Page 44 of Overruled

Twenty-Four

Dani

The next few weeks do go remarkably well.

We have had several sessions in court since that night at my apartment, and while I kept expecting them to feel strange, separating work from home came surprisingly easy.

We spent one session arguing with each other about a particular piece of shared property that neither Lorenzo or Bianca had wanted to concede on, and then later that night, Ezra came over to my place with Chinese food to watch Patch Adams .

He’d said it was imperative that I watch after admitting that I’d never seen it.

Another session saw us getting heated over Ezra’s jabs at Bianca’s spending habits over the years; he made several implications about her lifestyle, implying some sort of greed factor there, and by the end of it, Judge Harding was threatening to separate us.

But then later at his apartment, we were laughing over Ezra’s brief obsession with a foreign brand of vitamin water that he’d had delivered to his place by the case until he was so sick of the taste of coconut that he almost hurled at his mother’s birthday party because they’d served a German chocolate cake.

It’s been strange but exhilarating getting to know Ezra, and the more I learn about him, the more I wonder how I ever thought I stood a chance of keeping my distance (outside of the physical, that is).

Sure, he’s still an intolerable asshole most of the time, but beyond that, he’s charming, funny, and surprisingly loyal.

Maybe that’s why I’m so messed up today.

Today’s session had started like any other, but for some reason, when Ezra began grilling his witness—a petite woman who had been a longtime friend of Bianca’s—about any potential motive Bianca might have to ruin her husband, I’d been unable to keep things separate.

I think that it wounded me a little, watching Ezra defend Lorenzo’s character like that. Maybe it’s because deep down, I’m fairly certain that Ezra knows what a piece of shit Lorenzo is, and still he’s trying to rob Bianca of well-deserved retribution on his behalf.

Which, I’m aware, is a grossly unfair line of thinking. That at the end of the day, Ezra is doing his job , and what’s more, there’s a good chance that he hates having to defend Lorenzo. He hasn’t said as much directly; it would be highly unethical if he did, but still, I can sense it, I think.

So why am I sulking about it in my office after hours?

Ezra has texted me a few times after court let out, and normally we would have been at one of each other’s places by now, but I haven’t been able to bring myself to answer him tonight. Not when I have all these conflicting feelings.

I thumb through financial documents, making notes that seem relevant; Ezra will finally be calling Bianca to the stand the next time we are in court, and I want to be prepared for the inevitable question about the first time she filed for divorce.

I’ve already worked out a relatively solid redirect, but as I’m all too aware when it comes to Ezra, you can never be too prepared.

Something that is made overly evident when the person in question knocks on my office door.

I startle when he pokes his head through the unlocked door after opening it; I want to be surprised, but honestly, knowing Ezra’s tenacity the way I do, I’m really not.

“How did you get in?”

“Bribed the security guard,” he says with a grin. “You really should pay that guy more.”

“I have it on good authority that Larry is excellent at his job.”

“Oh, he really is,” Ezra admits. “Actually, I told him that you were expecting me, and that I had some documents to drop off. I guess I’m just too charming to question.”

“You’re too something ,” I scoff.

Ezra steps inside, closing the door behind him. I hear the soft snick of the lock, peeking up at him in question as he moves deeper into the room.

“I figured we needed to talk,” he explains as he settles into the chair on the other side of my desk. “I can tell you were ruffled after we let out today.”

“I’m not…ruffled,” I protest.

Ezra just laughs. “You forget that for the first few months that I knew you, all I ever saw was ruffled Dani. I’m definitely an expert on what she looks like.”

“It’s nothing,” I try, not deigning to look at him in favor of the document in front of me. “I just had a lot to go over and forgot to text you back.”

“No, you didn’t,” he pushes calmly. “None of this is going to work if you aren’t honest with me, Dani.”

“It’s stupid,” I sigh, leaning back in my chair to pinch the bridge of my nose. “Seriously, it sounds ridiculous even in my head.”

“I doubt that. Just talk to me.”

“I just…it’s so hard watching you defend him.”

Ezra arches a brow. “Lorenzo?”

“I know, I know. It’s your job. You have to. I know that you have to play the cards you’re dealt, just like the rest of us, but…” I shake my head. “He’s such a bastard.”

