Mine: A Stepbrother Romance: (With bonus novel Bossy!) (38 page)

“D
o you see this?” I spread the pages out on Declan’s desk, pointing at each highlight as I list off offenses. “Look. Cooper’s not even paying his required insurances. Unemployment. Disability. Worker’s comp. No wonder everyone gets fired. If they were laid off, the authorities would wise up.” I look right into his eyes not caring that this isn’t good for our case. Some things are too important to ignore. “There’s stuff here that they haven’t even put in the lawsuit.”

“And they won’t,” Declan snaps. For a moment, his office is silent while he looks over the documents before handing them back to me. He sighs. “I agree. The guy’s a creep, but we’re not working for the plaintiffs.” He leans back in his chair and puts his hands behind his head. “We’re here to defend him, not string him higher.”

I stamp my foot in frustration. “How can you even say that? Don’t you see what he’s doing? And we’re just going to let him get away with it?” God, he’s so frustrating. We should be joining the other side, not fighting them.

He shrugs. “Imagine a system where people just take everyone else’s word that something is true. Like it or not, even scumbags deserve a defense. There are rules to be followed to make sure judgments are based on facts, not emotions.”

I try again. “How about this then? These records show thousands of overtime hours logged in the last year. I don’t even know why he’s hanging onto these records, but the payroll documents show that he’s paid thirteen of them. Thirteen. Think about that for a second.” I throw the pile of documents onto his desk, where they land with a thump. “This guy should be behind bars.”

“And I’m saying it’s not our fucking problem. He’s paying us to do a job. If we don’t do it, we’re the ones who get fucked instead.” Declan is holding his pen like a twig that’s about to snap but I can’t stop pushing.

“He’s ruining people’s lives, and all you can say is that it’s not our fucking problem?” God, I want to punch him right in that arrogant face of his. I’m biased. I know that. But anyone who’s got even a tiny shred of decency should see how big of a deal this is, right? “Are you even human?”

Declan glares at me. “I get it, Claire. It’s horrible. He’s a fucking dirtbag. No arguments here, but some of us aren’t done after three months.” He stands, slamming his hands onto his desk so hard I jump. “You skip off back to school, while I’ve got my job to worry about.”

His job? Seriously? “You say that like your dad doesn’t own the whole company. Do you seriously think he’d fire you?”

He laughs, a short, humorless bark. “In a fucking heartbeat, babe. And everyone out there?” Declan waves his hands towards the door. “How do you think their bills get paid? Would you like to decide who gets to stay and who gets to go because business slows down as word gets out that we’re loose cannons in the courtroom?”

Defeated, I sit. I know what he’s saying makes sense from his point of view, but all I can see is how horrible this case is. All those white collar office workers out there would be treated fairly and probably find new jobs easily, but I don’t really know that. Could I look someone in the eye and tell them their paycheck wasn’t important enough?

No, probably not.

A vision of Dad flits before my eyes, just a brief moment where I see his face, his sunken eyes, his expression defeated. I know exactly when that moment was. Only a couple of weeks before he jumped, just before I invited him home. I’d smelled the booze on his breath. He’d gone home with me that night, but all he could talk about was how he didn’t want to mess up our lives like he’d messed up his. He’d looked a wreck.

That moment is indelibly burned into my memory.

And then two weeks later he was gone. Why hadn’t I watched him more closely? If I’d really loved him, I would’ve done more. Something. Anything. Maybe if I’d kept him home, he wouldn’t have jumped. Maybe not. But maybe.

I’ll never know.

Sagging back into my chair, I drop my face into my hands. There’s not a minute in every day where I don’t want him back, but until this case, I’d thought I’d gained some distance. Not gotten over it. I’ll never
get over it
. But past it in a way, at least enough to think rationally about what happened.

For years I’ve had one dream. Study hard, finish school, make a difference. Except here I sit, and in the span of a couple short weeks, I’ve started to doubt if I have the strength to see it through.

My lip quivers. Crap. I can’t cry here. Not now. Not in front of
him
.

I keep my head low and try to take some deep breaths, but tears leak out, and when I take in a lungful of air, it comes back out in a ragged sob. I hear Declan get up, but I refuse to look, afraid that seeing his face will make me lose what little control I still have.

