I collect myself and review how I’m going to pitch this in my head on my way to Beverly’s office. She’s poring over documents when I knock.

  “Kailyn, come on in.” She motions to the chair across from her desk.

  I take a seat. “I have a request I need to run by you.”

  “Oh?” She folds her hands in front of her. “Is everything okay?”

  “Oh yes, fine. There’s an alumni conference this Friday and Saturday. As you know, Daxton and I were in the same class, and he’s attending as one of the speakers. I thought it might be a good idea for me to go as well. It could give me an opportunity to revisit the possibility of switching firms in a less formal environment.” I’m laying the bullshit on thick, but the payoff will feel oh so good.

  Beverly smiles. “That’s a fantastic idea. How are things with his sister? What’s happening with the aunt?”

  “His sister is great, no more issues at school, so that’s good news. The aunt is still pushing her angle.” Linda has emailed me several times regarding the folder of information she passed over at the school all those weeks ago. I looked through it right away, but there was nothing that couldn’t be found in a simple Google search. Most of the documents were gossip site articles about some of Daxton’s unfortunate choices during his progression from teen heartthrob to top lawyer. There isn’t anything particularly condemning in the past couple of years, but I see the picture she’s trying to paint.

  “That’s perfect. Will Daxton be at the conference on Friday, or is he just attending Saturday?”

  “He’ll be there both days.”

  “Then I want you there, too.”

  “Great. I’ll make sure to take care of everything before the end of the day on Thursday.”

  “Excellent. I look forward to hearing about the progress you make over the weekend. Do you think he’ll want a gym membership? He’s definitely in good shape. Maybe see what other perks might help pull him our way.”

  “Of course.” I rise as Beverly turns her attention back to the papers on her desk.

  “Kailyn?”

  I pause halfway to the door. “Yes?”

  “I can’t wait to be able to make you a partner.”

  “Me, too.” The excitement fades as I make my way back down the hall to my office. Dax coming over to Whitman would be so much better for him and obviously it means good things for my career, but the ramifications sit heavy with me. It feels like my gains no longer outweigh the potential losses.

  Making partner isn’t what I’m thinking about on Friday morning when I double-check my overnight bag for all my fun panties packed, and of course a selection of sexy ones.

  Dax picks me up at ten. The drive to the hotel doesn’t take long since it’s during the day and traffic isn’t terrible, but he’s secured early check-in and a room on the penthouse floor, away from the conference goers so we have privacy.

  As soon as we get to the room, we’re a flurry of groping hands and busy mouths. It’s nothing like the last time we had sex. After five days of messages back and forth discussing all the things we can’t wait to do to each other, Dax is hell-bent on making every single one of those things happen in the first hour.

  I’m a limp noodle by the time he finally comes—dear lord that man has incredible stamina. He rolls onto his back and arranges me so I’m lying on top of him, my chin resting on his chest. He sweeps my hair away from my face. “Do you know what’s sexy?”

  I reach across the bed and pick up the pair of hot-pink cheekies with YOLO written on the butt in huge block letters. “These?”

  “They are pretty awesome, but no.”

  “Just wait until you see the other ones.”

  “I’m very excited to see what else you advertise on your ass this weekend.” He grins and folds an arm behind his head, bicep flexing enticingly. “But seriously, do you know what I find incredibly sexy about you, apart from your excellent taste in underwear?”

  I prop my chin on my fist. “Do tell.”

  “The way you come.” He drags his tongue across his bottom lip.

  I can’t hold eye contact, it’s just too intense. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re so fierce most of the time, but when you come, God, you’re so sweet. It’s fascinating to see you like that, just vulnerable and unguarded but still so…poised. Maybe that’s not the right word. Whatever it is, it’s my new addiction.”

  I duck my head and bury my face against his chest. “Now I’m going to be self-conscious.”

  “I don’t want to make you self-conscious. You’re phenomenal, Kailyn. Everything about you is incredible.” He runs a finger from my temple to my jaw. “I love that I get to see this soft side of you. Whenever I think about how messed up everything is, I remember that out of all this bad came two good things. I have a very special relationship with my sister and now I have you. So as hard as all of this change has been, you make the difficult days easier.”

  The sweetness of the declaration is tainted by the things I’m keeping from him. Guilt tugs at my conscience and I consider for a moment telling him about the deal with Beverly. But I don’t want to ruin this moment, and there’s no guarantee he’ll come over to Whitman, so instead I kiss his fingertips, my heart aching and swelling at the same time. “I’m glad I can do that for you, for both of you.”

  I stretch up to kiss him, and it quickly escalates until I’m underneath him again. He’s sweet and slow this time, his eyes on mine as he brings me to the edge of bliss and tips me over into the heavenly abyss.

  I’m in far too deep to get out unscathed. But I like this place we’re in; it feels protected and safe for now, even though I know it isn’t.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Little Lies

  Kailyn

  Saturday does not include lazy morning sex because Dax is speaking at a panel. Instead we have a morning quickie, and an even faster shower before we head down for the continental breakfast. Dax is bombarded by people who want to offer condolences and talk shop. The women are something else, though. They simper and fawn. It’s embarrassing and infuriating.

