One to Chase (One to Hold #7) Read online

  I’m not sure the common man would call them houses. More like palaces. A waiter appears at my side.

  “Another espresso, miss?”

  “I’ll have a martini, thanks. Dry, no ice, two olives.” Fuck you, Pill-butt.

  A brief smile and the beige-suited server hastens away to fulfill my request. We’ve each already ordered eggs benedict. Just waiting for them to appear.

  My gaze returns to Karen’s. “The old gang still around?”

  “Bev got married, did you know?” She holds me in her probing gaze, and I silently note how her brown eyes are not warm. I’m not sure they’ve ever been warm.

  Shaking my head, I slide my finger down the handle of my knife, contemplating my once-best friend and wondering how long it takes to mix a martini. “We lost touch after I left.”

  She shakes her head, and exhales a sigh. “I shouldn’t wonder.”

  Not sure what that means. “I do keep in touch with C.J.,” I continue. “Although, I’m surprised he didn’t tell me his sister got married.”

  Actually, I’m not so surprised. Bev chose her side, and it wasn’t mine. Not that I blame her. I was a wreck back then.

  “Perhaps he wasn’t sure of your reaction. I know how close you two were senior year.”

  I have to give her credit. Karen has grown into a royal bitch since I’ve been gone. She wasn’t this bold in high school.

  “We were close, I guess. We just had different... paths.” The waiter is back, placing the small tumbler of clear liquor and a spear of two olives in front of me. “Why would I be surprised?”

  “She’s as gay as her brother now.” I watch as my opponent leans back in her chair, a haughty expression on her face, and I steel myself. “What’s more, she actually demonstrates. Can you imagine one of us marching in the streets? It’s absolutely demeaning.”

  “I suppose she has some wild idea she deserves the same rights as everyone else.” I take a sip of my drink. Wow, gin still tastes like Christmas trees.

  Karen shakes her head as our plates are put in front of us. “Bullshit. We don’t have rights. The middle class thinks it’s so grand to be us, but we have a system of rules to follow no one would covet. If she wanted equality, she should’ve left like you did.”

  That comparison calls for a little more Christmas. I take a longer sip, and consider how Karen would spin it if I had gin for brunch instead of poached eggs and hollandaise. No, I owe it to Sylvia to choke down a few bites.

  My nemesis doesn’t skip a beat. “You should have seen her wedding.”

  Knife and fork in hand, she slices a small wedge of egg, Canadian bacon, and English muffin. I reluctantly follow suit.

  Her bite is cleared before mine, and she continues. “Her partner Lorna was absolutely gorgeous in this backless tulle gown. Very Portia de Rossi. Bev was in the usual black pantsuit, but at least she wore a white chiffon blouse.”

  Nodding, I stir the olives in my glass. “So you went to the wedding?”

  Karen’s eyebrow arches. “Of course! She invited me. We’re old friends. I support her living her life, but she can’t be cramming her agenda down our throats, expecting anything to change.”

  Silence falls over the table, and we face each other awkwardly. This was not how I’d expected our brunch to flow. Instead of ire, it’s turned depressingly philosophical.

  I’d expected Karen to pick me apart, but she’s already categorized me. Now I’m learning how much I don’t know, and I’m feeling more the outsider than ever.

  Martini finished, I just say it. “I wasn’t cramming an agenda when I left.”

  The statement freezes her mid-bite. Anger flashes in those cold brown eyes and her voice is flat. “Don’t you go there, Amy Knight. Don’t you dare. We both know why you left.”

  How many years has it been, and we haven’t moved a step away from the past? “This place had become too poisonous.”

  “You poisoned it. Why did you even come back?”

  Glancing around, I lift my bag off my chair. This enormous room feels like it’s closing in on me, and I need to get outside where I can breathe.

  “I’ll pay up front,” I say, placing my napkin beside my plate and standing.

  “Answer my question, Amy Knight.”

  All the weight of the past presses down on my shoulders, but the last ten days cemented my decision. “I came back for Sylvia.”

  She can’t counter that, and I don’t wait for her to try. So many times I should have thought of my mother first. I should have prioritized her needs. I’m here for her now, and I’m not going anywhere. No matter how badly Karen wants me to leave, or what she might do to get her revenge.