His arm goes around me. He’s kneeling, pulling me against his chest. My resistance is token at best before I let him. Right now, in his arms I feel safe. Maybe it’s the way he holds me. For once he’s not squeezing or prodding me anywhere, or trying to get his hand into my shirt. He just holds me and lets me cry.

“Your dad?” His question is soft, right next to my ear. Not trusting myself to speak, I nod. He squeezes harder. “Yeah, I figured.”

I have no idea how long we sit there, but he holds me quietly without rushing me. Just giving me a shoulder to cry on. He brushes a lock of hair off my face, and suddenly I can’t hold it in anymore. With a wailing cry, I let it go in a way I haven’t since we got the call that Dad died.

When he finally speaks, it’s with a low, thoughtful tone. “Mom passed from cancer. I was seventeen when it happened. By the time she got the diagnosis, it had already spread into several organs and there was nothing they could do but keep her comfortable.” He sighs deeply, and I think the crushing hold he has on me is as much for him as it is for me.

“One day, she was all smiles, energetic, carefree. Then it was like we watched the light die in her eyes a little bit each day until she passed only two months later.” He’s so close I can hear him swallow, and his voice is tight. “Just so you know, you’re not alone.”

Tentatively, like he’s going to burn me if I touch him, I reach around and, closing my eyes, clutch him back. I’m not even close to getting all the way around, but I hug what I can.

This moment, full of pain and loss for the both of us, feels more real than anything we’ve had together in days. Maybe ever. Sometimes he’s such a jerk that I think hating each other would be easier. Instead, we’re caught in this emotional purgatory of want and need and hope and anger.

His heart beats strongly under his shirt. With my head against his broad chest I can feel it, loud and strong. I’ve stopped crying, but I don’t let go. Not until he finally pulls away, slowly, as if he’s reluctant to do it.

When we separate, his face is calm but his eyes are bright. I’m sure mine are bloodshot all to hell. I grab a tissue off his desk and blow my nose. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be bringing my private life to work. Give me a minute, and I’ll be back to normal.”

He runs his hand down my arm with a light touch. “You know what, how about we call it for today? I’ll think about what you said, but no promises. If there is anything we can do short of sabotaging the case, maybe it’s worth a shot.”

I sniffle, trying to get my emotions back under control. I’d love nothing more than to make sure this case goes right into the crapper, but with that, my internship would follow right behind. And do I really want to start my career by subverting the court process? Yes, but no. “Thanks for at least listening.”

He starts to say something, then stops.

“What?” I sniffle again, but even though my face is tight and my eyes are stinging, I seem to be all cried out for the moment.

“I don’t want to like you,” he says with such simple honesty it makes me nervous. “Fuck, your mom represents everything I hate right now.” He grins, like that’s supposed to make me feel better somehow. “But you... I don’t know. I love how you’re passionate about this shit. I love how you’re all proper, and I
love
how you look drenched in the rain.” He leans in closer, the compassion in his gaze replaced by just plain passion. “You make me want to do bad things to you.”

I swallow, his words making me shiver. “We tried that, remember? It just keeps messing things up.” It’s hard to even look at him without remembering the feel of cold, wet brick at my back, and his body moving against mine.

He smiles as if he can hear my thoughts. “Maybe we’ve just been going about it wrong.”

“Um... I know I don’t have your extensive experience, but I’m pretty sure we did it right.”

Running a hand softly up my arm, he chuckles when I press into the caress. I scowl and pull away, but it’s too late to hide my reaction.

Declan grins. “That’s not what I mean, babe, but I’m glad to know it wasn’t all bad.”

I’m wearing a pretty powder blue blouse, my blazer back out in the other room next to my desk. His hand goes to the front and with a practiced motion pops the top button.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I swat at his hand, wishing I felt as outraged as I try to sound. Instead, my heart’s pounding and there’s heat building between my legs. I try to back up, but I’m already sitting as far back in my chair as it’ll allow.

“What I’ve wanted to do since you walked in that door.” He pops another button.

My bra is pearly white with lacy trim. He’s going to think I’m wearing it for him, and I’m not sure he’s totally wrong. All I know is he sees part of it now that the button’s open.