  What I love about Dax is the way he’s able to shift a conversation away from himself to include everyone around him. I don’t have a problem holding my own, but people gravitate to him and he knows how to work a room.

  I see firsthand how very different he is with me than he is with anyone else. When we’re alone he lets his guard down, but around all of these people he puts on the actor mask, smiling, making conversation, and being generally charismatic.

  He constantly pulls me into conversations with random fangirls, possibly to save him. He introduces me as a close friend from law school. Then he proceeds to tell whoever is currently in his orbit how incredible I am. He surprises me when he speaks at length about my willingness to take on pro bono cases and how we need more lawyers who exhibit such altruistic tendencies.

  And of course no one wants to be rude, so they nod politely, voicing their agreement while he rambles on about how brilliant I was in law school. How I’m the only reason he pushed as hard as he did and ended up where he is. It’s equal parts entertaining and humbling.

  I realize, as he drives the conversation, that despite how difficult his life has been these past months, he’s paid attention to me, to the things I want, what my goals are. And in a way, he’s acknowledging the sacrifice he believes I’m making in taking on the role of conservator for Emme.

  So often these events are about posturing, everyone talking about how awesome they are and how many hours they work, how they’ve made partner and their amazing beach house in who the hell cares where. I’ve always been personally proud of my choices, aware I’d make better money if I didn’t take on pro bono cases. I could drive a better car, maybe have a nicer house, but Dax’s praise is the affirmation I didn’t realize I needed. And I fall a little bit more for him because of it.

  Dax excuses himself twenty minutes before his panel, and I take the opportunity to freshen up in the ladies’ room. It appears every single woman at the conference had the same idea and by the time I get to the panel every seat in the front half of the room is taken, again, mostly by women. I’m forced to take a seat close to the back of the room. With only a few minutes to go the space fills quickly. I smile at the man to my right, trying to place him.

  It takes a moment, but I realize he’s one of Dax’s friends from law school, and from the pictures I’ve seen in Dax’s house, I’m pretty sure he’s Felix.

  I give him a courtesy nod.

  “Kailyn Fangirl.” He cringes. “I mean Flowers. Hey. Hi. It’s been a long time.”

  “Not long enough, apparently,” I mutter.

  “Felix McQueen.” He holds out a hand, giving me no choice but to take it. “I thought I would’ve seen Dax downstairs at the bar last night, but it looks like you’re keeping my boy busy.”

  I hate that I have to tip my head up to glare at him, but I do.

  “He’s a lot more relaxed this morning than I’ve seen him in a long time.” He waggles his brows.

  My face heats with embarrassment.

  “It’s a good thing, Kailyn.”

  A woman in the row behind us taps him on the shoulder and whispers something in his ear. He laughs and murmurs his own response before the moderator announces the panel is about to begin.

  I don’t have a great view from where I am thanks to the basketball player seated in front of me, but if I lean to the right I can sort of see Daxton. He’s eloquent and compelling, commanding the attention of the entire room, apart from the man sitting beside me.

  Felix leans in close, the kind of close I would find uncomfortable if he wasn’t Daxton’s best friend. And maybe still do anyway. “I kinda owe you an apology.”

  “You’re good. Dax already apologized on your behalf,” I whisper, eyes still on Dax.

  “Yeah, but he’s pissed at me over it, so I figure it’s better coming from me, yeah?”

  He’s not whispering, and a couple of people look over their shoulders at him, so I elbow him in the side. He lets out a loud oomph, drawing even more attention. Daxton catches the movement and cocks a brow, not at me, but Felix.

  “McQueen, save it for the bar tonight,” Dax says with a knowing smile.

  That gets a round of chuckles from the group.

  “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.” Felix salutes him, but he remains silent for the rest of the panel, mostly playing a game on his phone or texting. He pauses once to ask a completely irrelevant question.

  When the panel ends, a horde of women rushes the front of the room.

  “Come on, let’s go get something to drink while he gets mobbed.” Felix tips his head to the door.

  I don’t really want to leave Dax here with all the fangirls, but I’m also not interested in watching them fawn. “Okay.”

  Felix smirks. “Your enthusiasm is overwhelming.”

  “He’ll be okay, right?”

  “Yeah, he’s used to this. You’ll just have to deflate his ego later.”

  I chuckle and I gather my things, following him down the aisle. Felix is tall, taller than Dax even, so he waves, points at me, who I’m sure Dax can’t see, and makes a drink motion. It’s just shy of eleven, but the bar is already full of people taking early lunch and drinking pints like it’s college all over again.

  Felix and I find a seat at the bar. I order a latte and he orders scotch on the rocks. As soon as the bartender is gone he turns to me. “Sorry I was a dick in law school.”

  “Everyone was a dick, especially in law school.”

  He swirls the scotch in his glass. “Yeah, but I sort of screwed you over hard, so I feel bad about that.”

  “Why?”

  “Why do I feel bad, or why did I screw you over?”

  “Either? Both?”

  “You and Dax were such rivals. It was…I don’t know. He was so obsessed with beating you, and kinda obsessed with you in general, really. I figured, what was the big deal if your assignment was handed in late and his wasn’t, you know? I didn’t think it would mess with your GPA so much that it would skew anything. Except it did. So, yeah, sorry for being a dick.”

