Overruled / Page 92

Page 92



“I am pushing. It’s tight.”


“If I do it any harder, I’m gonna fucking break something.”

“Just shove it in.”

“I’m trying,” I grunt.

“Is anyone else getting turned on by this conversation?” Jake’s detached voice floats over from the other side of the heavy-ass desk I’m currently jamming through the doorway.

With a shout, we get it through, then settle it gently in front of the window—like Sofia and I agreed. This way we can enjoy the natural sunlight while I’m fucking her on it.

“I’m too damn tired to get turned on,” I gripe, wiping the sweat off my forehead.

Then Sofia walks into the room, and my eyes naturally fall to the magnificent way her snug black turtleneck highlights her tits. “Never mind—not too tired after all.”

“This looks great in here!” she squeals with a smile. “This is the last of it.”

Sofia asked me to move in with her last week. I’d practically been living here since midsummer anyway. But the idea that it’d be official—that’d we’d wake up together every morning and come home here together every night—is awesome. Her place is bigger than my apartment, and already furnished, so most of my furniture is staying behind with Jake. Except for Presley’s bedroom set, which is now set up in the townhouse’s third bedroom, the only item I insisted on bringing is my desk. So instead of a guest room, the second bedroom is now converted into a home office for both of us.

Sofia enjoys this oversized oak desk as much as I do. Especially for the extra space it allows while working at it, and like I said—for the fucking.

Brent walks in holding champagne glasses and Sofia pops the cork on the bottle in her hands. We fill the glasses, pass them around, and I propose a toast.

“My momma always used to say home is where the heart is. But I never really understood how right that was—until now.” I gaze at Sofia. “You’re my heart, so wherever you are, I’m home.”

She plants a kiss on my lips.

“Okay, now I’m really turned on,” Jake comments. Then to Brent he says, “You ready to head out? Hit the bars?”

“I was born ready,” Brent retorts. Then he asks us, “Are you guys coming?”

With her arms around my waist, Sofia tells him, “I plan to shortly—and if history is any indication, more than once.” Then she’s kissing me again.

“Ewww,” Brent says. “You guys are gross.”

We walk them down to the front door. “But seriously,” Brent asks, “you’re not coming out?”

I smack his back. “Can’t—I have a lot of work to do.”

We say our thanks and good-byes, and I lock the door behind them.

Sofia looks up at me. “Do you still have work on the Penderson case?”

I chuckle. “No, Soph, I wasn’t talking about that kind of work.”

She smirks. “Then what kind of work were you speaking of?”

I scoop her up into my arms. “Christening every room in this house. It’s gonna be a lot of hard, sweaty work.”

• • •


It had been a bad fucking day. The bad started with a squirrelly client who was dicking me around about a prior out-of-state conviction for assault, then progressed into the notification of an appeal that didn’t go my way. To top it off, an arctic blast had decided to descend upon DC, making it colder than a witch’s tit outside—the kind of frigid that made it feel like needles are pricking your face every time the wind blew.

The only good part about the day was that it was almost over. And I was able to find a parking spot outside the courthouse, the steps of which I’m currently walking. After I pass through security, feeling starts to return to my fingertips as I slip into the courtroom and take a seat in the back. I take a deep breath—and watch her. Asking the final questions of her cross-examination, stalking back to the defense table, her black heels clicking on the floor. All eyes are on Sofia—not just because her ass looks phenomenal in the tight black pencil skirt—but because of her presence. Her posture, the tone of her voice —she commands the room and the attention of every person in it.

The frustration of the day ebbs away, replaced with a calm peace and swelling pride—because that amazing, fascinating, capable woman is mine.

After court is adjourned, I approach her from behind as she slides folders into her briefcase. I wrap an arm around her waist and place a brief kiss behind her ear. She tenses for a split second before relaxing into my embrace. Because without turning around, she knows it’s me.

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