Impulsive

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

K
atie Long wasn't sure how they'd gone from “would you like another drink” to crawling all over each other half-naked in the oceanfront estate's hall bathroom, but that's what happened. All that beautiful Hawaii sunshine just steps away, wrapped in the mixed scent of salt water and pikake, and there they were holed up in a single stall the size of a closet.

The knot on the apron dug into her waist as he lifted her out of her sensible black pumps and slid her butt onto the sink countertop. Before she could take another breath, he slipped between her legs. The soft material of his dark gray suit pants rubbed against her bare thighs. His hands never stopped moving, and his mouth caressed and covered hers like a pro.

Apparently Eric Kimura was good at something in addition to practicing law. Very good.

“Did you lock the door?” she asked, her voice breathless as her head fell back and his fingers slipped past her inner thigh.

“Mmm-hmmm.”

With his face buried between her breasts and his teeth nibbling at the tiny pearl buttons holding her blouse together, she could barely hear him. Didn't have to. The heat rolling off him said enough. This man was primed for action.

Sleek, handsome, and tan with straight black hair and a serious stare that had her knees buckling at the outside dining tables a few minutes before. Something about the sharp lines of his cheekbones and bottomless midnight of his eyes reeled her in. She usually leaned more toward the blond, useless, treat-women-like-crap male, but at the moment she felt something raw and uncontrolled for the very hot Asian man with his fingers pressed against the crotch of her panties.

Time zipped right by surreal and was well on its way to pure fantasy. Eric's name appeared in the news almost every day. She knew him by reputation. He was a superstar in the Honolulu legal community with a crystal-clean reputation and an eye on political office.

She was at this event on this day and in this outfit for him. In her plan, she didn't talk to him or get in the way of the assignment. Certainly didn't kiss him. Not that she cared about propriety and schemes right this minute, but this heat between them sure was going to be a complication.

Then his thumb rubbed against her, back and forth until the material grew wet and her breathing turned shallow. Yeah, she'd worry about the complication tomorrow. Right now, she'd enjoy.

She wanted to whisper his name, but she wasn't supposed to know it. Under her act, they were nothing more than strangers, her a caterer employee at a wedding and him a guest. In about three minutes they'd be much more than that unless she grabbed onto her common sense and pulled it back, but that didn't seem likely.

He slipped her cotton underwear to the side and just like that her jumbled emotions switched from confused guilt to pure pleasure. Seemed the man with the big work title knew his way around a woman. The quiet ones always did.

With a tug he unclipped his belt on the only piece of clothing standing between her conscience and raw pleasure. He lifted his head then. That dark gaze roamed over her face. His lips stayed flat, but the heat in his stare flared.

“You sure?” That's all he offered. Rough words delivered in a husky voice.

She didn't need an explanation or a minute to think. Her fingernails dug into his suit jacket and hit his shoulders underneath. “Yes.”

Without breaking eye contact, he bunched her regulation catering skirt in his fist and dragged it up to her waist. Two seconds later she heard her underwear rip and felt a rush of cool air across her thighs. She sat there naked and open to the gaze of someone she knew only through the media's version of him. He was a tough prosecutor and she was under him.

His unblinking gaze traveled over the spot where her breasts strained against her snowy white shirt, igniting the fire in every cell and nerve ending until she had to fight the urge to squirm. That intense stare came to rest on her bare lower half. His eyebrows snapped together as if he were trying to figure out an intricate problem rather than hovering on the verge of having sex.

Then he brushed his fingertips over her. Not inside. Not with a lot of pressure. Just a slight touch of skin against skin that sent her hips reaching toward him.

“Nice,” he whispered.

“Please.” She bit down on her lip to keep from saying his name.

His thumb inched inside her, slow at first and then insistent as he circled around her slick opening. She grabbed his forearm as a finger joined his thumb. The soft rotation, the friction, made her inner muscles ache and clench. She reached out to the side wall for balance and knocked over the soap dispenser.

