Friction by Sawyer Bennett

  Reeve finishes up before me and comes to stand by my table. In a low voice so the bailiff doesn't hear us, he says, "Please stay at my house tonight, Leary."

  I look up at him briefly, loving the needful look in his eyes, but then go back to packing up my materials. "I can't. I have too much work to do to get ready for opening statements and my first witness."

  "Baby," he murmurs and tingles shoot up my spine. "Please."

  Snapping my briefcase shut, I pick it up and look at him with a sympathetic smile. "Missing my body that much?"

  He takes a step closer and leans down. He doesn't touch me, though, because that would be stupid, what with the bailiff waiting on us.

  "I miss you," he says simply. "I just want you to sleep in my bed. It's been three days."

  My heart melts and puddles warmly, and I really, really want to say yes, because I've missed him, too. We've both sort of wordlessly agreed not to stay with each other the last few nights, and I figured it was because we'd both be so busy there'd be no time to do anything.

  Didn't stop me from missing him every single night, though. I was having a hard time sleeping even though I was exhausted after a full day in trial and then several hours of work each night in order to prep for the following day.

  "I really have to go over my opening statement and tweak some direct exams," I say regretfully.

  "Tell you what . . . come to my house. I'll cook you dinner and you can spread out in my dining room to work. You can eat and go back to working. I'll leave you alone and be waiting in bed for you when you're done."

  The sweetest feeling of warmth and security flows through me. He wants to take care of me. He wants to be near me. I don't move a muscle but say, "If Mr. Nosy Pants wasn't in the back of the courtroom watching us right now, I would kiss the hell out of you."

  Reeve smiles at me. "Is that a yes?"

  "It's a yes," I say.

  We nod good-bye to the bailiff and share an elevator down. Unfortunately, there are a few straggling jurors heading down with us, so Reeve and I stand on opposite sides of the elevator and keep our gazes lowered to our feet.

  I follow him home, and while he starts dinner--just some soup and sandwiches--I head back to his room and change out of my monkey suit. I pull one of the soft white T-shirts he wears under his dress shirts out of his drawer and slip it on.

  Back in the dining room, I go ahead and unpack my briefcase, pulling out the things I'll need to work on tonight. I'm not going to spend much time on my opening statements. I know the facts of this case inside and out, and the opening statements are nothing more than a forecast of the evidence I'll present to the jury.

  No, I'm going to spend most of my time working on the questions I'll have for my first witness. Now, most attorneys would want their client to take the stand as the first witness in a trial. If you want to present a chronological case, it's a good and effective way to start. I know Jenna will do a fantastic job. We spent a majority of this weekend going over her testimony.

  But I'm going to do something a little different. I'm going to call Dr. Summerland to the stand.

  He won't be expecting it and neither will Reeve. Normally, the defendant would be called to testify during his case in chief, which follows mine. But the defendant isn't required to take the stand, and I can't afford to trust that Reeve will put him up there. I mean, if this douche were my client, I wouldn't put him on the stand. He's too arrogant and cocky, and the jury will hate him.

  So I decided to take the bull by the horns and call Dr. Summerland during my case in chief. As I said, they'll never expect it because it's not a very common practice, and that will also ensure that Reeve will not have bothered to prepare Dr. Summerland for it as well.

  I almost give out a maniacal, evil laugh, but suppress it. I don't want to have Reeve pressing me over what I find so fucking funny.

  "Dinner's ready," Reeve calls out, and I turn from the dining room table and pad into the kitchen. He's laid out soup and grilled-cheese sandwiches at the center island and is pulling two bottles of water from the fridge.

  "Looks fantastic," I say, and realize how starved I am. I haven't eaten since a quick bowl of cereal this morning. I'm always too wound up to eat during the lunch recess while a trial is in progress, preferring to stay at counsel table and work while it's quiet. Reeve, I've noticed, goes to lunch each day with Kratzenburg and the insurance cronies, but I didn't expect different. They would be analyzing every nuance of what happened in the courtroom.

