Bossy(40)

“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.