I put my hands on his wrist, pushing him away, but it’s half-hearted. He has no trouble forcing them aside, pushing them onto the armrests of my chair. “Keep them here, babe. Wouldn’t want them to get in the way.”

I’m panicking a little, but I don’t move my hands. I don’t even know why. Actually, that’s not true. As he reaches for a third button, I know exactly why. I glance at the door, but it’s shut. There are over a dozen people just on the other side and my grip on the armrests tightens. “What if—”

“Shhh.” Popping a fourth button with his left, he brings his other hand up to cup my jaw, tilting my head to face his. He leans in and I lick my lips in anticipation. “See, I think our problem is that we need to keep things professional.”

There’s only one button keeping my blouse closed now, and his fingers grip it. I expect him to pop my shirt open, but he waits, just holding it. “I’m giving you one chance to stop this. Right now. Push me away and I’ll let you go.” His lips are almost on mine. “But you’ll miss out on my hands on your gorgeous tits. My mouth eating that hungry pussy. My cock so deep inside you, you’ll taste me.”

“Professional?” I squeak.

“Oh yeah, inside these four walls, I’m in charge. You’re only doing your job by keeping me happy, and a happy boss makes for a happy employee. Don’t you want to be happy, Claire? Or do you want to walk out that door and get back to work?”

He waits and I do nothing. Only a few moments, but long enough. Flexing his fingers, he pops the last button.

My blouse falls completely open.

F
or all my teasing, I’ve never fucked around at work before. Not literally anyway.

I shouldn’t be doing it now, not after the shitstorm at the party, and not after my dressing down in Dad’s office. Except every time we touch, my brain short-circuits and my blood flow heads straight south.

Fuck, she’s so sexy right now, skin flushed and the swell of her tits rising and falling with her quick little breaths.

Pushing her shirt aside, I cup one through her delicate white bra, feeling it fill my hand just right under the rough lace. I trail my lips against her neck, tasting her, making her mine. She moans softly and I know there’s no way we’re stopping this time.

Four months is way too fucking long.

I push closer, on my knees in front of her so she has to spread her legs to make room. Her skirt bunches up on her thighs, so high I can see her matching panties peeking out. They’re stretched tight across her pussy, exactly where I want to be.

It takes effort not to tear them off.

My fingers stroke softly over the fabric, and I lean forward to capture her gasp with a kiss. There’s no gentleness in the way I plunge my tongue into her mouth. I’m drowning and she’s the air I need to live.

Claire’s not just along for the ride, though, and that’s one of the things I love about her. She meets me stroke for stroke, demanding more. She lifts away from the chair just long enough for me to push her blouse off her shoulders and slip it all the way off. Stripping her is like Christmas morning, opening my favorite kind of package.

I separate from her long enough to watch how her beautiful, full tits bounce as I pull the bra off. “You’re fucking gorgeous.” I don’t give her time to respond before I’m back at her lips, teasing them open with my tongue. My hands skim from her waist, to her sides, and finally capturing her breasts. Rolling her nipples between my fingers, I make her groan into my mouth.

The scent of her skin and arousal drives me crazy. I need to taste the rest of her.

My lips explore her fine jawline with soft kisses. There’s a slight tinge of saltiness to her skin, intoxicating me. Making me want more.

“Declan,” she moans in my ear. “We can’t do this. Not here. Not in the office.”

“Oh, I think we
can
.”

“We shouldn’t.”

I can tell she’s conflicted, but I can also feel the race of her heart and the wet heat between her legs that’s begging me to keep going. Not once has she pushed me away. Instead, she arches into my hands, pressing her big tits deeper into my palms. This mix of nervous innocence and desperate lust only turns me on more, knowing that she’s letting me lead her out of her comfort zone.

“Nothing’s going to happen,” I murmur while I kiss my way down the hollow of her throat. She leans her head back with a gasp, exposing herself to me like an animal submitting. I find it ridiculously sexy. “Nothing
bad
anyway.”

She grinds her hips against me while my lips trace a soft path along her collarbone, but she doesn’t stop her damn objecting. “We could go back to your place.” She moans softly. “It’s not far, right?”