  It takes five seconds to cross from here to the exit.

  I’m going to make it in three.

  * * *

  Marcus

  I lean back in my leather chair and study my desk clock. It’s noon. How long should I wait... Forty-five minutes? An hour? More?

  Brunch at eleven-thirty. Knowing women, they’re probably chatting, catching up. Propping my feet up on the edge of my desk, I stare at the coffered ceiling remembering her smile, the way she looked at the bar—laughing, her eyes sparkling. The light tips of her hair danced around her shoulders the same way they did when she straddled my lap.

  She was so beautiful last night in that black lace bra and thong. My eyes close, and I can see her small breasts bouncing as I drove into her. They’re perfect handfuls, perfect mouthfuls.

  She did it again. I didn’t make her say she wouldn’t run out on me. I tried to be a hard-ass, demand an admission of... anything. Picking up my white, Chicago Cubs stress ball, I give it a squeeze before tossing it straight up and catching it again. I was too distracted by my cock aching to be inside her to care about making her say she’d stay.

  Next time...

  Dropping my feet, I lean forward and snatch up my phone. It doesn’t matter what time she finishes. My text will be waiting when she checks her phone.

  In my office. Run up and we can finish our talk.

  Now I have to hope she checks her phone. She doesn’t seem as attached to it as most women her age. She also probably doesn’t work on weekends. I don’t consider this working, so I don’t mind being up here.

  When we leased this place, I chose this office because it was the most like a living room or a home office. Research, the law, solving cases, they’re what I love, and being here feels as natural as being in my condo doing it.

  The last thing I wanted was a sterile, cold workplace. Here, the chairs are comfortable, I have a nice view, I’m close to bars and coffee shops. Looking across the room, I admire the recliner and ottoman positioned in front of a wall of books. It’s warm and welcoming, an extension of my home.

  The phone buzzes and I snatch it up, my pulse ticking a little faster at the prospect of seeing her again. I’m not going to hide it. Amy Knight is beautiful, smart, strong, fantastic in bed, and I’m willing to see how far this might go. Also, I’m not accustomed to chasing women. It’s something new and intriguing.

  With a frown, I read the message from Kitty Donnelly. Marcus, dear, please join us at the house for dinner tonight. I need to chat with you about my nephew Oscar.

  Exhaling, I dutifully type out a reply. Sure. What time?

  How I’ve managed to become the go-to for all the young people trying to break into the Chicago scene, I’ll never know. I’m not a man about town. I don’t appear in the city magazines. In fact, I do everything possible to avoid being photographed with my dates at events. It keeps my personal life personal. And real. No publicity-seeking, social climbers throwing themselves at me.

  Would 7 work for you?

  See you then.

  Truthfully, dinner with Paul and Kitty will be a nice distraction from hanging around thinking about her. Amy Knight is interesting enough to warrant a little pursuit, but I won’t be made a fool.

  * * *

  Amy

  Walking fast up the sidewalk toward Mich
igan, I realize I’m trembling.

  I can’t go home like this. Sylvia will be all over me wanting to know what happened, and telling her is the last thing I can do.

  Stopping at the intersection, I take a deep breath and look up and down the sidewalk trying to estimate how far I am from Millie’s. I’m not that out of touch with the city. I should be able to remember where the closest bar is.

  C.J.! I grab my bag and dig around for my purse. He’ll know where we can go for a drink, and if he joins me, maybe he can take my mind off what just happened.

  The little red spot tells me I have a text. Swiping it fast, I stop in my tracks. Marcus wants me to stop by his office. Marcus...

  Last night is so fresh in my mind. He ran after me in his bare feet. Giving my forehead a hard rub, I consider taking him up on his offer.

  No. He’s too demanding, too bossy, and damned if my insides don’t go all squishy at the thought of him.

  Be logical. It’s possible, once I lay the ground rules, I don’t do relationships, we’ll be fine. Hell, he’ll probably agree with me. He’s got to be at least thirty-five, and he’s still single. It’s silly for me to cross him off the list when we haven’t even laid the ground rules.

