Page 29

LONDON

When I wake, Kallum’s heat is at my back, his hand pressed against my pussy while his finger teases my clit and his bare cock rubs against my backside.

His teeth gently nip at my neck, making my breath hitch.

His lips smile against my sensitive flesh when he realizes I’m awake.

I arch my back and grind my ass against his cock.

Instead of giving me what I crave, he continues to tease me by rubbing circles over my clit.

It’s not enough. I want him inside me. “Kallum, please.”

“What do you want, baby?” he asks.

“I want you to stop playing and fuck me already.”

Does he listen? Nope.

He’s gotten me so wet that the inside of my thighs is soaked. Having had enough, I reach back and grab a fistful of his hair while looking him square in the eyes. “Goddamn it, Kallum.”

Kallum smiles that annoying smirk reserved only for me. The one where I’ve given him exactly what he wants and, in a flash, both of our bodies roll until Kallum is flat on his back, and I’m sitting upward while straddling his hips.

Still dazed, I peer back over my shoulder and study Kallum’s face as I begin grinding my wet pussy against the base of his cock. “Two can play at this game,” I rasp.

A muscle in Kallum’s jaw twitches, and he bucks beneath me, then digs his fingers into my hips. “That’s not how this works.”

In an instant, he lifts effortlessly and then slams me back down onto his cock. We both groan as he fills me completely. I grind my hips, taking him deeper. Kallum’s fingers curl around my hips to the point of pain, but I love it.

“Fuck, your pussy is choking the hell out of my dick,” he growls.

His words only encourage me to move, so I raise my hips and then slowly slide back down. Closing my eyes, I repeat the move over and over until the sound of our wet bodies slapping together fills the room. I yelp when Kallum’s palm smacks against my ass cheek. “Open your eyes and watch,” he orders.

Doing as I’m told, I open my eyes and stare straight ahead.

A gasp escapes my mouth when I see myself in the reflection of the dresser mirror in front of the bed.

I almost don’t recognize the woman staring back at me.

My hair is wild, my eyes are glazed over with lust, and my face is flushed.

Suddenly, my gaze connects with Kallum’s in the mirror.

“Look how beautiful you are ridin’ my cock.”

He's right.

I look good.

We look good.

Kallum and I fit together perfectly.

Dragging my nails along his thighs, I keep a steady pace, all while watching our reflection.

“Tell me you’re close,” Kallum grits out.

“I’m close,” I confess. Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as my release builds and my pussy starts to pulse around his cock.

“Fuck, I can feel you comin’.” Kallum thrust his hips upward.

That’s all it takes. On a cry, my orgasm slams through me. Behind me, Kallum curses through heaving breaths as he follows me over the edge.

Later that morning, Promise and I arrive at the office the same way we have the past couple of days, with Catcher as our shadow.

Zara is there waiting for us when we walk in.

Since she has to drop her son off at preschool early every morning, she comes straight to the office to prepare Promise’s and my calendars and to make coffee.

And if we have client meetings in the office that day, she ensures beverages and snacks are prepared and in the conference room.

“Morning, guys,” Zara greets us with a smile.

“Morning, Zara.”

Zara stands and walks around her desk. “London, Mrs. Wells had to reschedule her eight-thirty appointment for this Friday. However, I took a call from a gentleman about ten minutes ago who insisted on meeting with you.” Zara looks down at her tablet.

“Mr. Harrison. He said you were recommended by a friend of his. He sounded rather desperate, so I put him down for eight-thirty since Mrs. Wells rescheduled. I hope that’s okay. If not, I can call him back.”

I wave my hand. “No, no. That’s fine. I’ll take the meeting. Thanks, Zara.”

Zara looks down at her watch. “Mr. Harrison should be here in fifteen minutes. I’ll set the conference room up.”

Catcher takes his post in the corner of the waiting room while Promise disappears down the hall toward her office. “I have some calls to make,” she calls out over her shoulder. “Let me know if you need anything.”

On my way to my office, Zara passes me holding a cup of coffee, a paper plate filled with a couple of donuts, and a ham and cheese bagel. She heads straight for the waiting area where Catcher is sitting and passes him the food and coffee. I smile at how well Zara has gotten used to his presence.

Once in my office, I store my purse in the cabinet beside my desk and grab a notepad, pen, and laptop before heading into the conference room.

Just as I settle into one of the chairs, Zara appears at the door.

