“I believe you,” she said. “But trust me, I’m going to verify. I have investigators.”
“Good.”
“Good, then.”
They were past the pool table now, back into darkness, heading toward that couch. What was she doing? This was insane. Why the hell couldn’t she stop walking? Why couldn’t she take her hand away?
“I have one rule, Cate,” Soren said.
“Just one?” she breathed. That was almost disappointing.
She saw those teeth flash again. “One big rule. I make up the others as I go along.”
“What is it?”
“I told you. Total honesty. Nonnegotiable. That’s my hard limit. You know what that is?”
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. ‘Hard limit’ was official BDSM speak. They were really talking about this.
“And in return,” Soren said, holding her gaze, “I make sure you can tell me anything and be safe. Deal?”
Cate swallowed. That was…that was asking a lot. Revealing that much of herself—that was not something she’d ever done before. Ever. That was something she wasn’t sure she knew
how
to do. Something that seemed so easy for other people, so natural, something she envied so much.
And this was her shot.
“Deal,” she said, before she could talk herself out of it. “I think. I haven’t…I don’t know.”
She didn’t know how to finish. Soren just smiled, gently this time.
“You have a history of abuse?” he said. “Someone hurt you?”
Cate felt hot, felt nauseous, felt small and barely able to speak. She’d never said it out loud before, not really.
“Yes,” she said softly.
“Me, too,” he said.
“I know.”
This time Soren laughed, a soft, deep rumble. “Of course you do,” he said.
Oh, holy shit.
Cate’s mind spun at approximately ninety miles per hour while the phrase “total honesty” flew around her head like a piece of shrapnel. Total honesty—that would mean telling him about Jason, right? Did it have to? Every thought of Jason, every reminder that she was still married to him, every day she had to worry about what he would do next, made her feel weaker. Made the division she kept between her private life and her professional life harder to maintain, made the mask of competence and confidence that she wore feel more brittle, more fragile. Every day she was afraid it would crack and she’d be revealed as the kind of woman who allowed
herself
to be abused.
As a fraud.
As someone no one would respect. As the most real, honest,
ugliest
version of herself.
And god
dammit
, she didn’t want to be that person anymore. She couldn’t tell Soren, she couldn’t tell
anyone
; she was pretty sure she couldn’t physically do it. The idea was just too humiliating. She didn’t want to be that person with Soren. Soren, who might be the only person she’d trust to understand that. To understand why she’d need to be this new version of herself, this woman who could do something like submit?
Soren, who couldn’t cheat on her.
Who wouldn’t ask anything more of
her.
And who needed her to be his freaking lawyer.
Cate felt paralyzed while the different versions of
herself
fought it out, merged, split apart, crashed back together again. Which was just as well—they’d reached the very back of the room. Soren sat down on the arm of the couch and studied her.
He smiled.
“Ford was very careful to mention that you werenion you wert officially my lawyer until I signed a retainer agreement,” he said.
Cate licked her lips. She was standing right in front of
him,
his legs spread slightly, knees on either side of her. He still had her hand.
“I brought it with me,” she said.
“What happens if I’ve had you before you become my lawyer?”
Cate laughed slightly. “No rule against that,” she said. “Pre-existing relationship.”
“Interesting.”
Cate closed her eyes briefly, opened them again, just to find those ice-blue eyes still staring at her. She felt like she couldn’t get enough air. She felt like she was going to explode.
“If you’ve ‘had’ me?” she asked with a smile.
Soren laughed again, that low, rumbling sound. “You’ll know when it happens.”
Chills. She got actual chills.
Something changed.
Suddenly Cate became very aware that they were not entirely alone. It was just
them
in this part of the club, this little side wing of the first floor of what she was just now realizing was actually a huge, multi-story building. But there were people at the bar behind her, just a few. She could hear them now, suddenly, out of nowhere, loud and intrusive and very much within earshot.
Soren pulled on her, brought her another step closer.
“You need both, Cate,” he said. “You need to submit, you need the case. I need both too.”
“You do?” she said. She sounded all breathy. It was weird.
“Fuck yes, I do,” he said.
God, how did he do it? How did he sit there, this stack of hard muscle leaning back against the wall, his long legs now on either side of her, looking coiled and relaxed all at
once.
Like he was ready to pounce, and completely sure of the outcome when he did.
Infuriating and still hot as hell.
He breathed deep, his chest rising, and exhaled slowly. And he brought her another step forward. “Tell me why you’re scared,” he said.
Cate laughed, a thin sound, like she couldn’t believe it wasn’t obvious. But it wouldn’t be obvious, would it? So why did she think he’d understand?