The crashing sound of metal against the marble floor didn't stop Eric at all. “Wrap your legs around me,” he said.

She obeyed without thinking, but when the sound of his zipper ripped through the room, the haze of need cleared for a brief window. “Wait.”

“What?” His gaze centered on where his fingers disappeared inside her.

She pushed against his shoulder to get his attention. “I don't have—”

He treated her to a quick nod. “I do.”

He dug into his pants pocket and came out with a small packet. He clamped it between his teeth and ripped off the wrapper.

He was ready for action? Here? Today?

She had to ask. “You brought a condom to a wedding?”

“It's a long story.”

One she was dying to hear, but the thrumming in her body trumped her brain on this one. “You can tell me later.” She shifted, bringing her body closer to his just as he deepened his touch. “Oh, that's good.”

A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, then quickly disappeared again. “I'd say.”

Her hand slid down to the opening of his pants, to where his erection pressed against his gray briefs. She wasted no time in freeing him to her touch. Moving up and down, tightening and learning the smooth feel of him until he groaned.

She pulled the condom out of the death grip of his fist. “Let me.”

As she rolled it over his length, he leaned in, letting his warm breath brush against her cheek. The sound of harsh pants filled the room.

“Faster,” he said as he nibbled on her earlobe.

A clutching filled her chest and moved its way down her body. Heat and building need. The kissing and wandering hands led to this deep desire. It wiped out everything else, making her abandon her true purpose for being at the hotel and, instead, focus on easing that stern look he'd worn throughout the wedding reception. On getting his pants off as soon as possible.

He shifted his hips and pushed inside her, slow and even, stopping only to let her inner muscles adjust before sliding deep. The fullness brought a rough intake of breath to the back of her throat. The job, the money—none of it mattered, not when he moved like that.

 

At least he'd worn a condom. Eric sat in his office the following Monday morning, grateful for that small show of intelligence during an otherwise mindless bout of hot sex.

He had his idiot friend, the same one who stood on the other side of the desk holding out a cup of coffee, to thank for that favor since he was the one who'd insisted Eric take the packet to the wedding. Not that Eric planned to share how he'd used it.

“You look like shit.” Seth Freeman delivered his assessment with a huge smile as he plopped into the small black chair across from Eric. The seat was designed more to keep visitors off guard and squirming rather than comfortable.

The hard wood didn't bother Seth. His relaxed, never-ruffled style allowed him to be at ease in any situation. Thanks to years of friendship, Seth was not one to give in to Eric's intimidation, which was exactly why Eric had pushed to have Seth named as Chief of the Career Criminal Division the year before. Their styles complemented each other, and the guy was a damn fine lawyer.

But right now, Eric seriously thought about having Seth arrested. No idea what the charge would be, but he'd think of something. Anything to stop the conversation Eric guessed was coming.

“This one is for you,” Seth said as he slid the cup across the top of the practical metal desk before easing back into his open-legged sprawl.

To keep from getting sucked into a personal conversation, Eric grabbed a file and flipped it open, pretending to read. “Thanks. I have some work to do but can meet you for lunch at the usual—”

“Your foul mood have anything to do with your weekend activities? Or should I say lack of them?” Seth asked as he sipped his coffee.

Eric stopped rambling but refused to glance up and acknowledge the humor in Seth's tone. “No.”

“Interesting.”

Eric could think of a hundred words to describe the last two days. Interesting didn't come close to summing them up. Fast, sexy, and dumb were more on point.

“Not really,” he said.

“Hmmm.”

Eric ignored the first three hmmms but gave in to the fourth one and looked up. It was either that or deal with Seth's staring and odd noises for the next hour. “What?”

A shrug. A frown. Seth went through his entire “no big deal” repertoire of gestures before actually spitting out a word. “Some guys would have trouble dealing with their ex-girlfriend's wedding when they're not, you know, the actual groom. Most would refrain from attending said festivities. Might even make sure to be out of town when the deal went down.”

