Page 48 of Unbalanced

Emily sucks in a breath, then stops breathing altogether.

“Just high heels, perhaps.”

My lips trace over her pounding pulse, and I nip the spot under her ear. Emily whimpers, and it’s like fucking catnip to my system.

“You’re creative. I’m sure you can think of something.”

“Alden…”

I shiver when she says my name. What the fuck is it about her that drives me crazy? My lips brush across her cheek until they hover over hers.

Releasing the shelf, I place the card into the palm of her shaking hand and then close my fingers around hers so she doesn’t drop it.

“I’m not a charity case, Alden,” she says, eyes narrowing at me.

“Is that really how you think I see you?”

Emily opens her mouth to answer, but my office door opens, and Rochelle coughs loudly. Predictably, Emily bolts like a terrified deer. Annoyance fills me when Emily looks at me and leaves the card on a decorative table. She excuses herself past Rochelle and vanishes.

I glare at Rochelle.

“Don’t you glare at me. What the hell are you doing, Alden?”

Marching over to the credit card, I swipe it off the table before stomping back to my desk.

“What I do in my personal life is none of your concern.”

“Oh, come off it, Alden. You hate cheaters. You’ve made it your mission to destroy cheaters in court.”

I sit down, but my fucking cock is still standing straight, making it awkward and uncomfortable.

“I’m not cheating,” I growl. “And neither is she.”

Rochelle marches closer and crosses her arms.

“Yes, how convenient that the party standing in your way is dead.”

“What the hell are you trying to say?”

She huffs and rolls her eyes.

“Fine, it’s not cheating, but your brother hasn’t even been buried. I spent all day making arrangements for his service, and you’re already flirting with his girlfriend.”

“Ex-girlfriend,” I correct, the distinction important to me.

“Barely. Can you at least wait to fuck her until after the funeral? I shouldn’t have to be the one to tell you that feeling up your brother’s ex-girlfriend a mere forty-eight hours after he died is in really poor taste. And rumors like that run rampant faster than an STD at an orgy.”

“Thank you for the vivid visual, Rochelle,” I snarl.

I swipe the pen off my desk and tap it off the top of the shiny black surface in time to the pounding of my heart. What annoys me more than anything is that Rochelle is right. But when Emily is near me, I struggle to keep my own rules in check.

“Fine, I’ll keep my distance…for now.”

With the same abrupt flourish as she arrived, she is gone again. My office door swings closed. I really shouldn’t have gone with glass.

Fuck.

Opening my laptop, I hunt for my next victim. The large online support group for spouses who have been cheated on is where I find many of my clients. It is also the perfect hunting ground. With nearly a half million members from all over the world, it is a sea of complaints and grieving souls.