Confessions of a Litigation God: A Legal Affairs Full Length Erotic Novel (24 page)

I don’t like
it, but I respect it.

Big difference.

But no, the biggest
screw up was in eating her out versus talking to her. And if I were
really a man… one that could meet my problems head on, I could
have just been fucking honest with her and said, “Mac…
I’ve been hurt badly in the past, and I have these barriers up
to protect myself. I just can’t let them down.”

But no…
again… Biggest. Dumbass. History. World.

This week has been
fucking miserable… staying away from Mac. It’s not just
the sex, although that is a large part of it. You remember when I
told you things like Hottest. Woman. Ever and Best. Sex. Ever.

Was not kidding
about that shit.

But fuck, I miss her
wit, her humor, her kindness. I miss the green of her eyes and the
softness of her skin.

I miss pouring
myself into her and whispering her name like she’s a deity to
be worshipped.

None of that matters
though, because I am a man. I am stubborn and when I draw my line in
the sand, I stick by it.

So I’ve stayed
away from Mac this week. I told myself that every day that goes by
that I don’t have her, it will be a little easier. I’ll
stop missing her so much. I’ll stop worrying about blue balls
and only ever having an orgasm by jacking off. Every day I go without
her, I’ll appreciate other things in life more, and eventually…
I’ll get back on that horse again. Eventually, I’ll have
an urge to use
One Night Only
again.

Eventually.

Oh, who the fuck am
I kidding. Every day that goes by the longing and desire for her gets
worse. It’s like thirst… you never get used to that
wretched pain. It becomes more consuming as every minute ticks by.

So I’m in pain
and I haven’t seen her all week because she’s staying
far, far away from me. It’s to the point now that I have to
make up a stupid excuse just to spend some time with her.

I’m not proud,
but I am devious.

Standing up from my
desk, I grab a file and walk down to Mac’s office. She’s
sitting in her chair, leaning back with those sexy, black heels
propped on her desk, reading what looks to be some legal research. It
makes the black skirt she’s wearing ride just a little higher
than her knee, but it’s the most I’ve seen of Mac in
several days, so I’ll take it.

When she sees me,
she jolts upright in surprise, pulling her feet off her desk. “What
are you doing here?”

I give her a lazy
smile. “I work here. Actually, I own the place.”

She blushes and then
gives me a small smile back, which I’m grateful for. I wasn’t
sure if she’d throw the stapler at my head when I walked in.

Stepping in a few
steps, I hand the file to her. She takes it, curiosity written all
over her face. “What’s this?”

“It’s a
case I need you to argue the Motion to Compel,” I tell her
simply.

“Okay,”
she says a little hesitantly, because this will be her first court
appearance. “Not a problem. When is it?”

I glance down at my
watch. “In about half an hour.”

I wait for her to
erupt. To throw the file at me and call me a douche bag. To tell me
to go fuck myself. Any of those reactions would be appropriate. It’s
sort of what I’m hoping for, because a heated conversation will
probably get us talking about the real elephant in the room. Besides,
I’m hoping there will be an opportunity where Mac will be
raging at me so hard, I’ll be able to kiss her to shut her up.

None of that
happens, though. She just narrows her eyes at me and grits out. “Half
an hour?”

Shrugging my
shoulders like it’s not a big deal, I say, “Yup. But you
shouldn’t worry about it. It’s a slam-dunk motion. No way
can you lose it, because the law and the facts are in your favor.”

“Then why is
it even being argued?” she asks with confusion.

She should be
confused, because I have no idea why either, other than the fact
opposing counsel is a lazy son of a bitch and doesn’t like to
work.

“The
supporting civil procedure rule is in the file, along with
appropriate case law. Read it and you’ll be ready.”

She opens the file
and starts perusing the contents, so I take a moment just to watch
her. The way her hair is tied up in a loose bun on her head, her
delicate ears that I know are extremely sensitive, the way she’s
tapping her foot nervously on the floor right now.

