Something About You (FBI/US Attorney #1)(53)

He pulled back and let his eyes roam over her, soaking in every inch. He let go of her hands and watched as she pushed his blazer off. She slid her hands past his shoulder harness, feeling the taut muscles of his chest. She found it intoxicating, having such power and strength literally beneath her fingertips.

“This works both ways, baby,” Jack said in a husky voice.

He took her mouth in a kiss so demanding it left her breathless. His hands worked impatiently as he unbuttoned her sweater and pushed it off her shoulders.

“I need to see you,” he muttered against her mouth.

He pulled down the front of her camisole and the cup of her bra, and Cameron gasped as the cool air hit her exposed breast. He stroked her nipple between his fingers, toying with it until she trembled. When he cupped her breast and plumped it up for him, Cameron arched into his hand eagerly. Then he lowered his head and took her nipple into his mouth.

Liquid heat coiled between her legs so fast she nearly sank to the floor right there. Jack slowly drew his tongue over the tight peak, first being gentle while he licked, then taking the rosy tip into his mouth hungrily. Meanwhile, his hand slid underneath her shirt and his fingers began to caress her other breast.

Cameron felt exposed yet also incredibly sensual. And while a voice inside her head told her that she needed to stop, another voice, a devilish one, told her to give in for once, to let go.

Jack pulled her camisole lower, his mouth on the hunt for her other breast. Cameron moaned, knowing which voice had just gained the upper hand.

Then a loud knock on the other side of the door startled them. Both she and Jack jumped.

They heard Amy’s voice. “Cameron? Are you in there?”

Cameron and Jack froze as the door handle turned at her hip.

Amy called through the door again. “Cameron? Are you all right?” She spoke to someone out in the hallway. “You said they were supposed to meet us back at the VIP room, right?”

Wilkins’s voice. “That’s what Jack said.”

“Try him on his cell phone again.”

Jack’s cell phone began to vibrate from the blazer Cameron had thrown onto the floor. She peered up at him. Something passed between them . . . then slipped away.

They unwound and separated. Jack grabbed his blazer off the ground to answer his phone. As he told Wilkins that they were fine and would be out momentarily, Cameron grabbed her purse off the floor and moved away from the door, pulling up the front of her camisole and adjusting her bra. She walked over to the window, grateful for the darkness that covered the awkwardness of the situation.

She was belting her sweater when Jack spoke from across the room.

“The strap of your shirt is torn,” he said softly.

“I know.” She tucked the strap inside her shirt, hoping the other one would hold. If not, Amy and Wilkins were going to get quite an eyeful. Her lips felt bruised and swollen, not that there was much she could do about that. She moved to the door.

“You’re ready?” Jack asked.

“Sure, I’m fine.” Actually, that wasn’t true, but with people waiting outside there wasn’t time to analyze her emotions. She knew it was the perfect time for a quip or a joke, anything that would get her feeling like herself again and bring her and Jack back to familiar ground. But she couldn’t do it right then. “We should get out there.”

Jack seemed to hesitate at first. Then he switched over to all-business mode and opened the door. She passed by him to step out into the hallway and for a fleeting second their eyes met—the only recognition of what had happened between them.

Amy waited in the shadowy hallway with Wilkins. They both looked confused at first, then amused.

Cameron tried to play it casual as she walked over. “We were waiting to make sure everything was safe.”

Amy pulled her to the side. “I was worried when the two of you didn’t show up downstairs.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

Amy looked her over. “That’s a new way of wearing that shirt.”

Cameron glanced down and saw her exposed shoulder. Now missing one gray silk camisole strap.

She was going to burn the stupid sweater as soon as she got home.

Sixteen

CAMERON HEARD THE knock on her door and looked up from her computer. Rob Merrocko, an assistant U.S. attorney with the office next to hers, opened the door and poked his head in.

“How’d the arraignment go today?”

“He pled not guilty, as expected,” Cameron said. “That’ll change. A jury would convict this guy in all of about two seconds.” The defendant, a youth soccer coach from one of the northern suburbs, had been charged with receiving child  p**n ography on his computer. If his lawyer had an ounce of sense in him, he’d never let the case go to trial.

It was an ugly case, and one of the few she found difficult to keep a cool head about. Just being in the same courtroom as the defendant had left her feeling disgusted and emotionally drained.

“Why do you still take these kinds of cases?” Rob asked her. “Pawn it off on one of the new guys.”

Not really her style of doing things, but Cameron managed a smile, appreciating the sympathy. “I’ll be all right.” She ran her hands through her hair tiredly and eased back in her chair. “How are things on your end?”

“I just indicted an alderman for bribery.”