His pause was longer this time. His expression was stony, and I waited, tapping my foot as the thoughts visibly flitted across his face.
“Fuck,” he hissed. “I have nothing, sweet thing. How the hell do you respond to that?”
I grinned. You didn’t. “You don’t.”
“Damn. Prosecution really is the easy side, isn’t it?”
“No.” I shook my head and sat on the sofa. “It’s not—it’s the opposite. Prosecution is the hardest.”
“How? The information is given to you.”
“Ah… But that’s the thing. It isn’t. The prosecution has to work to get every bit of DNA and evidence it’ll take to get justice. The defense gets a good deal of it handed to them before they decide what to argue against. As a prosecutor, I have to deliver evidence so concretely that it can’t be disputed. Finding that is the hardest part.”
Jordan rubbed his thumb across his upper lip and sipped his water. “That makes sense. Okay. So… Say this… You know what? I don’t even know. I’m trying to rationalize this in my mind, but I can’t think of any situation where someone could shoot themselves in the head and still be alive to shoot themselves again.”
I laughed and hugged my knee. “That’s because you can’t. This is an easy case to fight against because it’s clearly not suicide. The hard part is proving who the murderer was, and I think it was the wife.”
“Is it a real case?”
“Based on one. All of our projects are. But that doesn’t mean the outcome is the same. Last time, someone tried to base their whole argument off what happened in the real case and ended up failing it because almost everything had been changed.”
“Wow… Was that Jake?”
I pursed my lips to hide my smile. “No, it wasn’t Jake. He’s almost better than I am in law.”
“You’re fucking with me.”
“Nope. He’s so bad at history he can’t remember what he did last week, but he’s the kind of guy who could get you out of a murder conviction even if you were found with blood on your hands at the scene.”
Jordan chuckled. “I’ll remember that.”
I raised an eyebrow. “For what? Are you planning to bump me off in the middle of sex?”
“Not in the middle, sweet thing. Maybe just after. It depends how loud you scream my name.”
“Is that a test? The louder I scream, the longer I can live?”
“Yes. Is that so wrong?” His eyes glinted with laughter.
I rested my cheek against my knee with a small smile. “The volume of my screams is directly in line with how hard you make me come. So, if you want louder, you’re gonna have to step up your game.”
“Are you challenging me, Darcy?”
“Does it sound like one?”
“Yes.”
“If a duck looks like a duck, is it a duck?”
“Yes.”
“Then you see where I’m going with this, Professor.”
He growled low in his throat and launched himself over me. I slid my knee down just as his body covered mine. He dove his hand into my hair, pulling my head back, as his lips found mine. My skin tingled at his touch, each nerve ending coming alive in a way I was getting all too addicted to.
I loved the rush he gave me.
I curled my hands around the back of his neck and fell into his kiss. It was like the fall into Wonderland, multicolored and endless, and the path that guided me was paved with all-consuming longing.#p#分页标题#e#
“Is it wrong that that turns me on? When you call me Professor?” he growled against my mouth.
“A little.” I gasped as he bit my lip.
“Fuck it. I don’t want to be right.” He kissed me again, this time deeper and more desperately.
I didn’t want to admit it, but his kiss was rapidly becoming the favorite part of my day. No matter how hard I tried to stop it, I couldn’t.
I should have stopped it. I should have told him that I needed to leave right there and then and gone to see how many, if any, of my questions I could answer. But I didn’t.
I lay there as his mouth explored my body. As our clothes tumbled to the floor. As foil ripped. As our bodies connected. As we moved. As we kissed and grasped and fucked, each movement rough and rushed.
I didn’t move until he disappeared upstairs to shower. Then, with the pounding of the water as my disguise, I dressed and slipped out of his house in the way I’d done the past two days.
Something had to give.
He heard the door the second it shut. She thought he didn’t, but he did. He always did.
And he hated that fucking sound.