She expressed her interest in them both to Duke at the time, hoping something might come of it, but neither Warrick nor Colton had approached her thereafter or sought her out. Which didn’t mean she’d given up. Not quite yet.
If Duke was matchmaking—and that seemed likely—Warrick, and his best friend Colton, apparently hadn’t been interested enough to contact her. His tone today conveyed additional disinterest or anger or both.
However, that also didn’t stifle her desire one single bit. Knowing Warrick and his dark appeal was even a mere possibility had given her fantasies quite a rush of new material whether he was interested in her or not.
In her many varied dreams, in both day and at night, she’d had sex in quite a number of places with Warrick. The prosecutor’s table at the main courtroom, her candlelit bedroom on silk sheets, and once at the grocery store as a neatly stacked end cap of oranges cascaded around them when he pushed her backward against it because the Warrick living in her imagination couldn’t wait a second longer to fuck her.
In her wicked dreams Warrick was very forceful. Isabelle had wondered more than once if he was as vigorous during sex in real life. She’d love to find out. Of course with him currently in scent distance and conveniently pressed fully to her body, her vivid fantasies started to replay in her head without warning. Cue the sultry music.
Isabelle tried, but couldn’t get the vision of the two of them fucking wildly out of her head. What was indeed wrong with her?
She forced herself to blink, breaking the intense stare they shared, wondering what he was thinking. Was he anxious to get away from her? Had he already considered her and discarded the notion they’d ever be intimate for some unnamed reason?
If so, shouldn’t she be allowed to plead her case? And what would she say? “Please give me a try. I’m not very experienced, but I’m certainly willing to undertake new endeavors, especially any dark prosecutor fantasies you might have.”
Isabelle forcefully dropped her gaze to his chest, more specifically his designer power tie. It was a dark red with a subtle pattern. His charcoal suit fit him like it must be tailored specifically to his amazing body.
In the hallway behind her, she heard the cough again, only this time it was farther away. She stiffened and reflexively clung to Warrick again, certain a fearful expression shaped her features. Total scaredy cat. He probably thought she was too weak for his lustful tastes.
Warrick’s focus went away from her face and over her shoulder. He must have heard the cough, too. At least she wasn’t hearing things in her crazed state.
“Why don’t you to come to my office for a few minutes?” he said in a low tone.
“Your office?” Yes, please!
“Yes. You’ll be safe there. I promise.”
She nodded, grateful he’d offered her a sanctuary. She needed to get to work, but sincerely didn’t want be all alone with Mr. Chronic Cough lingering around as she headed to the lonely parking lot. Which was completely dark now, and lit with only a few streetlights.
Warrick stepped away, and she missed his warmth the moment their bodies were no longer connected front to front. However, he half embraced her as they moved down the hall. With an arm securely wrapped around her back, Warrick gently guided her toward the way he’d just come.
Isabelle fought the valiant urge to snuggle closer. He opened the very next door they came to—the one with his name painted in fancy letters on it—letting her go inside ahead of him.
She stepped into what was probably his receptionist’s office, but it looked like whoever that was had already gone for the day. Warrick closed the main entry behind him. He gestured to another partly open door across the room.
His private office?
Isabelle walked a few steps, crossed the threshold into the new space, and was instantly assaulted with his scent. If she’d been blindfolded, she’d know it was his office by the way it smelled. Delicious.
She relaxed a notch, hoping for an opportunity to change the stern prosecutor’s mind about her. Her fanciful thoughts raced away to discover new and exciting ways to be forward and see if he’d engage. Should she try to seduce him? Maybe. After all she’d endured today, a reward was in order, right?
Best of all, Isabelle would not only be safe here from any wandering, coughing, ax-wielding murderers in the building, she’d have a chance to sway the prosecutor to her prurient desires. If nothing else, Isabelle wanted at least one kiss. Even if she had to instigate it.
Would Warrick be secure from her already well-thought-out and mentally rehearsed fantasies?
No. Not at all.