Ezra frowns, looking down at his laced fingers resting in his lap. “We knew this wasn’t going to be easy,” he starts. “But it’s just a job, Dani. You know that.”

“I know that, I do,” I assure him. “I just…I’ve gotten to know Bianca. She’s…she’s been through so much. I feel like I’m failing her sometimes.”

This is a dangerous conversation, one that we’ve carefully avoided the last few weeks. Both of us know that discussing our clients is tricky territory. I don’t even know why I’ve admitted any of this to begin with.

“Listen,” he says finally. “Things will be better when this is over. We do this job to the best of both of our abilities, and then after…maybe we disclose. We can avoid being on opposite sides going forward.”

I suck in a breath. “Disclose?”

“You don’t want to?”

“I…” I swallow. “I didn’t know you would. Alexander…”

“Alexander has done a great job of ruining my life for the last thirty-four years,” Ezra says, his voice hard. “I won’t be letting him do that with you.”

I frown. “And your mother? What if he disapproves? Will she suffer?”

“I…” There’s a flash of pain in his eyes, and I know he’s considered it. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe…maybe we could work together on her case,” I offer. “Maybe we can find something you overlooked.”

His eyes search mine for several seconds, softening. “You’d do that?”

“Of course I would. I hate that he uses her against you.”

Another long moment passes with him studying me, and I’m half-desperate to know what he’s thinking. After a long while, a small smile forms on his face, and he gives me a slow nod. “I’d like that.”

“I’m sorry I was weird today,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “We’re going to have weird days. It’s a weird situation we’re in.”

“It is,” I agree.

He pushes up out of his seat, circling my desk in a predatory way until he’s turning my chair toward him, resting his hands on the arms on either side of me. “Worth it though,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He dips his head, and I push up to meet him, closing my eyes at the feel of his mouth against mine.

It’s crazy that in a matter of weeks, I seem to have lost all will to resist this.

Truthfully, after the strange melancholy I’ve been in for the last few hours, Ezra’s easy kisses and warm touch are a welcome distraction.

“Stand up,” he bids softly. “I want to try something.”

I let him coax me out of my chair with strong hands at my waist, not even pretending to protest when he turns me and pushes me back against my desk. His palms shove at the hem of my skirt, pushing it higher until they can cup the back of my thighs as he urges me to sit on top of the desk.

“I have been thinking about you on this desk since the last time I had you here,” he admits.

“You were entirely too cocky,” I snort.

I feel his smile against my throat, where he’s buried his face, his hands teasing the lace-covered edges of my thigh-highs. “I just knew what I wanted.”

“You…” I bite my lip, my lashes fluttering when I feel his fingertips teasing the silky material of my underwear at my hips. “You said I was yours.”

His lips trail kisses up my neck, lingering below my jaw. “Aren’t you?”

“I…”

“Because I want you to be,” he confesses, his warm breath puffing against my ear before his mouth traces along my jaw. “I think I did even then.”

“Ezra,” I manage shakily.

“Do you remember what I said about these skirts you wear?” He’s inching the fabric of said skirt up higher now, cool air licking at my thighs with every revealed bit of skin. “Do you remember what I said they made me want to do to you?”

“I remember,” I whimper, actually whimper .

“Do you want that?” He kisses the corner of my mouth gently, speaking directly against my lips. “Tell me what you want.”

There’s still that tiny sliver of resistance, a small streak of stubborn defiance toward giving in to him, but I tamp it down. I’ve realized in the last few weeks that giving in to Ezra is not a concession. It’s a revelation.

“I want you,” I tell him, because it’s the truth, and I’m long past tired of pretending it isn’t. “Just like you said.”

He grins against my mouth. “Here? Right here?”

“Shut up and touch me, asshole.”

He rumbles out a laugh. “Since you asked so nicely.”

I close my eyes when he kisses me, not because I can’t look at him, not anymore, but because sometimes kissing Ezra feels like too much.

The weight of his mouth is heavier than just a physical presence, it’s a consuming thing that I feel everywhere; it’s too much , kissing Ezra.

Part of me thinks it always has been. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been so afraid of it.

But I’m not now.

His tongue slides against mine in a slow caress, his hands rucking up my skirt until it’s gathered at my waist with decidedly more urgency.

He groans when his palms slide across the lace on my thighs, hovering there only for a moment before moving higher to hook his fingers into the elastic of my underwear.