Dear Jane Read online

  Holy shit. She’d been totally right that first day about him being full of surprises. Jane held on for dear life as he ran his lips down her neck and between her breasts, kissing as he went. “What about…” Her brain shut off as he took a nipple in his mouth and spikes of heat shot from where he worked his tongue in a slow, deliberate circle, to low in her belly.

  He stopped long enough to say, “What about what?” before moving to the other breast.

  “Uh.” Her head fell back and she shifted in his lap, which elicited a gratifying groan from deep in his throat. “What about the non…” Another groan from him kicked her adrenaline even higher. “Non-fraternization clause?”

  God, his hands felt good. His tongue felt good. Everything about him felt good.

  He stopped and her body screamed in protest when he straightened to look her in the eye.

  “As your attorney, I represent you in this”—he gestured back and forth between them—“matter. There is strict client/attorney privilege. Nothing that occurs between us will leave this room. For the sake of both of our jobs, I suggest you adopt the same policy with regard to our current situation.” He winked and her heart skipped a beat.

  Raising her right hand as if swearing in, she placed her left on his chest. “I solemnly swear that what happens on Jane’s sofa, stays on Jane’s sofa.”

  “What about him?” He hitched a thumb at Gandy, who was licking his paw near his tower.

  “He’s been sworn to secrecy under penalty of dry food for the rest of his life.”

  He nodded in approval, and she marveled at the turn of events. This was the most fun she’d ever had with a man—and they’d only kissed and done a little groping. Reckless as it was, not only with respect to her job but to their friendship as well, she wanted more. Much more. She wanted Eric Blackwell to make love to her and make her forget her clients with their failed relationships, and her family with their unrealistic expectations. She wanted to forget about her own misery with her job and her dating life, and with herself. But mostly, she wanted him.

  Maybe Kim Zimmerman was right. Maybe from now on she should make all her decisions with her heart. She’d used her head and education and that hadn’t worked. This worked. This man. Right here. Right now.

  She grabbed his tie and pulled him back in for another round of kisses. Every now and then, he’d laugh and she’d laugh right along with him. She couldn’t help it. She was having so much fun. The best time of her life.

  More. She needed more of this man. Less clothes. More skin. More Eric. She rearranged to where she straddled him, and he groaned. She loved the noises he made. They made her forget how professionally inappropriate getting intimate with him was—or maybe those sexy noises just made her not care. Not care she was his boss’s daughter. Not care that he was a co-worker. Not care that he was her taboo: a lawyer.

  After another long, passionate kiss, she reached between them and yanked on the bottom of his shirt to free it from his pants. Somehow, in the process, she kicked the bottom of the coffee table, launching both beer bottles like rockets in a perfect trajectory for the couch.

  Everything moved in slow motion for a minute as she frantically reached out to intercept one of the bottles before it hit the sofa, but instead of making a save, she knocked it up in the air again, where it rotated and splattered both of them with beer, landing in his lap between them. The other bottle landed benignly, somewhere on the floor, along with her pride.

  Shit, shit, shit. She did it every time.

  Hand over mouth, she stumbled to her feet. “I’m so sorry, Eric. Really.”

  The look on his face was unreadable. It was stuck somewhere between surprise and horror.

  In a panic, she looked around for a blanket or something to sop up the mess, but settled for a throw pillow, using it like a sponge to soak up the beer on his chest and lap. Why, why, why did she always do something that messed everything up. She thought she’d finally found someone she was comfortable enough with to not commit this kind of nonsense. Obviously not.

  And then, Eric Blackwell did the most remarkable thing.

  He laughed.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Eric laughed so hard, his stomach hurt. The look of horror on Jane’s face when that bottle landed in his lap was epic…and adorable. And then the sponge routine with the fluffy pillow: too cute.

  “There are better ways to cool things down,” he said, catching his breath.

  She sat facing him on the coffee table, covered her face, and groaned. “That wasn’t my intention at all.”

  He stood and pulled her to her feet in front of him. “Good, because it didn’t work.” He gestured to the erection tenting his beer-soaked pants. “I offer into evidence, Exhibit A.”

  “No objection,” she said with a smile.

  Palm on her shoulder, he guided her to lie back on the sofa, then sat on the edge, skimming his fingers over her smooth, beer-splattered skin. He traced up her body to the hollow of her throat, which moved when she swallowed. Her pupils had expanded, her blue irises reduced to narrow rings. He’d dreamed this. Fantasized it as she’d walked down the hallway, oblivious he even existed. And now, here he was, living that dream. “Moving too fast?”

  She laughed. “Are you kidding? We’ve been having foreplay for a month now, and I didn’t even realize it.”

  “I did.” He drew his fingers back down, between her breasts and over her bra clasp, which would only be serving its intended function a few more minutes, across her abdomen to her jeans. When he popped the button, she gasped, and he got even harder.

  She reached up and ran her hands over his chest. “Your shirt’s wet.”

  He leaned down and pressed his lips to her ear. “I’ll lay odds your panties are wet.”

  She said in mock horror, “Oh my God. Who are you? What have you done with attorney Eric Blackwell?”