  "Eat up," he says as he puts a bottle of water in front of me, leans over to kiss the side of my head, and sits down on one of the stools. I hop up on the one next to him and pick up the sandwich, taking a small bite.

  "Mmm," I moan in relief. "Best sandwich ever."

  He grins at me and dunks his in the bowl of tomato soup in front of him. "It's basic but filling."

  I nod, too hungry to answer him. We eat in silence for a few moments, both lost in our thoughts, which should be focused on our opening statements, but I'm not right this second. I'm thinking about how great this food is, how sweet Reeve is for cooking for me, and even from my peripheral vision, how damn good he looks sitting next to me.

  Visions of me pushing my bowl away, crawling onto his lap, and dry-humping him at the kitchen counter fill my head. Blinking, I try to clear my thoughts. We both have work to do after we eat. No sex . . . at least not until we've finished our preparations for tomorrow.

  "Glad jury selection is over," Reeve says out of the blue.

  I expect my body to tense up over his comment, because it leads us into dangerous territory talking about the case, but then I realize I don't feel awkward at all. I don't think Reeve will reveal any dark secrets he might be harboring, and I sure as hell have no compulsion to share my game plan. Instead, I find it intriguing that we can talk about something in the trial that's already been concluded and maybe see what the other person is thinking.

  "Are you pleased with the results?" I ask.

  He shrugs his shoulders. "It's an okay jury for me. I think it's a fantastic jury for you. You did a good job stacking it male heavy."

  I nod because he's right. It's a pretty damn good jury. Especially with Mr. Harmon on the panel.

  Jerking in my seat, I snap my head toward him. "That reminds me . . . why didn't you excuse Mr. Harmon from the panel? You know he's absolutely pro-plaintiff."

  Reeve doesn't look at me but takes another sip of his soup. "He's okay. I just had a gut feeling about him that maybe he'll be a little more impartial than you give him credit for."

  My eyes narrow at him. "Uh-uh. No way. Not buying it. You totally should have kicked him off the panel, but you didn't. Why not?"

  He just ignores me, taking another sip of soup.

  I reach my hand out and lay it on his forearm, halting his movements. He turns to look at me.

  "Reeve, why didn't you excuse Mr. Harmon? He's bad for your case."

  With a blank face, Reeve just stares at me, a tiny muscle in his cheek pulsing. He swallows hard and covers my hand with his own. "Don't ask me that question, Leary. Just leave it be, okay?"

  I open my mouth to argue because I'm pretty sure I know why he did it, but then I snap it shut. I don't want to hear him say it. I don't want him to admit that he's done something to help my case.

  While part of me is sweetly overwhelmed that he'd do that, another part of me is horrified. Oh, not that he would do something unethical. As I've told him before, there are certain things I would sacrifice my law ethics for. But I don't want to accept he might have thrown me a bit of a bone, because I don't want there to be any expectations that I would ever do the same.

  Because I wouldn't.

  I wouldn't lift a single finger to help him in this case.

  "I would never expect you to return a favor in this case, Leary," Reeve says. "I didn't do it expecting anything in return."

  My mouth gapes open, because he's a fucking mind reader. His hand comes up, his knuckles chuck me un
der the chin, and my mouth closes. He smiles at me in understanding.

  "I don't get it," I say, awash with confused feelings.

  Reeve leans toward me, resting one hand gently on my thigh. He presses his lips against mine, and my eyes flutter closed over the gentle touch.

  He pulls away, and I feel his hand curve around the back of my neck. My eyes open and he's looking at me so seriously, I feel the weight of his stare pinning me down.

  "Leary," he says softly, "I want you to win this case."

  "What?" I gasp, but his other hand comes up to press his fingers to my lips.

  "Shh," he admonishes. "We're not going to speak about this again, but put everything between you and me aside. I don't believe in my case. I believe in yours. Unfortunately, I'm still stuck defending it. But that doesn't mean I'm not hoping like hell that you and Jenna get everything you deserve. And here is what we won't talk about again. I might do things to throw you a bone every now and then, and that's not going to change. Just know that I'm doing this because I want to and because I can, and not because of anything you do for me in return."

