Page 95 of A Legal Affair

Her heart pounded like a drum as a hedonistic thrill of arousal shot through her, spiraling from the sensitive tips of her breasts down to her damp core. “Caleb…” His name was a breathy moan on her lips.

His callused palm cupped her face and then slid into her hair as he swiftly bent his head. His mouth opened over hers in fevered demand, and need cracked like a whip through her body.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she leaned into him, kissing him back with equal hunger. His tongue delved inside her mouth, hot and sweet, and the blistering pleasure made her shiver and moan. He stroked his tongue along hers, tasting, exploring, his hands firm in her hair as he held her in place. Heat twisted in her stomach and her breasts throbbed, aching for his touch. Before she knew what was happening she was on his lap, her ass pressed to the rock-hard length of his cock.

In the space of a heartbeat they went from kissing to outright devouring each other, totally oblivious to the tour guide’s presence or their public surroundings.

It was Caleb who finally broke the kiss, tearing his mouth away and pressing his forehead against hers. His eyes were dark, intense. Ravenous.

“I know you asked if we could slow things down, and I respect your wishes,” he rumbled, his voice like coarse velvet. “But if we keep this up a second longer, Daniela, nothing will stop me from laying you down in this boat and making love to you, and I can’t promise that I’ll be gentle.”

Her pulse hammered. “Who says I want you to be?” she challenged in a throaty voice she hardly recognized as her own.

Caleb’s eyes glittered under a canopy of cypress trees strewn with tiny lights. “We need to get out of here before we get arrested for indecent exposure and a helluva lot more,” he growled.

29

On their way back to Caleb’s apartment, they stopped at one of the riverside restaurants and ordered dessert to go. Armed with two hefty servings of tiramisu, they headed up the street to the Towers at the Majestic.

Caleb escorted Daniela into the marbled lobby where a uniformed security guard was buried behind the sports section of theExpress-News.

“How’s it going, Mr. Hammond?” Caleb greeted him.

The man looked up from his newspaper and beamed when he saw Caleb. “Hey there, counselor! You’re home a little early tonight.”

“I know,” Caleb drawled, making Daniela wonder if he regularly stayed out late, and with whom. She quickly shoved aside the ugly suspicion, determined not to let anything spoil the perfection of the evening.

“Mr. Hammond, I’d like you to meet Daniela Moreau. Daniela, this is Eugene Hammond.”

Daniela smiled at the older black man. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Lowering his newspaper, the security guard leaned forward with an engaging smile. “Pleased to meetyou, Miss Moreau.” He winked at Caleb. “No wonder you’re home early, son.”

Caleb chuckled. “Have a good evening, Mr. Hammond,” he said before leading Daniela toward the gleaming bank of elevators.

She was sorely tempted to ask him about his nocturnal activities, but did she really want to know if he spent his nights meeting women at bars and hitting up strip clubs?

Definitely not.

They rode the elevator to the top floor and exited into a wide, tiled corridor. Caleb’s penthouse unit was located at the very end of the hallway. Unlocking the front door, he gestured Daniela inside ahead of him.

With the flick of a switch, cool white lights washed over miles of glossy hardwood flooring. Dark, contemporary furnishings were arranged around a large living room that boasted twenty-foot coffered ceilings, a marble fireplace and a pair of tall French doors that opened onto enclosed side porches. Huge windows with wrought-iron bars commanded a panoramic view of the glittering downtown skyline, the lights of the Pearl Brewery not too far off in the distance.

Daniela heard a soft gasp escape her lips as she crossed the length of the room, lured by the stunning vista.

“Oh, Caleb,” she breathed. “You mean you wake up to this view every morning?”

“Something like that.” He disappeared into the kitchen, and moments later the mellow, sexy strains of a song came floating out from a surround sound system. “Die For You” by The Weeknd.

Caleb emerged carrying a bottle of merlot and a pair of wineglasses in one hand, and balancing two square dessert plates in the other. By the time Daniela hurried over to help him, he’d already set everything down on the modern stone table occupying the cozy dining space.

“Bienvenue à la maison de Thorne,” he announced with an elegant flourish. “Dessert is now served,mademoiselle.”

Daniela grinned as he gallantly pulled out a chair for her before seating himself. “Merci, monsieur. Your enunciation is flawless, Caleb.Parlez-vous français?”

He chuckled, uncorking the merlot and filling their wineglasses. “Oui. But only when I’m trying to impress a pretty girl.”

“Ahh,” Daniela said with an understanding nod. “Well, then, I suppose I should consider myself privileged.”