  Standing on the sidewalk, I look up in the direction of his building. After the battle I just fought, it would be nice to have him lick my wounds. My stomach warms, a naughty smile on my lips. Or something else...

  Chapter 6: Ghosts and Memories

  Marcus

  Three hours billed reviewing depositions in preparation for a damages hearing. It’s enough for a Saturday, and I’ve got to get out of here if I plan to run, shower, and be at Paul and Kitty’s for seven.

  I’m just at the door when it opens on its own. I have to blink a few times for my eyes to adjust. Amy stands in the dark hallway, and a pulse of anticipation moves through me. I hold the door, and she steps through it, taking my breath with her.

  A filmy tan dress hangs loosely on her slim body. The neck drapes low, and fuck me, the edge of that black lace bra is just barely exposed. My mind floods with images of last night.

  Her long, slender arms are bare, smooth and golden, and I want to slide my palms up them, stop at her shoulders, and ease those straps down, pull her to me, cover her skin with my mouth as I taste all of her again.

  Something’s off in her features. Last night she was all force and playfulness, but today, the wind is out of her sails. Her eyes are haunted, and a glimpse of her vulnerability provokes the most unexpected response in me.

  I place my hands on her beautiful shoulders and pull her straight into my chest, wrapping my arms around her, sheltering her in my strength. She trembles, but her hands lightly circle my waist. Her face is buried in my shirt, and she doesn’t move. She only holds me as I hold her.

  What passes between us in this moment is so basic. She moves her head and starts to pull away, but I catch her cheeks in my hands. Her pretty green eyes are clouded, and my lips tighten. I want to know who dared make her feel this way.

  Sliding my thumbs just under her eyes, I don’t want her to cry. She doesn’t. She blinks to my mouth, pulling a glossy pink lip between her teeth. We haven’t spoken since she appeared, but it doesn’t matter. We’ve said everything needed in only a few gestures.

  I lean down and capture her lips with mine, tasting her luscious mouth. Christmas is on my tongue. Gin? A little noise comes from her throat, and all is forgotten except her soft body in my arms. I slide my hands behind her neck, tilting her head so I can deepen the kiss. Our tongues curl together, and our bodies are fused from chest to thigh. Breaking away, I hold her shoulders as I move us back to my large desk.

  In a fast sweep, I lift her to sitting in front of me. Her mouth is back on mine before she can speak or protest, and I’m between her thighs, scooping her ass toward me with both hands.

  Now that she’s flush against my torso, I reach down to her thighs, lightly trailing my fingers up them, taking the hem of her dress with me. Another moan scrapes across her throat into my mouth.

  Her hands are on my shoulders, tightening their grip as I continue trailing my fingertips to her damp, lace panties. Lightly sliding them aside, I touch her gently.

  “Marcus!” Her head drops back with her gasp.

  “You’re so wet,” I murmur against the skin just above her collarbones. Laving my tongue across that little hollow in the center, I give her a brief nibble.

  Plunging two fingers inside, I’m rewarded with a little cry. “Oh, god!” She’s clenching around my fingers, her wetness sliding all over me. The memory of her tight little pussy is killing me.

  Lifting my head, I kiss her jaw, her cheek, her eyes. “Amy,” I whisper against the skin near her ear. “I want to be inside you.”

  Her hands have moved from my shoulders to quickly unbuttoning my shirt. I slide my fingers out of her and reach to lower the straps on her dress. They practically fall away revealing her black bra underneath. It’s pretty, but it’s covering what I want to see.

  “Open this.” My voice breaks with my desperation to have her. I want to see those beautiful breasts again, pull a taut nipple firmly into my mouth as I sink deep between her thighs.

  She smooths her palms over my bare chest now that my shirt is open. “Your chest hair teases my nipples,” she whispers, blinking up at me, a hint of playfulness back.

  “My teeth want to tease them.”

  Her eyes darken, and in my peripheral vision, I see her fingers flip the clasp at the center of her sternum. The bra falls away, revealing soft golden skin, and I reach up to cup both breasts in my palms, sliding my thumbs across the pebbled tips.

  “You have perfect breasts.” The sight has my mouth watering and my cock straining to be released.