  I blink at him in astonishment.

  "We clear?" he asks softly.

  I blink at him some more.

  "Leary?"

  Finally, I nod my head. "I don't know what to say."

  He smiles at me, his fingers squeezing my neck. "Tell me you adore me."

  "You know I do," I say from a place deep within my heart.

  "Tell me you're going to fuck me silly after you finish working tonight," he says, now grinning big.

  "You know I will," I say as warmth spreads through me.

  Reeve presses a quick kiss to my lips and releases me. He points at my food. "Good. Now hurry and eat, and hurry and get your work done. I'm kind of in a mood to play with my toys tonight."

  His voice rumbles over me, and there's nothing I want more in this moment than to push my plate away so I can play with Reeve. But I can't. My priorities remain in order. This trial is too important, so food first, then work, and then I'm going to let Reeve do whatever he wants to me.

  CHAPTER 20

  REEVE

  Leary's standing in front of the jury, having eschewed the wooden podium that sits off to the right. Instead, she prefers to pace back and forth in front of the jurors as she makes her opening statement. She does so without memorization or even written bullet points. Her entire story pours forth from her soul, and while opening statements are merely supposed to be a dry foretelling of the evidence, Leary talks to the jury with so much passion about Jenna's case, the jurors are all hanging on the edges of their seats as they listen to her.

  She's fucking amazing at this shit.

  Looks fucking beautiful, too, in a custom-tailored taupe skirt and matching suit jacket with a high mandarin collar. The skirt comes to just below her knees, and because it's a fairly brisk fall day, she decided to go with buttery golden-brown boots with a high heel. She's wearing her chocolate-brown hair loose around her shoulders, and I get it--with a jury that's predominantly male, she's going for a little sex appeal as well. There's not even a hint of a stuffy, uptight attorney in her form before the jury.

  Her words start to fade as I can't help letting my gaze drop to her ass every once in a while. When I think of her ass and the things we did last night, well, let's just say it's a good thing I won't have to be standing up in front of the jury anytime soon. My opening statements went off without a hitch, although I'm pretty sure three of the jurors started nodding off during my speech.

  Fine by me.

  I don't want them to connect with me or my client, and I might have even flattened out the tone of my voice a little to help make what I was saying super monotonous. Anything, anything at fucking all I can do to give Leary a leg up without actually sacrificing ethics, I'm going to do. The guilt over calling rebuttal witnesses is so thick and pervasive, it's almost suffocating me at times.

  Last night after Leary finished work, she came back to my bedroom and slid into bed. I had finished well over an hour before and entertained myself by watching Chappelle's Show.

  Turning the TV off, I turned toward her, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her in close.

  "Tired?" I asked her softly.

  "Actually, a little wound up," she murmured, leaning in to kiss and suck along the base of my throat. It felt so fucking good that I immediately started to swell for her.

  "Can I play a little bit?" I asked her, my hand slipping under the back waistband of her panties and palming her ass.

  "What did you have in mind?" she asked in a husky voice, her hand going underneath the sheets and in between my legs, where she found me naked and hard as a rock.

  Pushing my finger down in between her ass cheeks, I lightly rubbed over her tight bud, which caused her to jerk in my arms. "I was thinking about playing back here a bit."

  "You're too big," she said immediately, even as her hips started gyrating against my finger as I gently massaged her sensitive hole.

  "Yeah . . . I am too big," I said, not with any arrogance, but because I knew she couldn't take me back there right off the bat. "But I have a toy that I just know you'll love."

  "Hmm," she purred low in her throat. "Okay."

  And just like that, she submitted to me and my dirty little fantasies.

  And fuck, it was spectacular.