She looks up at me
with an apprehensive look on her face and before she can even say
anything… voice a single fear, I rush in to save her. “Mac…
you don’t have to worry. It’s a piece of cake, and I’ll
be by your side.”

Blinking hard at me,
she closes the file and sets it on her desk. “You’re
coming with me?”

“Yes. I’ll
be there in case you get in any trouble.”

“Then why
don’t you just argue it yourself?” she asks…
innocently I might add.

Oh, Mac, Mac, Mac.
Don’t you see… don’t you get that this five
minutes that I’ve been standing here talking to you have been
the best five minutes of my week?

Of course you don’t,
because I would never tell you that. It smacks of vulnerability and
that is not a word that is ever used in conjunction with Matt
Connover.

I don’t answer
Mac directly. Instead, I just say, “Be ready to leave in half
an hour.”

After I leave her
office, I head into the kitchen, have a leisurely cup of coffee, and
mull over how to expand on this very fragile, but open door of
communication I have with Mac right now. It will have to be subtle…
gently reel her in so to speak. If I can get her to let go of her
anger and unreasonable expectations, I’m sure we can find a way
to go back to the way we were. We could forget about the bond that
was built in Nashville and be mutually satisfied with a physical
relationship.

I continue to think
about my conundrum and when the half hour is up, I walk down to Mac’s
office to get her. Our office is only four blocks from the courthouse
so while we walk over there, I tell Mac to give me her argument.

She’s nervous,
and we’re walking on a busy sidewalk, so she starts a little
shaky. But by the time we make it to the courthouse doors, I know she
understands the facts of the case plus the law that applies. As long
as she doesn’t freeze and just stare blankly at the judge,
she’ll win this motion.

We sit in the second
row of the courtroom gallery, listening as the clerk calls the
docket. Then we wait throughout the boring process of listening to
everyone else argue their motions until ours is reached. I think
about using the opportunity to fantasize about me putting my hand on
Mac’s knee and pushing my way up her leg.

Right under her
skirt until I could finger the wet silk of her panties.

Okay… need to
stop right now. That will give me a raging hard-on that I don’t
wish to share with the rest of the courtroom.

Finally, our case is
called and I walk up to counsel table with Mac. When we sit down, she
takes the file and opens it, straightening the papers inside in a
nervous gesture. I notice that her hands are shaking.

Leaning over, I
whisper in her ear with quiet confidence. “You got this, Mac.
Piece of cake.”

She turns and looks
at me with those beautiful, fern-green eyes, which are anxious. I
stare at her hard, so she knows the truth of my words. I watch as the
fear lessens and confidence builds up. I nod at her and give her a
smile before turning away.

When Judge Stanback
says, “Miss Dawson… are you ready to proceed for the
plaintiff?” Mac only flinches slightly before standing and
saying in a clear voice, “Yes, Your Honor.”

“Then you may
proceed,” the judge says as he leans back in his chair to
listen to her.

“Thank you,
Your Honor,” Mac says while placing her hands on the edge of
the table. “This is a Motion to Compel brought by the plaintiff
because of the defendant’s failure to produce discovery items
we had requested on…”

I tune Mac out. I
could tell in the first three words that she had this. Instead, I
watch the judge to see what his reaction is to her. He hears hundreds
of motions to compel every year. They are boring, fact driven, and he
would have every right to tune her out as well. Instead, I find Judge
Stanback to be interested in what Mac is saying as evidenced by the
way he has pulled his glasses off his face and chews thoughtfully on
one of the arms.

My gaze slides over
to Mac’s opponent. He’s a lawyer that’s been around
the block a time or two, and I’m surprised we’re here
arguing this. It’s a simple matter of turning over documents to
us—medical records to be exact—that we’re entitled
to. This guy hasn’t proven to be lazy in the past, so I do
wonder if perhaps there is something damaging in there he’s
hiding.

At any rate, he has
a bored look on his face because he knows he’s going to lose
this motion. Instead, I note with growing anger that he has his eyes
pinned to Mac’s breasts while she argues.

Fuckwad.

I turn my gaze away
because otherwise, I’m just going to go apeshit in my head
since there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.