“Do you have a point other than being dramatic?”

“Since you insisted on going to the shindig…” Seth broke off, shaking his head in what could only be described as pained disappointment. “Ah, hell. I bet you even brought a gift. Didn't you, you dumb bastard?”

“If this is a closing argument, you should actually, you know—” Eric cleared his throat. “End.”

“I assume the wedding and seeing Deana looking all beautiful as she walked to another man is the source of all the frowning and grumbling. Can't blame you. She is one fine woman.” Seth whistled. “Always has been. I'm sure her wedding day was no exception.”

Deana's big white dress blowing in the March sunshine and her face lit with enough happiness to power all of the island of Oahu. Yeah, that was an image Eric didn't need or want swimming around in his head. He'd fought it off all weekend.

“Are you done?”

“You have the entire office on edge,” Seth added as if he hadn't yet made his annoying point. He hitched his thumb over his shoulder. “I think I saw a grown prosecutor cry out there.”

There it was. Eric had noticed the sympathetic smiles and sideways glances at the wedding, watched as the attorneys in the office scurried away from him as he walked down the hallway that morning. Despite his practiced appearance of calm, he'd somehow gone from being in charge to being the object of pity and more than a little fear. The last part didn't bother him. The former did.

As the Deputy Prosecuting Attorney, he wielded a lot of power over assignments and work performance assessments. Not a bad thing for people to be careful around him, but being the subject of courthouse gossip destroyed his authority.

He had one woman to thank for the bleed between his personal and professional lives—Deana Armstrong, now Deana Armstrong Windsor. She'd dumped him for doing the right thing and then married a guy she barely knew. Eric still cared for Deana. Hell, he even liked her new husband Josh Windsor.

But Eric hated their wedding—the rows of white chairs set up on the lawn, the cloudless day, the stunning sweep of a view from Diamond Head at one angle and Waikiki at the other. The idea of it, the press surrounding it and having to attend it, all ticked him off. If he could, he'd wipe out the image of Deana smiling as she strolled across the grass and stopped under a trellis filled with purple flowers and framing the ocean beyond.

Maybe one day. Clearly not today since everyone appeared compelled to remind him.

“Deana is married. We're friends,” he said in his best we're-done-with-this-topic voice. He glanced down at the papers in front of him but only saw a black blur of ink.

Seth being Seth, he ignored the hint. “That's very civilized of you.”

“Right.” Eric nodded because he didn't know what else to do. “No reason we can't all be adult about the situation.”

“Very mature, as usual.”

“Exactly.”

The silence lasted for exactly three beats before Seth piped in again. “So, did you give the groom tips on how to keep the bride satisfied in the bedroom…or is that not your specialty area?”

Eric dropped the file against his desk with a smack. The loud
whap
didn't wipe out the burning need inside him to hit someone. “You have work to do and an office you can do it in, or do you actually want something?

“A reaction.”

“To what?”

Seth leaned forward with his elbows on his knees. Gone was the smooth guy who preferred lost hours on a surfboard but excelled in the courtroom. The thin line of his mouth suggested anger. “Damn it, Eric. You insisted on attending the thing, of making a show that everything is fine.”

“Everything
is
fine.”

“Would you just admit it? You're pissed that Deana chose Josh over you.”

Josh was a DEA agent and professional acquaintance. Sure, Deana was free to date anyone she wanted, sleep with anyone, when she met Josh. She and Eric had been broken up for nine months by that time, but that had been her choice and not his. Despite all that, he put on his public face and did what a guy in his position did—he attended the damn wedding and stayed sober to prevent himself from kicking the crap out of the groom.

Not being able to lose himself in the open bar, Eric did the next best thing. He had sex with a waitress in a locked bathroom stall. Not his brightest move. Not when he was at the start of a rough campaign to be the prosecuting attorney, an elected position, rather than the deputy, his current appointed position. Sex with a stranger while the press hovered a few feet away wanting a quote had the potential to backfire, no matter how good it was.