And yet…
“I don’t know if I can be…
this
, and Cate Kennedy at the same time,” she said, hating how it sounded. “And I know you need a lawyer, you need me as a lawyer, and—”
p> span>
“They’re the same person,” he interrupted.
Cate shook her head, trying to remember words while feeling the heat of his thigh against her leg, the pad of his thumb brushing the back of her hand. Words. There were words for this.
Only there weren’t, really, because she knew it didn’t make sense, it wouldn’t make sense to anyone but her. It didn’t even make sense to her, strictly speaking, it just was, and it was something she had to live with, and…
Oh, goddammit, you are NOT going to cry.
“Cate,” Soren said, his voice cutting through the nonsense ricocheting around her head. “Look at me. I’ll show you.”
She looked at him. She couldn’t look anywhere else. He would show her?
“Ok?” he said.
Dumbly, she nodded. “Ok,” she said.
With a satisfied growl he pulled her to him, pushing one leg between hers. Cate fell forward, her hands planted on his chest, his thigh pressed between her legs. Her mouth fell open in surprise.
Then she felt his hands on her hips.
Felt him pulling her up his leg until she straddled him. Felt him raise his thigh between her legs.
Heard
herself
gasp.
“Look at me,” he said.
God, that face. Chiseled, unyielding, intense.
The eyes unwavering, piercing, mesmerizing.
And now his hands, those big hands wrapping around her hips, his fingers tugging the hem of her skirt higher and higher.
Cate’s breaths came faster and faster, the sounds of the people at the bar got louder and louder.
“What are you doing?” she said.
He didn’t answer her. Just smiled slightly. Like he wouldn’t answer questions she already knew the answer to.
Then he bucked his leg.
“Jesus,” she heard herself moan. She dug her fingers into his chest and bit her lip, embarrassed. He’d positioned her so her full weight rested on his thigh between her legs and somehow put pressure right where it counted, and the sensation had arced through her like lightning. She couldn’t believe it. He could make her moan just by…
“Oh God,” she said.
His other hand was roving.
Inside her tailored jacket, up hrt jacket,er side, over her breast. Not even a little bit shy. Her eyes widened and she looked at him, not totally sure what she was supposed to do, to say. This was a ridiculous situation. He was her client, a rock star, a stranger, and his hand was pulling down the neck of her top, her bra,
his
thumb finding her nipple.
“Fuck, Soren,” she panted. “There are people…right…over there.”
His grin was positively evil.
“There sure are,” he said. “Which makes what you’re about to do so much hotter.”
“What I’m about to—”
Soren didn’t let her finish. He took a fistful of her hair in his hand, pulled her down onto his chest, and claimed her mouth with his own.
Cate melted.
His lips were surprisingly soft and the bristle on his jaw just rough enough, and damn, did the man know how to use his tongue. The warmth, the wetness, the perfect pressure,
the
way he licked her top lip and then sucked on the bottom one—all of it left her in a daze. So much so that when he finally pulled back, his eyes shining, it took her a second to realize she was squeezing her thighs around his leg, her panties damp, her breast nearly popped out, her hair disheveled.
Good God.
“That was pretty hot,” she said.
He said, “That’s not what you’re gonna do.”
And then he raised his leg again, his hands pressing down on her hips, driving her into him, and Cate moaned. She couldn’t help it, it just happened, the feeling…how was he doing this? The angle just right to apply a kind of pressure she hadn’t felt before.
“Jesus, Soren…”
His hand moved around her hip, found its way under her skirt, which was hiked all the way up her leg. His thumb pressed down just above her clit and she fell forward, her hair falling over his face, her fingers grabbing his shirt and twisting.
“Oh my God,” she breathed.
“You’re
gonna
ride me,” he said. “And you’re not gonna come ’til I say you can.”
Cate’s mouth fell open, her eyes wide and unseeing, her fingers knotted up in his shirt. He couldn’t be serious. He
was
serious. All sensation in her body was centered now in her core, just above where her body made contact with his leg, just where she felt tight and tense and needy every time she thought about Soren, and all of it screamed for release. Like this tight, coiled, ball of need, of want, of frustration, of being so close, so close to finally feeling free, to finally having…
“
Move
,” he ordered.
size="+1">“Oh my fucking God,” Cate whispered.
Because her hips were moving.
Without thinking, without knowing, without…they were moving. Because when she moved she felt his leg against her entrance, his thumb pressing down just above her clit, and it felt like nothing she’d ever had before. The
pressure
, the right kind of pressure, sending her up, higher and higher, and Jesus H. Christ, but she was riding his leg while he sat there and watched.