  “Eric Blackwell needed a recess.”

  “He also needs to take his shirt off.” She fumbled and eventually removed his tie. He sat patiently as she undid his dress shirt buttons, then stripped off his shirt. “Damn.” She ran her hands over his chest and down over his abs. He knew what she saw. He’d worked hard on his body. Other than movie night with Jane, it was the one indulgence he allowed outside of work: a quick, intense workout every day before work. It kept him sane. Watching her as she explored him, though, was an added benefit.

  “Who knew,” she said, “that diligent, hard-working, quiet, Eric Blackwell, Esquire, was a hot, sexy man.”

  “You knew,” he challenged.

  She ran her thumb over his lips. “What other secrets do you have?”

  He trapped her wrist and sucked her thumb into his mouth, circling it with his tongue until she moaned and he released her. “I have a thing for crossword puzzles.” He pushed her back down to her back on the sofa. “And chocolate chip ice cream.” He ran his hands up her ribs. And you, he thought as he undid the clasp on the front of her bra. I have a serious thing for you, Jane Dixon.

  …

  I am so screwed, Jane thought as Eric unsnapped her bra and placed his warm palms over her breasts. Her crush was morphing into something else entirely every minute she spent with him. He was fun. Flat-out fun. And a wicked-smart lawyer—which was the problem.

  He scooted back on the sofa and leaned down, his warm breath fanning over her chest. Suddenly, the lawyer problem took a back seat to the heat roaring through her body, coalescing between her legs. She cried out when he touched his tongue to her nipple, then moaned as his lips met her flesh, his tongue making hot, slow circles.

  She sank her fingers into his hair, pulling him even closer, encouraging him to take her deeper in his mouth. The man had some serious skills, so serious, she was pretty sure she could come just from this. Well, the fact it had been so long probably played into it, too, but before that could happen, he sat up and then stood, holding out a hand to help her to her feet. Her head spun from the excitement and sudden change of position.

/>   “May I?” he asked, running his fingers inside the waistline of her jeans.

  Afraid she would only squeak or say something embarrassing, she nodded, and he unzipped her jeans and pulled them down. She stepped out, wearing only her purple lace panties.

  “So pretty,” he said, running the tip of his forefinger over the lace on her hipbone. “Were you wearing these under your suit today?”

  She shook her head. She’d changed when she got home.

  He met her gaze directly. “Did you put them on for me?”

  Not waiting for an answer, he kissed her, fingers still toying with the purple lace. Of course she had. She wasn’t sure what to expect tonight, but she’d hoped, deep inside, that something like this would happen.

  “Counselor,” she said, pulling her mouth from his. “There is a great disparity in our states of undress. I appear to be at a significant disadvantage.”

  He chuckled. “Allow me to remedy that, posthaste.”

  And in no time, he’d shed his shoes, socks, suit pants, and boxers, all piled unceremoniously on the floor in a heap, leaving him gloriously naked and obviously pleased with that state.

  Jane didn’t even try to hide the fact she was ogling him. Unabashed, she checked him out from head to toe and it didn’t seem to bother him one bit. Eric Blackwell was beautiful. No doubt about it. Hidden under that business suit were a muscular chest, ridged abdomen, a narrow waist, and an erection that made her mouth water. The man’s body was a total lotto jackpot, and at that moment, she was holding the winning ticket.

  She crossed to him and wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close, loving the feel of his naked skin against hers.

  “Jane…” he whispered into her hair.

  “Yes.”

  It was only one tiny three-letter word, but it might as well have been a complete manifesto. From the moment she said it, the tone changed. It went from carefree and playful to something far more driven and intense. Something meaningful.

  He moved the coffee table a few feet into the room, then guided her to sit on the sofa. He hooked his fingers in the sides of her panties and pulled them off, dropping to his knees in front of her, next to his pile of discarded clothes. Every muscle in her body tensed as she waited to see what he would do.

  His hands were warm and firm as he trailed them up the insides of her thighs, urging them farther apart. He gently ran his thumbs over her center, and she bucked. The edges of his lips curled and he did it again, this time with more purpose, and it felt like electricity shot from his fingers into her body. Parting her, he ran his tongue where his thumbs had been, stopping and circling her most sensitive spot. Holy crap. Nothing had ever felt this good. Her head swam as her body hummed with electricity. She cried his name, and he circled faster, placing his mouth over her and taking her right to the edge.

  It had been so long. So, so long since she’d found release with someone. And it had never been like this. Effortless and natural. No pretense. No worries he wasn’t into it. She had no doubt he was enjoying himself as he moaned and his tongue stroked her in a steady rhythm, hands roving up to her breasts.

  She buried her fingers in his hair, urging him on as the tension built in her body. A sharp tweak of her nipples was all it took to send her there. Soaring, humming ecstasy rolled through her in wave after wave, her fingers digging into his hair as she screamed his name.

  She didn’t have a clue how long it went on or how long she sat, arm over her eyes on the sofa as she came down from the most intense orgasm she’d ever had. Maybe it was the timing, or the fact it had been so long, or maybe it was her lack of self-consciousness with this man who made her laugh and had so many surprises up his sleeve…

  Only he wasn’t wearing sleeves. He was completely naked on his knees between her legs. She dropped her arm and stared into his rich, brown eyes.