  I didn't go for my butt plug right away, but rather stripped her bare and ate her pussy first, making her come twice so she was nice and loose. Then I flipped her over on the bed, brought her up on her knees, and pushed her chest down to the mattress so her ass was raised high in the air. Stroking her skin, I spoke dirty words to her that caused her to moan. She held her breath when I spread her ass cheeks and dribbled lubricant over her. I used my finger on her first, almost busting a nut when she groaned in satisfaction as I went three knuckles deep on her. I massaged and played gently with her, slowly building her up. When she was ready, I said, "Okay, baby, I'm going to ease this in. I promise it will feel good."

  She didn't even tense. She was so loose and trusting that when I placed the tip of the plug to her ass, she actually pushed back against me a little. I worked it into her slowly, tilting my head to the side so I could see it as it slid into her body. When I had it in to the hilt, I twisted the base and she cried out.

  And fuck, I was done playing. I grabbed my cock, rubbed it through her slick folds a few times, and then slammed into her until my pelvis pushed hard against the plug in her ass. Leary shrieked, not in fear or pain, but in absolute pleasure, and I know this because she immediately demanded, "Do that again."

  So I did.

  Again and again and again.

  I fucked her hard and fast, she came really fast, and I didn't lag behind. So different from the sweet and slow lovemaking three days prior on our last night together before the trial started. There was a quiet desperation to the way I performed with her that night, and I hope when everything finally shakes out from this trial, Leary remembers how great every single action in my bed or hers has been between us.

  "When you've heard all the evidence"--Leary's voice cuts back into my thoughts, and I shift in my seat, because my trip down memory lane just now has given me a hard-on under the counsel table--"I'm going to come before you, and I'm going to ask you for compensation. It's going to be a large amount. Be ready for it. It's going to be an amount to compensate Jenna for her past medical bills, the reconstructive surgeries she still faces, her lost wages, and her pain and suffering. All I ask is that you listen to everything with an open mind and reserve your judgment until you've heard all the evidence. Thank you."

  Leary stands a moment more and takes time to look each and every juror in the eye. It's an impressive and brave way to make a connection with them.

  Turning from the jury, Leary walks back to her counsel table and stands in front of her chair. She doesn't bother sitting down but rather waits for the judge to say, "Thank you, Miss Michaels and Mr. Holloway for your opening s
tatements. The jury is now with Plaintiff. You may call your first witness, Miss Michaels."

  I pull my yellow pad closer to me, prepared for Leary to call Jenna to the stand. I even write Jenna's name across the top sheet and underline it twice.

  "Thank you, Your Honor," Leary says cordially. "At this time, the plaintiff would like to call Dr. Garry Summerland to the stand."

  I freeze with my pen tip resting against my legal pad. Dr. Summerland curses beside me and then leans over to whisper, "What the hell is going on?"

  Looking up to the bench, I hold up one finger on my hand. "Just a moment, Your Honor, if you please."

  "Make it quick," Judge Henry says.

  I put my arm around the back of Dr. Summerland's chair and lean in toward him. "She's allowed to call you during her case if she wants."

  "This is fucking great," he hisses at me.

  "You'll be fine," I assure him. "Just tell the truth and nothing will go wrong."

  He glares at me and I think to myself, I hope you lie, you cocky son of a bitch, and I hope Leary wipes the floor with you.

  Dr. Summerland stands from the chair, buttons his suit coat, and makes his way to the witness stand. The bailiff holds a Bible under his hand, and the clerk puts him under oath.

  If I actually gave a shit about this case, this would be very bad for me. Leary pulled a brilliant move, and I admire the fuck out of her for it. She took a gamble, knowing the chances of me preparing him for this were nil. And now I want to laugh over the green tinge to Dr. Summerland's face.

  "Good morning, Dr. Summerland," Leary says politely as she sits back down at counsel table. In North Carolina, attorneys are not permitted to stand while questioning a witness unless it's to hand them an exhibit.

  He doesn't respond but just nods at her, his lips flattened in a grimace. Stupid fuck. It's common sense that if you act like an ass, the jury is going to think you're an ass. On top of that, the jury clearly likes Leary, so if he treats her hostilely, they're not going to like that.