The Intern

7

“Do I think you’re the girl who has one-night stands? No. But I think, eventually, you would find it impossible to resist me.”

As I turned around, he stretched his arm across the bar, moving it behind me. A slow, torturous scrape across my shoulder blades with just enough pressure that I trembled. My n*****s were so hard that I swore they were on the verge of breaking through my bra.

“I take that back. I don’t think … I’m positive you would.”

“What makes you so sure of yourself?”

“I told you, Hannah, I can read you.”

“And what are you seeing?”

His face, still near my ear, moved to the front of mine. For the briefest of moments, he glanced away, and when he returned, I realized two things.

One, I missed him, even during that brief break.

And, two, he really could see right through me, his expression telling me so.

“I see a woman who’s trying to argue against her body. You don’t want me to have this effect on you, but I do. You’re shivering. I can feel it.” His hand moved around to my arm, his finger running up and down the back of my bicep. “Your pulse is hammering away; your heart’s pounding. You have to really focus on everything I’m saying because you find yourself getting lost in my words.”

When he leaned into my ear this time, I was sure I felt his lips against my lobe.

“You’re dying to know what my mouth tastes like. If my c**k fits my body type—large, thick … manly.” I tried to fill my lungs as he added, “It does.”

“Declan—”

He shifted, so our eyes met. “What would tomorrow feel like, Hannah, after I spent the whole night with you? How satiated … how sore would you be?”

I wasn’t thinking.

Because he’d sucked every thought out of me.

“Isn’t that what’s on your mind?”

I couldn’t answer.

I couldn’t even force the spit filling my mouth down my throat. But I knew I needed to give myself a second of something that wasn’t Declan, so I glanced at the table of students, all deep in conversation, not a single one looking in our direction.

They hadn’t been captivated by this vulture of law, by the god of turning women on.

“Hannah …”

I looked at him again, knowing instantly it was a mistake. “Yes?”

“If I were to slip a finger up the bottom of your skirt and touch you, would your p***y be wet?”

I couldn’t lie.

He would know.

He would see right through me.

“Yes.”

He smiled, a grin so devilish that it made me wetter. “Then, the defense rests,” he said, and he returned to the table, leaving me alone at the bar.

DECLAN

I

was seconds away from lifting Hannah onto the bar top, tearing her skirt at the waist, and eating her in front of every patron in here.

I gave no f***s who saw.

Who watched.

Even though I hadn’t kissed her, I could taste her on my tongue. Maybe it was the vanilla that I’d inhaled as my lips grazed her earlobe. Maybe it was just the anticipation of what she was going to taste like.

But the flavor in my mouth was positively hers.

A flavor I wanted more of.

A flavor I needed more of.

I’d told her that if we had met under different circumstances, she would be coming home with me. Words that were only bait. And not only had she swallowed the hook, but she’d also deep-throated the entire line.

I was ready to make her body mine, to hear the range of octaves in which I could make her moan, to have her nails scratching and stabbing my flesh because I was making her cunt scream.

I was quickly learning one thing.

Hannah was irresistible.

That was why I’d left her at the bar and returned to the table of students.

The moment my ass was back in my chair, I began fielding questions, the students waiting their turn to drill me. There was one who was going to use her looks, like Hannah had suggested, and a few who would rely on their charm. The rest didn’t have a f*****g clue what their secret weapon was.

Not a single one of them was Hannah.

The more I looked at her, the more I listened to her speak, the more I dug into her thoughts, the more I realized she was a dangerous woman.

When she joined us, sitting in the chair across from mine, I had to force myself not to reach under the table and dip my fingers beneath her skirt.

She was staring at me, nursing her martini, her lips spread across the edge of the glass.

That girl had no idea what I was going to do to her tonight.

Considering her age, I assumed she’d only been with college dudes, never a man, like me. I could make her shudder just by blowing on her c**t. I would listen to what she needed. I would hear what she desired, unlike the selfish sons of bitches at this table who were trying to engage me in small talk. Whose clumsy fingers couldn’t even tie a proper Windsor knot, so I knew they couldn’t ever find a woman’s G-spot.

“I have a question …”

Hannah’s voice was a welcome interruption from the conversation I had been in.

My gaze shifted to her. “Ask it.”

“Do you take the courtroom home with you?” She glanced around the group, her voice lowering as she added, “I think we’re all in similar stages of our lives here, but I wonder what it’s like for you. When you return to your house and Mrs. Shaw is waiting in the kitchen, a plate of cookies on the counter, can you eat the cookies and chat about where you’re going to vacation the following weekend? Or do you spend the entire dinner recapping every moment of the day’s trial before doing it again over coffee the next morning?”

Oh, Hannah …

I see right through you.

I had a reputation.

Bachelor. Serial dater. Playboy.

Whatever the f**k they called me.

I liked to think of it as not being tied down.

I was surprised Hannah didn’t know that about me.

Or maybe she did, and she was just confirming.

“When my driver takes me home every day, whether that be from the office or the courtroom, I leave work behind. Of course, there are evenings and weekends where I spend time doing paperwork or I take calls from clients. But when I’m out with friends, even if they’re lawyers, we don’t talk shop. When I’m eating cookies my private chef baked, I don’t think about the questions I should have asked in court or the points I should have made.”