𝐑𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐑 is your average do-good lawyer on the rise to fame as a representative of young victims. Except her motivations aren't all that innocent. Rayne's only goal is to run from her past, to leave confrontation for the courtroom, no...
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𝗛e closed the door behind them as they entered the backroom.
Rayne looked remarkably beautiful, especially back there, in her element. Her confidence radiated off her; it made her skin glow; her amber eyes were full of attitude. He was entirely infatuated with her, and that personal knowledge made the ends of his lips upturn. He didn't care how pathetic it sounded to other people; I am completely hers.
"Why are you smiling like that?" she asked him.
"No reason," he answered, placing his hands in his pockets.
Rayne rolled her eyes and hopped up on the singular table that rested back here, crossing one leg over the other. She was wearing a matte black pencil skirt with black tights underneath. She wore a grey blouse; it was tucked into her bottoms. Black pumps rested on her feet; she moved them up and down. Her hair was straightened and cascaded down her shoulders like a colored waterfall. Her hands rested flat on the table top as she supported herself on them.
When his eyes moved back up to her face, his smile grew. She was gazing at him with shining eyes. He licked his lips and walked over to her, standing in front of her now. He let his vision lower back down to her legs – legs that felt so good around his hips last night. Legs that he wanted to be intertwined in for the rest of his life. Legs that belonged to a woman he was undoubtedly in love with.
"My eyes are up here," Rayne spoke, using one of her heels to drag up the side of his thigh.
"I'm well aware, Red. Something else just has my attention right now."
Rueben smiled deeper as he removed his hand from his pocket and placed it on the edge of her knee. He used his pointer and thumb to gently rub against the soft material. He withdrew his other hand and placed it on the table next to hers; her fingers rested underneath his. He moved close to her, placing his face in between her hair and neck. The smell of green apples and her delectable, sweet perfume had him swooning instantly. It was a scent that belonged to him, he knew that much.
"If we were anywhere else," he whispered against her neck, nudging his nose against her skin, "—with the right permission, of course," he kissed her, "I'd rip these tights off and make you cum on my fingers faster than you can say my name," he played with the thin fabric as he finished his statement.
He grinned as he noticed goosebumps run along her skin.
"Do I make you nervous, amorcito?"
Rayne placed her hand on his arm; he watched her as she ran it up the length of it, gliding over his shoulder, before dipping down. Her nails teased the insides of his collar, making a similar feeling run across his skin. She grabbed ahold of his tie and suddenly yanked him up.
He stared, awed, into her eyes; they were droopy – filled with a foreign look.
"You do more than make me nervous," she smiled, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth.
