.”
He doesn’t even budge.
So I drop my hands, gliding them over the rich texture of the vest of his three-piece suit. He only wears a three-piece when he has to be in court. My hands drop lower until they hit his abs and stop at his belt.
His nostrils flare and I have to shift in my chair as I start to get uncomfortable from his gaze. Because he looks like he is ready to eat me alive.
I bite my lip, ready to drop my hands even lower, when his phone rings. His eyes close and he takes a deep breath before pulling away from me. I don’t miss the bulge in his pants. It only gives me some satisfaction knowing he definitely was jealous.
We work in silence for the next hour. Well I am silent and he is on and off the phone or talking to the interns who walk into the office every now and then. I feel bad for them. His tone is clipped.
Then I start to feel bad for Carson. I made his attitude even worse by bringing up that night. By bringing up last night.
I watch him as he puts his suit jacket on. My entire body clenching at the way he looks in a full three-piece suit. He runs his hands through his hair then grabs his briefcase.
When he makes it to the door, I stop him. The guilt in me wanting him to know the truth before he has to own the courtroom.
“I didn’t go home with him.” I rush the words out. “Just so you know.”
He doesn’t say anything to me. His face a blank canvas as he walks out the door. And I’m not sure if I made it better or worse.