A Tempting Motion: An Enemies to Lovers, Office Romance Short Story, page 1
A Tempting Motion
A Short Story
Greer Rivers
Contents
A note from the author
1. Theo
2. Britta
3. Theo
4. Britta
Epilogue
Thank you for reading!
Also by Greer Rivers
Acknowledgments
All about Greer
A Tempting Motion: A Short Story
By: Greer Rivers
Copyright © 2020 by Greer Rivers
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, contact greerriverswriting@gmail.com.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
This work concerns a fictional legal case. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents concerning the legal case and its entities are products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. The legal terminology and themes discussed in this work of fiction are written to exemplify the judicial system to the best of the author’s capability and interpretation, however she has taken authorial license over some ideas and interactions for storytelling purposes.
Cover Design: Haelah Rice Covers
Editing and Proofreading: My Brother’s Editor
ASIN: B08NZZ9HXG
Created with Vellum
A note from the author
A Tempting Motion is an 8,000 word enemies-to-lovers romance about a prosecutor and a defense attorney who refuse to back down in the courtroom and in the bedroom. Don’t worry, despite their love/hate relationship these two somehow find an HEA.
This short story takes place in Ashland County, a small, fictional, southern county somewhere in the mountains of the Carolinas. A Tempting Motion is a standalone, but since Ashland County is full of steamy, legal intrigue, some characters may appear in other stories written in the same universe.
A Tempting Motion is a steamy read intended for a mature audience. It contains scenes that may be triggering for some, including, but not limited to, explicit descriptions of sex, drug trafficking, strong language, and physical violence.
Reader discretion is advised.
To all those who fight for love and justice.
Keep doing the damn thing.
Chapter One
Theo
“Better make that a double.”
The blonde’s husky voice has me knocking back my drink to ask for the same. I came straight to this bar from the courthouse when the clock struck exactly five. Hanging my own shingle—starting a criminal defense law firm—sounded glorious until I realized owning a business is hard as shit.
The first, and last, thing I need right now is a distraction, and this stunning angel to my right might be the answer to my prayers. Or my damnation. I’m only two drinks in, so the jury’s still out.
Under the dim bar lighting, I catch a glimpse of copper radiating in her curls. Rosy lips suck around her straw, making me stifle a groan and re-situate the semi forming in my slacks. When I avert my stare from temptation, frost blue eyes meet mine. There’s nothing but heat.
“Wanna buy me a drink first?”
Whiskey goes down the wrong pipe and I punch my chest. The melody of her laugh plays at my expense, and damn if I’m not grinning too.
“Theo.” I nod at her, playing the game where we pretend I didn’t just choke and nearly topple from my barstool.
She tips her drink in my direction. “Britta.” Bringing the glass back to the bow in her lips. “What brings you here?”
My laugh is dry. I used to thrive off this song and dance in law school, but now I’ve got real shit to worry about. Like my innocent client being locked up in prison forever. Never met the heartless bitch of a prosecutor, though our animosity via email borders on hatred.
But this gorgeous vision doesn’t wanna hear about that, and I don’t wanna talk about it. “Work. You?”
“Same. Shapeless pricks trying to dangle their power in front of me.”
“No one likes a limp dick.” I smile before taking a sip.
“You got one?”
Once again, I cough. “One what?”
She smirks and shrugs. “A limp dick.”
My laugh bellows through the bar. This woman catches me off guard, though I’m finding I like being kept on my toes. Much better than the pliant bimbos I used to bed. Still, my eyebrows raise and I smirk before I call her bluff. “Wanna find out, Britta?”
Her beaming grin sends warmth to my hardening cock as she slides off her barstool. Her shapely hips sway to the music while she struts away. I’ve gotten hypnotized by their rhythm when she pauses. “You coming?”
She speaks with confidence, but the timid bite of her lip and restlessness in her posture makes me wonder if this vixen is anxious, too.
I hop off the stool and attempt swagger in my own steps. When I reach her, I trace the zipper down her spine, resting my hand on the small of her back before whispering into soft copper curls.
“Not until you do.”
Chapter Two
Britta
I’m so late for court. Like probably-should-get-fired late. But, oh God, was it worth it.
Never in my life would I have thought I would be the woman bold enough to enjoy a weekend-long sex bender with a stranger. I was a sucker for his midnight hair and baby blue eyes, and before I knew it, there I was Friday night, propositioning the sinfully sexy man in Armani.
After he’d blown my mind in what I’d assumed was the main event, he’d led me from the bar bathroom all the way across town to his bed, where I reveled in being his willing captive up until early this morning.
Worth it.
