Page 35 of Dial L for Lawyer (Curves & Capital #2)

"Don't be. I only have eyes for marketing directors who let seven-year-olds explain fairy tale law to them."

"Seven and three-quarters," she corrects, and I love her so much in that moment it physically hurts.

"Move in with me," I say without thinking.

She freezes. "What?"

"Move in with me. Officially. Not just because of reporters or the case. Because I want to wake up with you every morning and come home to you every night."

"Caleb—"

"I know it's fast. I know we're in the middle of chaos. But Michaela's right—why wait when you know?"

"Because she's seven and believes in fairy tales?"

"Because I'm thirty-eight and I believe in you."

She stares at me for a long moment. "Can I think about it?"

"Take all the time you need." I kiss her forehead.

She bites her lip and looks away. For a while, neither of us says anything. The muted city light filters through the windows, painting us in soft, uncertain blue. I can sense an entire hurricane brewing behind her silence.

"You don't have to decide right now," I say, gentling my voice, though the intensity of how much I want this bleeds through every word.

She tries to deflect with humor, but her bravado is thin tonight. "Yeah, well. Maybe I just don't want to move in with a guy before I've seen exactly how bad his beer farts really are," she says, and the line is so perfectly her that I almost laugh with relief.

"That's fair."

She laughs, but it's shaky, vulnerable. I cup her face, thumbs stroking her cheekbones. "Hey. I meant what I said. Take all the time you need. I'm not going anywhere."

"You say that now, but?—"

"No buts. I've waited months to have you in my life. I can wait as long as you need to feel ready." I lean my forehead against hers. "Besides, you already have a key. That's basically halfway moved in already."

"That's not how it works."

"Sure it is. Key, toothbrush, drawer full of clothes. Next I'll clear half the closet—it's a natural progression."

She's smiling now, real and warm. "Presumptuous."

"Optimistic." I brush my lips against hers, barely a kiss. "I'm very optimistic about us."

"Yeah?" Her voice is soft, wondering.

"Hell yeah."

Her mouth finds mine properly this time, soft at first, then more insistent. We sink into the couch, her hands sliding under my shirt, mine tangled in her hair.

"We shouldn't," she murmurs against my lips. "Michaela's right down the hall."

"She sleeps like the dead." I trail kisses down her neck. "David says she could sleep through a tornado."

"Still..." But she's arching into me, her protests half-hearted at best.

I shift us so she's beneath me on the couch, and she wraps her legs around my waist, pulling me closer. The kiss turns desperate, all the stress and fear of the last few days channeling into this—into us, into the heat between us that never seems to fade.

"God, Caleb," she gasps when I drag my teeth along her pulse.

"Shh," I tease. "You'll wake the tiny lawyer."

She bites my shoulder in retaliation, and I have to muffle my groan against her hair. Her hands are everywhere—my chest, my back, tugging at my belt?—

The front door opens.

"Caleb, I forgot to tell you about—JESUS CHRIST."

We spring apart like teenagers caught by their parents. David stands in the doorway, keys in hand, looking like he wants to bleach his eyeballs.

"David," I say, trying to sound dignified while Serena fixes her shirt. "You're back early."

"I never said when I'd be back." He hasn't moved from the doorway, like he's afraid to come closer. "I forgot to mention Michaela has her swim meet tomorrow at nine. Can you be there?"

"Swimming. Absolutely. I'll bring pom-poms."

"You don't own pom-poms," David says, voice equal parts exhaustion and older-brother judgment. "And probably forget it's indoor pool season. Last time you wore shorts to a swim meet, someone complained you were showing too much leg."

Serena is trying very hard not to laugh, while I'm trying not to murder my brother.

"Noted," I say.

David peers over my shoulder, apparently noticing Serena's rumpled hair and recently ravished appearance. He softens slightly, probably because he's already written me off as the family disappointment and sees Serena as a possible redeeming factor.

"Glad to see you're keeping him in line, Serena."

She shrugs, arms still around my waist, half-defiant, half-mortified. "He keeps himself in line mostly. Some days I just let the leash go slack."

David blinks, like he's processing new evidence. "Huh. Well, it's good to see you. I'm also glad this idiot managed to find the evidence you needed to clear your name. But I'm even more glad I interrupted whatever was about to happen." He gestures at the couch. "Were you two just..."

"No," I say at the same time Serena says, "Kind of."

David pinches the bridge of his nose. "Seriously, Caleb? On my couch?"

"We were fully clothed," I point out.

"That's not much better! That's my couch! Where Michaela watches cartoons!"

"We didn't—nothing actually—" Serena's stumbling over words, mortified.

"I need brain bleach," David mutters. "And a new couch."

"Don't be dramatic," I say.

"I'm not being—" He stops, takes a breath, and his professional mask slides into place. "You know what? I'm too tired for this." He looks at Serena, and something in his expression shifts from horrified older brother to Luminous's in-house counsel. "Serena, It’s good you're here actually."

"You are?" She's still mortified, trying to smooth down her hair.

"I can't discuss specifics—attorney-client privilege and all that." He sets his briefcase down carefully. "But I spent the last three hours walking Wong and Sterling through everything your boyfriend uncovered."

"And?" I prompt.

"And I can't say." But he's looking directly at Serena. "What I can say is that Luminous takes care of its people. The real ones. The ones who built their success through actual talent, not manipulation."

"David—"

"Monday's meeting is going to go very differently than certain people expect," he continues, still focused on Serena. "That's all I can say."

"Thank you," she says softly.

"Don't thank me. Thank my brother for being relentless about finding real evidence. Though apparently that's not the only thing he's being relentless about tonight."

"The couch thing again?" I ask.

"My couch, Caleb. My couch where my daughter eats goldfish crackers and watches Bluey."

"We were just kissing!"

"The intent was clear. That's enough." He picks up his briefcase. "I'm going to check on Michaela, then pour myself a very large scotch to forget what I just witnessed."

He heads down the hall, pauses. "Serena? For what it's worth, I'm really happy you two found each other. Even if you did try to defile my furniture."

"We didn't?—"

"And Caleb?" He cuts me off. "You're buying me a new couch."

"That's ridiculous."

"My house, my rules." He disappears into Michaela's room for a moment, then returns. "She's still out cold. Didn't even stir."

He walks to the door and opens it pointedly. "Thank you for babysitting. Now get out and go ruin your own furniture."