Justice Falling (Falling #3)(4)
“Thank you.” I could hear her take a calming breath. “Um, right. Friends. Sure. I’ll schedule that appointment. Is there anything you need me to prepare for your meeting with Mr. Jensen? Anything at all? I owe you one,” she added sweetly.
“I do love a spot of tea and a biscuit in the late afternoon,” I joked. Unfortunately, she took my words seriously. The Yanks really needed to lighten up.
“Biscuits? There may be a local bread store that would have biscuits. I’ll do my best. We have tea and cookies, though.”
“Oh love, you are too precious. I can hardly wait to make your acquaintance. While you’re preparing, look up the British terms for “biscuit,” We’ll discuss at four. Cheers!” I rang off and sat back into my chair.
Curious thoughts about the sweet Ms. Cami filled my mind. I’d not been to Hank’s office in a while, and, now that I’d spoken with his lovely sounding receptionist, I looked forward to my four o’clock. Never hurt to make new friends, particularly if those new friends were sexy little vixens. I imagined her petite, blonde, and curvy with that breathy small voice.
I finished my last meeting early and made it to the AIR Bright building with time to spare. When I stepped off the elevator and stole a glance through the glass, I plum lost my breath and the ability to walk. I stood stock still and watched the elegant beauty for a moment, taking in her edible attributes as she rounded her desk. If this was the precious Cami I’d spoke to, I was overjoyed at my good fortune. She was most certainly not petite or blonde. This woman was tall, at least five foot ten to my six foot three inch frame. Brown hair cascaded down her back. Not quite curls, but that wind-swept beachy look American girls did so well. The only word that came to mind was stunning.
At twenty-eight, I considered myself a connoisseur of beautiful women. Never had to work to secure a woman’s affection and I’d been told plenty that my good looks were a menace. Even had a hoard of women claim to love me over the years. Not once did I feel a woman was out of my league.
Until now.
The woman’s body was to die for. I watched through the glass as she moved from her desk to a file cabinet and back. Her movements were quick, efficient, and laser-focused on her task. I hadn’t expected this woman when I’d arrived. Yes, she was young. That could be easily determined by her unlined, dewy pale skin. However, I wasn’t prepared for her to be gorgeous… magnificent, really. Her hair was the color of a roasting chestnut. Not quite brown, or blonde but more a comingling of all the colors that made Fall my favorite season.
As I watched her work, my body warmed and my skin felt unbearably tight, confined by the three-piece suit I’d donned. She wore a mid-length skirt that barely kissed her knee. I’d heard them referred to as a pencil skirt, though I hadn’t the slightest bloody idea why. A pencil was a thin, straight, writing instrument. This woman was slight, yet curvy in all the places that counted, with the tiniest speck of a waist. Good God, the heels she had on were stiletto and sexy as Hell, connected to tight, toned calves. I could imagine those “shag me shoes” around my waist, the spike digging straight into the tender skin of my arse as I worked her over.
Basically, she had the body of a Playboy model, her breasts undoubtedly large but covered demurely behind a fitted top that only showed a hint of pearlescent cleavage when she bent over to retrieve a document. Christ, the more I looked, the harder I got. It took Herculean effort to not stride in, set a hand to that body, and show her exactly what I’d like to do to her.
I pulled my mind out of the gutter then straightened my back. I opened the door as she looked up, the perfect globes of her breasts straining against the material as she stared. Her lips were full and glistened like a wet, ripened strawberry. Edible as they looked, that wasn’t what drew me in. It was her eyes. They were green but almost yellow, catlike as they assessed me. A color I’d not ever seen, and I’ve dated a lot of women, stared into the eyes of many women as I shagged them into oblivion. Nothing in my past came close to these.
She stood, and I almost cursed the loss of seeing directly down her shirt to her perfect tits, until she took it up a notch and smiled. A genuine, how do you do--nice to meet you--I’m a good person that actually gives a shite about other people, kind of smile. It made me feel vulnerable and a kick off my game. One thing I found out being an attorney in New York was you didn’t often meet a genuine person. She may be the one in the eight million that lived here. I endeavored to find out for sure.
“Hello, welcome to Jensen Construction. I’m Cami. Mr. Walker, right?” she held out her hand. I grasped it with both of mine, turned it over and kissed her wrist. She gasped and tensed when my lips touched her.
“Aren’t you just the most precious thing?” I placed one last kiss on her pale wrist. Her skin was so delicate I could see the lifeblood of her veins; the blue such a contrast to her white skin. Something carnal, animalistic in me twitched at the sight.
Cami tilted her head as I let her hand go. Her eyes narrowed. “I’ve never had anyone kiss my wrist before. Is that a cultural thing?” Such an innocent. I almost felt poorly for how much I wanted to dirty her up.
“No.” My eyes took in every inch of her spectacular body from the tips of her four-inch heels to the top of her flowing locks. “One look at you and I knew I needed to have my lips on you.” Her mouth opened and she bit her bottom full lip, sending a hot jolt of lust straight to my groin.