from far away. Nothing but a white tank top, tattoos, jeans, and that golden scruff on his jaw. And on his chest, and his arms. Jesus, his arms. She could see every defined muscle under his golden skin, every taut line, every flex and release.
He was freaking hypnotizing. She’d never had such trouble focusing. Cate was always on point when she was working, always ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room, or n the rand now in this moment all she could think about was what it would feel like to run her tongue over each and every one of those abs.
What it would feel like to have his weight on top of her.
Inside her.
This is a big deal, Cate. Get your head in the game.
She was only saved when Soren looked up and saw her.
Cate was as dressed down as her wardrobe would allow. But walking toward Soren as he looked up and took her in, she realized that while she dressed for many reasons—to intimidate, to distract, to persuade—she never dressed for fun. And based on the effect she was having on Soren, dressing for fun could be…very fun indeed.
His eyes never left hers as he put down his pool cue. As he walked toward her.
As he took her hand and pulled her toward him.
Cate was caught off guard, caught breathless and unprepared. She blinked, a little bit bewildered, a little bit dazzled by his touch. His nearness. It wasn’t just his hand, engulfing her own like a giant paw. Cate could have sworn she could feel the length of him against her, could feel his eyes on her.
“Oh God,” she whispered.
Not exactly off to a professional start.
He was looking at her strangely. Intensely. Those lines in his forehead, around his mouth, they made him look…she wasn’t sure. Upset? Aggrieved?
“Cate,” he said. “Do you still believe me?”
His voice was hoarse. Rough. His hand heavy over her own, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. And it occurred to her that this was important to him, too. This question. And her answer.
That was interesting.
“Not as a lawyer,” he said, urgently. “Not as my lawyer. As you, Cate. Do you think I could have done this?”
Cate realized she was shaking her head, even as she was looking for the words. A few minutes before and she would have given a very rational, detached answer, careful to separate herself from the attraction she felt to him, to distance herself from this insane physical chemistry. She would have said there was no way to know without knowing what the allegations were, without knowing more about him.
But standing in a dark spot between the overhead lights in a back corner of Club Volare, studying Soren Andersson’s tortured face as he asked her this question, she felt an impossible conviction. A stupid conviction, really.
She was absolutely certain that he hadn’t done whatever it was he was accused of, and that was…God, that was dumb.
“Cate?” he said, his voice lower. He hadn’t moved.
Cate stood there, silent and dumbfounded, trying to figure out what the hell was going on in her own head. What got to her was the horror on Soren’s face. It wasn’t wounded pride, and it wasn’t outrage; it was true horror, like he knew exactly what it was he’d been accused of, and it was the worst thing he could have imagined.
And then a whole bunch of light bulbs went off in Cate’s head at once. She thought about all the stuff she’d learned in the Savage Hearts book, how careful Soren was with Declan and Molly, how he took blame on himself. About how careful he had been with her, about how he’d recognized things she hadn’t even been able to articulate.
Soren knew what abuse looked like. Soren knew what it felt like to be hurt.
“Oh my God,” she said. She looked up into his face, and couldn’t stop herself from saying it. “No. No, I don’t think you did it. I am so afraid I’m going to regret this, but I don’t think you could have done…I don’t think you could have hurt anyone. Not in the way they’re alleging.”
Cate stared at
He was freaking hypnotizing. She’d never had such trouble focusing. Cate was always on point when she was working, always ten steps ahead of everyone else in the room, or n the rand now in this moment all she could think about was what it would feel like to run her tongue over each and every one of those abs.
What it would feel like to have his weight on top of her.
Inside her.
This is a big deal, Cate. Get your head in the game.
She was only saved when Soren looked up and saw her.
Cate was as dressed down as her wardrobe would allow. But walking toward Soren as he looked up and took her in, she realized that while she dressed for many reasons—to intimidate, to distract, to persuade—she never dressed for fun. And based on the effect she was having on Soren, dressing for fun could be…very fun indeed.
His eyes never left hers as he put down his pool cue. As he walked toward her.
As he took her hand and pulled her toward him.
Cate was caught off guard, caught breathless and unprepared. She blinked, a little bit bewildered, a little bit dazzled by his touch. His nearness. It wasn’t just his hand, engulfing her own like a giant paw. Cate could have sworn she could feel the length of him against her, could feel his eyes on her.
“Oh God,” she whispered.
Not exactly off to a professional start.
He was looking at her strangely. Intensely. Those lines in his forehead, around his mouth, they made him look…she wasn’t sure. Upset? Aggrieved?
“Cate,” he said. “Do you still believe me?”
His voice was hoarse. Rough. His hand heavy over her own, his thumb rubbing the back of her hand. And it occurred to her that this was important to him, too. This question. And her answer.
That was interesting.
“Not as a lawyer,” he said, urgently. “Not as my lawyer. As you, Cate. Do you think I could have done this?”
Cate realized she was shaking her head, even as she was looking for the words. A few minutes before and she would have given a very rational, detached answer, careful to separate herself from the attraction she felt to him, to distance herself from this insane physical chemistry. She would have said there was no way to know without knowing what the allegations were, without knowing more about him.
But standing in a dark spot between the overhead lights in a back corner of Club Volare, studying Soren Andersson’s tortured face as he asked her this question, she felt an impossible conviction. A stupid conviction, really.
She was absolutely certain that he hadn’t done whatever it was he was accused of, and that was…God, that was dumb.
“Cate?” he said, his voice lower. He hadn’t moved.
Cate stood there, silent and dumbfounded, trying to figure out what the hell was going on in her own head. What got to her was the horror on Soren’s face. It wasn’t wounded pride, and it wasn’t outrage; it was true horror, like he knew exactly what it was he’d been accused of, and it was the worst thing he could have imagined.
And then a whole bunch of light bulbs went off in Cate’s head at once. She thought about all the stuff she’d learned in the Savage Hearts book, how careful Soren was with Declan and Molly, how he took blame on himself. About how careful he had been with her, about how he’d recognized things she hadn’t even been able to articulate.
Soren knew what abuse looked like. Soren knew what it felt like to be hurt.
“Oh my God,” she said. She looked up into his face, and couldn’t stop herself from saying it. “No. No, I don’t think you did it. I am so afraid I’m going to regret this, but I don’t think you could have done…I don’t think you could have hurt anyone. Not in the way they’re alleging.”
Cate stared at
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