I come apart against him, gasping and struggling for air as he holds me taut.
He holds me still and stiffens, and we remain entwined for what feels like hours.
“So…” I whisper. “This means we’re talking again?”
“We’re not talking about anything for the rest of the night.” He kisses me. “Get off my cock and then get on your knees…”
CONFESSION (N.):
THE STATEMENT OF ONE CHARGED WITH A CRIME THAT HE/SHE COMMITTED THE CRIME.
JAMESON
Iwake up under a bright pink banner that reads “To Be Or Not to Be.” There are pictures of Scarlett tacked on the wall to my left, and it takes me far too many seconds to realize I spent the night at her place.
In her goddamn dorm room...
Our clothes are strewn all over her floor, and the top of her trash can is filled with foil packets—clear-cut evidence of just how many times we failed to stick to “one more time...”
Slowly sitting up, I rub my temples and let out a deep sigh.
If I possessed any sense, I would get dressed, leave her a “thanks for a good time” note, and block her from my phone and my firm for the rest of my life.
Keyword: If...
I stand up from the bed, and Scarlett immediately rolls over.
“You’re leaving me?” she whispers, and I know that she’s implying two things with that question.
I stare at her, unsure of what the hell I’m supposed to say, where the hell we’re supposed to go after this.
“We don’t have to talk about this right now,” I say.
“Ever or just right now?”
“Both...”
“So, you’re gone for good?” she presses. “You could at least tell me that.”
“No. I’m not.” I push strands of hair away from her forehead and stare into her eyes.
Before I can ask her what her plans are for today, my cell phone vibrates against her desk.
“Give me a second,” I say, walking over to answer the unknown number.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mr. Tate,” the voice belongs to R.L., one of my biggest and most complicated clients. And it instantly reminds me of what I’m supposed to be doing, what I’m supposed to be focused on.
“Am I catching you at a bad time this morning?” he asks.
“I’m shocked you even asked,” I say, stepping back toward Scarlett’s mirror. “You don’t usually care about anyone but yourself.”
“That’s fair,” he says. “Are you still undefeated in court these days?”
“You wouldn’t be calling me if I wasn’t.”
“So, there’s no need for small talk.” He lets out a small laugh. “Some of my team members have unfortunately found themselves in some small trouble lately, and I need your help.”