“Hey, Mr. Harrison just arrived. You still have a few minutes. Do you want me to have him take a seat out there or send him back?”

“I’m ready for him. You can send him back.”

Zara nods and dips out of the room. A few seconds later, she returns with a man close behind.

Standing, I make my way around the table to greet him. “You must be Mr. Harrison.” I offer the man my hand and a warm smile. “I’m Ms. Monroe.”

I take in the man standing before me. He’s at least six feet tall and slim but has broad shoulders.

His hair is dark brown, almost black, and he has brown eyes.

I’d put him at around mid to late thirties.

I can’t note anything remarkable about the man, but he exudes confidence and has an air of authority.

He’s dressed in a sharp suit, perfectly tailored to his build and height.

I don’t miss the Rolex on his wrist when he takes my hand.

Also, I don’t miss the gold cufflinks he’s sporting.

The man obviously comes from money or is successful in his own right, which has me wondering why he’s looking to hire me.

Not that I’m not a damn good attorney, but guys like Mr. Harrison tend to lean toward the more popular firms downtown that cater to the elite and wealthy. Birds of a feather and all that jazz.

“Nice to meet you, Ms. Monroe. Thank you for agreeing to meet with me on such short notice.” Mr. Harrison smiles. I’ll admit Mr. Harrison has a great smile with perfectly straight white teeth, but he lacks those little lines at the corners of his eyes, which tell me he doesn’t smile too often.

“It’s no problem at all, Mr. Harrison.” I gesture toward the chair at the end of the table. “Please, have a seat.”

Mr. Harrison inclines his head and takes a seat.

“Before we get started, would you like anything to drink? We have coffee, juice, or bottled water.”

“How kind of you, Ms. Monroe, but I’m good.”

I nod and sit across from him. “Why don’t we start with why you are here today?

” I open my laptop and prepare to take notes.

When Mr. Harrison doesn’t say anything, I look up from my computer to find him watching me, his gaze assessing.

I’m not sure what to make of the man just yet, as he seems relaxed with his impeccable posture.

One hand rests on top of the table while the other is casually draped over the arm of the chair.

Yet, there is something about Mr. Harrison that raises questions, and I just can’t put my finger on why.

Finally, he speaks, “I want to divorce my wife.”

“Okay.” I keep my tone even and wait for Mr. Harrison to elaborate.

“Six months ago, I started to suspect she was having an affair, so I hired a private detective. It didn’t take him long to confirm my suspicions.”

My face softens. “I’m sorry to hear that, Mr. Harrison.”

Mr. Harrison continues, “I don’t wish to go after her for alimony. I seek a clean break. The only problem is I know she will likely fight the divorce and, at the very least, try to get her hands on as much of my money as possible.”

I stop typing and look up from my computer. “So, no splitting of the assets? You want to leave her with nothing?” I ask, keeping my tone neutral.

“She can leave with what she came into the marriage with… nothing,” Mr. Harrison states without a shred of emotion.

“So, you feel your wife will contest the divorce?”

“Yes.”

“How long have you and your wife been married?” I ask.

“Twelve years.”

“Any children?”

Mr. Harrison shakes his head. “No children.”

I nod and put that in my notes. “Do you have any joint accounts or property with your wife?”

“No. She doesn’t work, and everything is in my name.”

“What are your thoughts on spousal support?”

“Absolutely not. My wife doesn’t get a dime.”

It’s not uncommon for people to disassociate from their emotions as they go through a divorce, especially after finding out a spouse has cheated, but there is something—I don’t know— off about Mr. Harrison.

I’ve heard stories like his more times than I can count.

They are a dime a dozen. But the man in front of me is talking about his marriage and his wife cheating like he’s reading from a script.

“You mentioned something about a private investigator before. I’m assuming you can provide proof of your wife’s affair.”

Before he replies, Mr. Harrison studies me for a long time, almost to the point of making me uncomfortable. “That is correct.”

Ignoring his odd behavior, I push forward. “If you wish to proceed with my services, I’ll need to see the evidence in question.”

“I’ll bring everything you need soon, Ms. Monroe. I look forward to handling this unfortunate matter as soon as possible. For all involved.”

Something about the way Mr. Harrison says that last part doesn’t bode well with me.

Thankfully, Zara chooses that moment to interrupt. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but you have a call on line two. They say it’s urgent.”

“Thank you, Zara.” I stand. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Harrison. I’ll have to take this.”