Mac finally
concludes her argument, “Your Honor, the facts are clear, as
well as the case law. Therefore, we ask that you find in favor of the
plaintiff and grant our Motion to Compel.”

Mac sits down beside
me, and I can practically feel the adrenaline mixed with giddiness
pulsing off her. I remember feeling like that myself after my first
court appearance. I turn and give her a smile, mouthing the words,
“Great job.”

She returns my
smile.

God, I miss that
smile.

***

Mac and I parted
ways in the courthouse, as I had to see another judge in chambers
about another case. By the time I got done with that, made it back to
the office, and returned a few calls, I realized it was almost time
to go home.

I log off my
computer and head out, deciding to take a turn by Mac’s office.
I have no agenda, no clue what to say, but at the very least, maybe I
can get another smile.

Her door is closed
but I can see her light is on, so I give a light rap before opening.
Mac looks up at me, her eyes at first curious as to her visitor and
then once she realizes it’s me, I see a bit of wistfulness
there.

Desire.

Hope.

I can’t do
anything about the hope, but I think I can address the desire.

“Can I come
in?”

“Sure,”
she says, but I’m already walking in and closing the door
behind me.

I walk right up to
her and as I get nearer, her eyes go round with surprise. Reaching
down, I skim my fingers along the side of her neck, curling them
around her neck. With just a small bit of pressure, I pull her upward
and she stands from the chair.

My entire body goes
tight with anticipation, lust, and adrenaline. My senses are
overwhelmed by her nearness, her scent, the way her breath just
hitched. I can’t fucking help myself when I bend my head and
nuzzle her neck, lightly skimming my lips over her soft skin, causing
her to sigh.

“I’m
coming home with you tonight, Mac.” I feel raw and edgy…
my voice heavy with aching need.

Mac’s breath
comes out in a rush and her body seems to fall into mine until her
breasts are mashed up against me. I go hard as a rock… just
like that.

I need my mouth on
hers so I pull away from her neck, but that gives Mac an opportunity
to bring her hands up and she pushes against my chest. She keeps
pushing until I am forced to step away from her.

“No,”
she says with conviction, even though her voice is shaky. “You’re
not.”

My body is not ready
to process her rejection. My cock wants inside of her so bad that I
start to envision pushing her to the floor and burying my face
between her legs, just like I did last time we were together, so she
would have to acknowledge that we still very much want each other.

But the look on her
face stops me. It tells me,
Not gonna happen
.

Anger rises up
inside of me at being denied, not just because my body is craving
her, but because it fucking hurts to get rejected. “I don’t
get it. You want me, and I want you. Why are you being this way?”

“I do want
you,” she says softly. “I want you a lot. But I want more
than just sex. I need more than just sex.”

I just blink at her,
hearing what she’s saying… but not really. I’m not
comprehending at all. I don’t want to comprehend, but I find
myself asking, “What more do you need?”

“I want a
relationship. Dating, conversation, shared secrets. I want it all,
Matt. I deserve it all.”

A myriad of emotions
rage through me. My common sense immediately denies her request, and
my walls stay firmly in place. Part of me though… part of me
says,
Go for it. Try it.

That part, however,
is quickly drowned out with a thousand voices of reason telling me
that I’m destined for hurt. That my life has been pretty
fucking fantastic the last few years by subsisting on nothing but
one-night stands. It’s not a bad life to go back to.

Shaking my head
slowly, I say, “I don’t have that to give.”

“Yeah, you
do,” she says tenderly, her eyes seeming to look deep into my
soul, like she sees something there that I don’t even know
exists. “You showed me you do in Nashville. You have a lot to
give.”

She reaches a hand
out toward me and, for a split second, I think about taking it. Then
I’m backing away, locking the walls in place. I make a
last-ditch effort to make sure that there’s not some other
factor that I may be overlooking… that may be causing her to
be stubborn about this. Again, I can’t understand why she’s
turning her nose up at something that is so amazing between us.

But then, a thought
strikes me. “Are you seeing someone?”