  Slim hands move to the sides of my neck, and she arches her back up, lifting them toward me, as she gently tugs my face to her body. I need no encouragement. I dive into her, ravenously consuming, running my tongue around her dark areola before pulling her beaded nipple hard into my mouth.

  “Oh!” She gasps and I quickly move to the other side to repeat the process.

  Pressure against my fly causes me to groan against her skin. Her hands are sliding up and down the front of my pants, caressing and cupping. I break for a moment to unbutton my pants and shove them down. Today I went commando, and cool fingers quickly encircle me, pulling and tugging and driving me wild.

  I’m ready to jerk her black panties aside like before, but she slides off the desk and quickly pushes them down, stepping out. Just as fast, she wraps a leg around my thigh and pulls our bodies together again. Her heat is flush against my stomach, and I’m straining for her.

  She grasps my shoulders, pulling me and rocking her hips, and everything falls away. Catching her ass, I lift her back on the desk and position my tip at her entrance before pushing inside in one swift movement.

  “Yes!” Her hiss mixes with the guttural curse I let out as I sink deep into her hot warmth. “So big.” She’s pulling me into her, massaging me and clenching all around.

  “Amy.” My voice is ragged as she lays back on my desk, knees up. I slam into her again and again. Sweat forms on my brow, but I clutch her knees and pull her to me, matching each thrust.

  She cries out, bucking against me, and I’m going harder, faster. I want to hold out, but this is more than I can bear.

  “Come for me,” I groan, slamming into her, watching her small breasts bounce with every stroke.

  “Marcus,” she gasps, and I see her fingers move down between her thighs. She fingers herself, circling her clit, and I start to lose control.

  “Yes,” I gasp as my orgasm crests.

  Her fingers move faster, and all at once, she breaks. Her legs jump violently in my hands as she wails. Her insides spasm tighter and harder, pulling and milking me with the intensity of her orgasm.

  “Oh, fuck!” I can’t hold back anymore. In that moment, my own climax rockets through my body, and my knees buckle. A shaking
groan rolls from my chest, and my eyes squeeze shut. For a moment, everything blacks out, and I’m holding onto Amy so I don’t hurtle into space.

  I’m lost in this beautiful woman, and she’s trembling, gradually coming down from her own high. One of my hands is flat on the desk beside her, and the other still holds the outside of her knee. A bead of sweat runs down my cheek to my jaw, and as I return to reality, I feel the warm velvet of her tongue pressing against my face.

  Blinking my eyes open, she’s sitting up, legs still over my hips, watching me with the smallest smile. It’s so much better than the haunted look she wore when she arrived. I hold her gaze, hoping to convey all the warmth and gratitude I feel right now. A one-syllable laugh breaks through her lips, and she puts her head against my chest.

  “Oh, Marcus.” Her voice is somewhere between amusement and regret.

  I can’t have that. “We never looked at my website.”

  “I’m not convinced there is one.” She catches my eye, hers twinkling with playfulness. That’s better. “It’s like your girlfriend in Canada.”

  “I promise I have one.”

  “A girlfriend in Canada or a website?”

  “Hmm.” I let my eyes run over her face. Her cheeks are flushed pink, and spots of red are along her neck and chest from my beard. She’s just-fucked gorgeous, but I’m not ready to show my hand. “Website.”

  Her lips press into a smile, and I feel as though she read my mind. “Are you saying you want to hire me?”

  “Yes.” I remember my day. “Come with me to dinner tonight.”

  She moves and I slide out, and all at once I realize. Where the fuck was my brain just now? “I’m sorry. I-I swear to you, I’m clean. I didn’t even—”

  “Stop.” She reaches up and puts two fingers lightly on my lips. “I wasn’t thinking either. I guess I trust you. I’m on the pill, so we should be okay.”

  It’s a huge relief and an amazing turn-on. I love the feel of her body around me. I’d never put her in danger, and I don’t condone recklessness. Seems with this woman, I’m always getting lucky.

  “So you were saying dinner?” She pulls me out of my thoughts, and I smile, scooping her to me by her lower back. Her bare chest is flush against mine, and it feels so good.