The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(35)

My dick had hardened the moment I saw Hannah this evening.

The gap between her thighs.

Her toned legs.

That heart-shaped ass, her sweatshirt not long enough to cover it. She wore the sweatshirt unzipped, and when she had first walked into my office, it had fallen to either side, her tank top underneath showing her small, rock-hard nipples.

I was doing everything in my power not to go into the restroom and jerk off, just so this aching, throbbing intensity would lighten.

I checked the time on my watch. She’d been in the conference room for an hour.

I wanted to go in there and bark every reason why she should have found the loophole already. But dragging her in here tonight was an invaluable lesson. She needed to feel the weight of the pressure; she needed to connect all the evidence as though this were her case.

True, successful litigators shone during times like this.

Some would allow this type of evidence to defeat them, their client never standing a chance in the courtroom.

Some would use it as fuel to create fucking magic before they walked in for the trial.

I knew what I wanted for Hannah.

Now, I wanted to see how badly she wanted this.

As I sat at my desk, draining several glasses of scotch, my stomach wouldn’t stop growling. It had been hours since my last meal, the booze intensifying the hunger. I got up from my desk, and as I was about to head toward the kitchen, I smelled something interesting in the hallway.

Chocolate?

The only place that could be coming from at this hour was the conference room.

Now clutching my drink, I headed in that direction, stopping in the doorway. Hannah stood at the head of the long oval table, the space in front of her littered with books and papers, folders and highlighters.

“What is that smell?” I eventually asked.

She jumped from the sound of my voice, her hand going straight to her chest, and she gasped, “Oh my God, you just scared the life out of me.”

I had known she didn’t notice me.

That was why I’d taken a few extra seconds to admire her before I spoke.

As she turned around, grabbing something off the chair behind her, she gave me a view of that fucking ass again.

Goddamn it.

“When you heat up my homemade brownies, they turn extra gooey. That’s what you smell.” She nodded toward the other side of the room, where there was a kitchenette. “I used the microwave.” She set the container she’d taken from the chair onto the table and pushed it toward me. “Here, have one.” She licked a chunk of something off her thumb that must have accidentally dipped into the dessert. “Before you say it, I wasn’t getting distracted by my stomach or paying more attention to my hunger instead of this case. Chocolate actually helps me focus.”

That fucking mouth.

That was my distraction.

Not what was coming out of it, but what it looked like.

The thickness of her lips. The way she licked them.

How she chewed the inside of her cheek when she feared what my response was going to be.

“Tell me how chocolate helps you focus.”

She pointed toward the container. “Try one. Trust me.”

“You want me to trust you?” I chuckled.

Trust wasn’t what had been built between us.

There was a brownie sitting in front of her, resting on a napkin, and she lifted it toward her mouth. “I didn’t poison them, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

I wasn’t worried.

I just wanted one thing on my tongue right now.

It wasn’t chocolate.

It was her cunt.

Since I couldn’t elaborate, I took a brownie out of the container and chewed off the corner. The rich, fudgy consistency made my mouth water, the Nutella layer melting over my tongue.

“Fuck …” I took another bite, shocked at how good it was. “This is incredible.” I even winked to add emphasis.

“I know.” She smiled. “Now, don’t you just want to scour over every piece of evidence and help me solve this mystery?”

“Ah, brownie points, quite literally.” I wiped my mouth. “Is that what you’re after, Hannah? Earning yourself some answers by feeding me?” I swallowed the rest of the dessert, not allowing my face to allude to the satisfaction I was feeling. “Or is this your way of testing me?”

Her grin faded. “Not at all. It’s just … I’m stuck.” She flattened her hands on the papers in front of her. “And I’m overwhelmed.”

“Not the answer I want to hear.”

“But an honest one.”

“Are we shooting for honest?” I gripped the back of the nearest chair. “This is one of Dominick’s high-profile clients. This is going to garner so much media attention; my face is going to be everywhere on the first day of the trial. I promised Kennedy a win. Do you think I can walk into the courtroom without an edge?”

The vein in my forehead was pulsing.

I could feel it as I snapped at her.

“No, I don’t think—”

“Then, what the fuck are you going to do about it aside from feeling sorry for yourself?” I lifted the back of the chair, the legs floating in the air, and I slammed it on the ground. “Are you going to sit here and pout about being overwhelmed? Are you going to eat an entire container of brownies? Or are you going to buckle down and figure out the fucking loophole?”