  “It was a long time ago. It doesn’t really matter anymore. Besides, I’m exactly where I want to be.”

  “I still feel bad. We were real assholes, especially me, and I’m not sure I’ve changed all that much. Dax is different, though. He’s a good guy in a bad situation, so I’m hoping we can wipe the slate clean since Dax and I are tight and he seems to like you.”

  “Consider it wiped.” My phone buzzes on the bar top and I glance at the screen. It’s Dax asking me to meet him in the room. “Looks like Dax is done with his fangirls. I’ll leave you to deal with yours, then.” I incline my head to a group of women standing not far away, two of which are looking in his direction.

  “Being Dax’s best friend is as much a blessing as a curse.” He winks and downs his scotch, then raises the glass as the bartender passes.

  When I get back to the room, I find Dax on the couch, shoeless with his feet propped on the coffee table, tie loose and the top buttons on his shirt undone. There’s another panel this afternoon and a dinner we’re supposed to attend tonight. Dax surprised me last night with a very stunning dress, and a pair of heels I tried on while we were shopping but decided were far too extravagant to purchase. Apparently he felt I needed them anyway. But based on how tired he looks, I’m not sure Dax is going to be up for leaving this room anytime soon.

  “Is it too early to start drinking?” His cufflinks clink on the coffee table, and he drapes his shirt over the arm of the couch.

  I check the time. “It’s after eleven.”

  He drops his head back on the couch. “I should wait until at least noon.”

  It’s been an emotional morning; the outpouring of empathy over his loss is heartwarming but also painful and exhausting for him. “Don’t we have a bottle of champagne that we never got around to opening last night? If we have orange juice, I can make you a mimosa, which I believe is completely acceptable before noon.”

  He holds out his hand. “Come here first.”

  I cross the room, still wearing my heels. A few of the girls I used to study with are here and want to meet up for drinks. I wasn’t sure whether Dax would want time with his own friends or not. It seems he’s far more interested in me over everyone else—although I’d attribute that in part to all of the condolences, and how it makes the loss feel fresh again.

  As soon as I’m within reach, he takes my hand and tugs me closer. His eyes roam over me, his fatigue shifting to heat. He sits up, one leg on either side of mine, and runs his hands down the outside of my thighs. “You know what I need more?”

  I thread my fingers through his thick, sandy hair. He really is absolutely gorgeous. It’s no wonder his panel was 90 percent women.

  It wouldn’t have been difficult to convince people we’re just friends this weekend since I don’t quite fit the model type I’m sure most people would picture him with. And while he hasn’t come out and said we’re together, the implication is there in the way he speaks to me, and how attentive he’s been despite the barrage of flirtatious women who constantly surround him.

  He plays with the hem of my skirt. “Did you need to check out my panty situation?”

  “Mmm. I think I do.” He pushes the fabric up my thighs.

  I’m wearing a pencil skirt, but the material has some stretch, so it slides easily, bunching at my waist. I’m wearing black hose with a lacy pattern that goes all the way to the waistband and obstructs the view of what’s underneath.

  He pulls at the hose. “Are these expensive?”

  “Not terribly, no.” I mean, they’re not cheap, but I have a good twenty pairs at home.

  “Do you have more of them here?”

  “I have a pair of nude ones.”

  “No pattern?”

  I shake my head.

  “Hmm. I’ll be careful, then.”

  I’m not sure how to gauge his mood. He’s intense, which I don’t mind in the least. It’s been good to see him like this, in his element with his peers, engaged in something other than Emme. Not that his focus shouldn’t be on her, just that his concern could be smothering if he’s not careful. She’s a teenager; they need privacy just like adults.

  He removes my shoes and then the hose before slipping my feet back into the heels one at a time. He trails his fingers lightly up the outside of my legs and breathes out a groan. “You didn’t buy these on your shopping trip with my sister, did you?”

  “No. I made a special trip.” My panties are sheer with black lace accents, and also a thong, which Dax soon discovers when he cups my ass.

  His gaze flips up to mine, teeth sinking into his full bottom lip. “Turn around for me, baby.”

  I do as he asks and wait a few very long seconds before I peek over my shoulder. His expression makes my sometimes shaky body confidence soar. It’s not always easy to be a short, curvy, dark-haired woman living in a Barbie world, but Dax has a way of making me feel beautiful.

  “Fuck, Kailyn.”

  “You like them, then?”

  I jump when his palms settle on my hips and his lips press against my right butt cheek, followed by his teeth when he bites down. “I love them.”

  He slips his finger under the thin strip of fabric connecting the waistband. A wave of goose bumps flashes over my skin as he drags his knuckle along the divide.

  “Can I tell you something that might make me sound like a complete dick?”

  “If you want to risk it, go ahead.”

  He chuckles and spins me around, resting his chin just below my navel. “When I came to your office to review the trust, I fantasized about shoving your skirt up just like this and fucking you on your desk.”

  Heat blossoms low in my tummy. “And was that the time you were checking for panty lines?”