  “Better?” The cocky smile on his face let her know the answer was as obvious to him as it was to her.

  She grinned and sat up enough to touch him. He sucked in air through his teeth when she ran her hands down his abs, then exhaled in a puff as her fingers explored his erection.

  “Yeah, I’m better,” she said. “But I could be even better.”

  “I’m all ears.”

  She circled the head of his penis with her forefinger. “No, you’re not.”

  He closed his eyes for a moment, breathing through his nose, as if summoning control—but she didn’t want him in control. She wanted him full-out crazy with lust, like she’d been only a short while ago. So, she scooted back farther and, leaning down, she replaced her finger with her tongue, circling him, then drawing him into her mouth.

  “Holy…ah, God, Jane.” His body shuddered when she pulled back and then took him in deep again. “I want…” He put his hands on her shoulders, stopping her before she did it again. “I want…” He gave a frustrated huff, like he couldn’t find words—or was hesitant to say them.

  “What?” She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him to her, legs wrapped around him, his hardness fitting perfectly against her. They both groaned and she dropped her head back against the sofa cushion.

  He thrust slightly, and the hard ridge of him slid through her wetness, making her body tighten all over again. “That,” he said. “You. I want you. To make love to you like I’ve dreamed of for almost two years.”

  Holy shit. How had she missed that? Better yet, how had she been missing out on that?

  Because she’d been leading with her head, not her heart.

  “Yes.” The word slipped out of her mouth as if of its own accord. Only this time when she said it, he smiled and her heart expanded to fill her chest. “I want you, too.”

  He made another long, purposeful glide forward and back. “I can’t believe I’m here. With you.”

  She tightened her legs around him. “Why?”

  Another grind, this time with more pressure, gliding across just the right spot to make her gasp. “I’ve been like that guy in the wheelchair in the movie. Stuck. Helpless to do anything but watch the world. To watch you walk by my door day after day. And I was too stuck in my own routine to break the pattern. To take a chance.”

  “I’m here. We’re here.”

  And then he kissed her—more like devoured her, and she loved it, running her hands across his pecs and ribs.

  “Need to be in you,” he rasped in her ear.

  “Yes.”

  Then he pulled away, and cold air swirled where his body had been, everything in her complaining at the lack of contact. He leaned down and pulled a wallet out of his pants on the floor.

  “You’d better not have a picture of your mom in there.”

  His smile was gorgeous. “In fact, I do not. Nor, do I have a ‘condom of questionable vintage.’” He held up a square packet. “I have a condom of known vintage. I bought it tonight on my way here. The rest of the box is in my jacket…just in case.” He winked.

  She draped her arms over the back of the sofa and arched an eyebrow. “So you planned this?”

  “No. Things like this can’t be planned.” He leaned forward and kissed her. It was a tender embrace, almost reverent. “I hoped.”

  If she hadn’t completely fallen for Eric before this moment, she certainly had now.

  …

  Still on his knees between her thighs, Eric pulled Jane to the edge of the sofa and stared for a moment at her beautiful body. From her high, firm breasts to the blonde curls where he was poised to enter her, she was a complete fantasy. He took himself in hand and rubbed against her opening and she writhed, spreading her legs even wider to receive him. The whole thing seemed like a dream, and he fought the urge to shake his head to clear it.

  “Please, Eric. Now.”

  Yes, now. Slowly, he held his breath and entered her, watching where they joined in near disbelief. Her breasts rose and fell with her quick pants, her body squeezing his. So good. So tight. Nothing had ever felt this good. Nothing had ever been this good.


  She moaned with pleasure, and he swallowed the lump in his throat.

  He drove in the rest of the way until he filled her completely and gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to thrust fast like his body demanded. She inhaled with a hiss as he pulled almost all the way out then began another slow thrust.

  This might be the only time, he warned himself. Slow. Make it last.

  But everything in him screamed go. And then Jane did, too, with a whimpered, “More.”

  And then he gave up holding back and moved, hard and fast. She grinned, and so did he. Then, he pulled out and did it again and again, gaining speed and thrusting harder each time until they both were sweaty and gasping for air. He reached down where their bodies joined to massage her. With the first circle of his thumb, she tightened around him and called out his name. After a few more circles, she closed her eyes and arched her back, nearly making him lose his mind at the mere sight. Then she screamed out and her body contracted around him in waves. He stared down, willing the image of her like this to imprint on his brain permanently. Even if she never allowed him to touch her again, he would remember this forever—her cries as she thrashed her head from side to side; the way she contracted around him, her legs locked behind his back; the way his name sounded as her orgasm grew. As much as he wanted to stay joined like this forever, his body won out, and with one final thrust, he lost himself completely, in mindless bliss that went on and on until he couldn’t move another muscle. Everything else in the world had faded away to the edges of his life, and there was only the two of them, sweaty and sated. Nothing else mattered. Not work. Not the promotion. Nothing but this woman.