The Intern (The Dalton Family #4)(9)

I was seconds away from lifting Hannah onto the bar top, tearing her skirt at the waist, and eating her in front of every patron in here.

I gave no fucks who saw.

Who watched.

Even though I hadn’t kissed her, I could taste her on my tongue. Maybe it was the vanilla that I’d inhaled as my lips grazed her earlobe. Maybe it was just the anticipation of what she was going to taste like.

But the flavor in my mouth was positively hers.

A flavor I wanted more of.

A flavor I needed more of.

I’d told her that if we had met under different circumstances, she would be coming home with me. Words that were only bait. And not only had she swallowed the hook, but she’d also deep-throated the entire line.

I was ready to make her body mine, to hear the range of octaves in which I could make her moan, to have her nails scratching and stabbing my flesh because I was making her cunt scream.

I was quickly learning one thing.

Hannah was irresistible.

That was why I’d left her at the bar and returned to the table of students.

The moment my ass was back in my chair, I began fielding questions, the students waiting their turn to drill me. There was one who was going to use her looks, like Hannah had suggested, and a few who would rely on their charm. The rest didn’t have a fucking clue what their secret weapon was.

Not a single one of them was Hannah.

The more I looked at her, the more I listened to her speak, the more I dug into her thoughts, the more I realized she was a dangerous woman.

When she joined us, sitting in the chair across from mine, I had to force myself not to reach under the table and dip my fingers beneath her skirt.

She was staring at me, nursing her martini, her lips spread across the edge of the glass.

That girl had no idea what I was going to do to her tonight.

Considering her age, I assumed she’d only been with college dudes, never a man, like me. I could make her shudder just by blowing on her clit. I would listen to what she needed. I would hear what she desired, unlike the selfish sons of bitches at this table who were trying to engage me in small talk. Whose clumsy fingers couldn’t even tie a proper Windsor knot, so I knew they couldn’t ever find a woman’s G-spot.

“I have a question …”

Hannah’s voice was a welcome interruption from the conversation I had been in.

My gaze shifted to her. “Ask it.”

“Do you take the courtroom home with you?” She glanced around the group, her voice lowering as she added, “I think we’re all in similar stages of our lives here, but I wonder what it’s like for you. When you return to your house and Mrs. Shaw is waiting in the kitchen, a plate of cookies on the counter, can you eat the cookies and chat about where you’re going to vacation the following weekend? Or do you spend the entire dinner recapping every moment of the day’s trial before doing it again over coffee the next morning?”

Oh, Hannah …

I see right through you.

I had a reputation.

Bachelor. Serial dater. Playboy.

Whatever the fuck they called me.

I liked to think of it as not being tied down.

I was surprised Hannah didn’t know that about me.

Or maybe she did, and she was just confirming.

“When my driver takes me home every day, whether that be from the office or the courtroom, I leave work behind. Of course, there are evenings and weekends where I spend time doing paperwork or I take calls from clients. But when I’m out with friends, even if they’re lawyers, we don’t talk shop. When I’m eating cookies my private chef baked, I don’t think about the questions I should have asked in court or the points I should have made.” I gave Hannah a hard stare. “There’s work time and playtime. I don’t mix the two.”

I was immediately bombarded with another set of questions, taking my eyes away from Hannah. It didn’t matter. I could still feel her. Sense her. Smell her in the air.

Until I couldn’t.

Since I’d placed my back toward her during the last round of examination, I glanced across my shoulder to find her.

She wasn’t there.

I didn’t know if she was getting another drink. If she’d gone to the restroom. Or if she’d left the bar.

What I did know was that this meetup was over.

I gave my final bit of feedback to the student next to me and turned toward the group. “I appreciate you all joining me. Unfortunately, our time is up.” I decided to do one more thing to ease the blow. “Don’t bother paying your tabs; your drinks are on me tonight.”

Everyone stood to shake my hand, thanking me for my time and generosity. After I watched each of them trickle out through the main exit, I went over to the bar to pay their bill, ordering a scotch while I waited for the bartender to tally up the receipts.

That was when I scanned the room for Hannah.

But there was no sign of her.

Was our conversation too much for her to handle?

Did I misread what was building between us?

Nah, I didn’t believe that for a second.

Then, where the fuck is she?

I signed the credit card receipt and walked around the perimeter of the bar, looking to see if I could find her. When I neared the restroom, I spotted her. Her body was hidden because the man she was speaking to was much taller, blocking her from most angles.