So now, I’m power walking in three-inch heels to the most important court hearing of my career. No doubt the asshole defense attorney, Mr. William T. Chamberlain, is on time and already in the courtroom. God, I hate him. I’ve never met the man, but I can see the corncob pipe shoved up his ass in every stiff, condescending word he types. In Courier New font. How much more pretentious can you get?
I should’ve prepped this weekend, but I know this case backward and forward. If I hadn’t had the stress reliever sex, there’s no telling what would’ve flown out of my mouth while Chamberlain spoke.
When I barrel through the stately oak doors and Judge Powell glares at me, I rethink the whole “worth it” thing.
“Assistant District Attorney Thoms, we’ve been waiting.”
“I apologize, Your Honor—”
“Britta?”
I stumble at his voice. Just under twelve hours ago, that baritone called my name in a much different setting. I slowly turn toward the defense table to find Theo’s furrowed brow wrinkle into a scowl.
“What are you doing here?” I breathe, hoping against all naïve, stupid hopes he’s not—
“He’s defense counsel, Ms. Thoms. Surely, you’ve met him before, since you both work this case.”
What the hell is going on? How did I not know he’s the defense attorney in the Donahue case? How did he not know I’m the prosecutor?
Unless he did.
A hot wave of embarrassment boils in my stomach. I don’t know what game he’s playing, but I’ll be damned if I let this asshole win, so I address Judge Powell like the goddamn professional I am.
“No, Your Honor. I’ve never met Mr. William T. Chamberlain before.”
I slam my office door, shaking my freshly hung diplomas on the wall, before whipping around to my new nemesis. The lying, conniving William Theodore Chamberlain is calm—relaxed even—and dammit if that doesn’t make me madder.
“So, you’re a prosecutor?”
He makes a small half-turn, as if he can’t already see the entirety of my ten-by-ten foot office.
I toss my laptop bag aside and extricate myself from my stifling blazer, refusing to watch him finish his smart-ass self-guided tour. The roiling humiliation from earlier has vaporized into steamy sweat and I’m well past glistening.
“Like you didn’t know. Why didn’t you tell me you’re a defense attorney?”
The charlatan raises his hands in innocence, those baby blues pleading his case. I wonder how often he uses them to weasel his way out of things.
“I swear, Britta. I had no idea you’re an ADA, let alone on this case. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a prosecutor.”
Offended, I cross my arms. “For the record, you’re not what I expected either.”
“Yeah? What’d you expect?” His cocky smile makes me want to kick him in the shins, stiletto first.
“Well, for starters, I thought you’d be at least eighty years old.”
He’s literally taken aback, which is good because it gives me room to breathe clean air, instead of intoxicating cedarwood and amber.
“Eighty? Why the hell would you think that?”
“Courier New font? It screams octogenarian.”
“Pfft, I happen to like Courier New—”
“—What is this, the 1950s?”
“Goddamnit. Forget it. What’s
My spine straightens so fast it pops audibly. “Why would there need to be a continuance? Is there something I don’t know? Am I dying? Because death is the only thing that’ll kick me off this case, Chamberlain.”
“Oh, gee, I don’t know, Britta. Does this past weekend ring any bells?”
“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” My eyes narrow in warning. “But I’m sure there’s nothing to discuss but this case.” Conversations about relationships, even weekend binges, are my nightmare.
Theo pulls his collar and loosens his tie. “I guess I assumed you’d take yourself off the case. You know… because of our… conflict of interest?”
His plan dawns on me and fury pounds in my head like a migraine. “Is that why you slept with me? To get me off this case?”
Theo looks shocked, but recovers with a sneer. “No offense, but—” He gestures to my diplomas. “You’ve been a prosecutor for, what? Half a minute?” His dry laugh burns my ears, already hot with embarrassment. “You’re not important enough to sabotage.”
I try not to let the truth in his words wound me into submission. Instead, I point my finger at him, imagining I’m digging it into his evil, empty chest. “Whatever. I’m not going anywhere, Chamberlain. I’m as professional as Ruth Bader Ginsburg. What happened this past weekend stays between us, got it? I won’t let a stupid mistake compromise my career.”
Theo steps back, as if my manicured nail met its mark. Although his mouth opens and shuts, nothing comes out until he expels a deep breath. I’m so boiling mad, his warm exhale is cool on my heated skin. He rubs the back of his neck before finally speaking. “Fine. Let’s talk about the case.”
I retrieve the case file to give my hands something to do. “Good. What’ll she plead to?”
“Plead? Come on, you know my client didn’t kill that guy. She has no record and nearly has a heart attack every time she comes to court. There’s no way she’s a murderer.”
I sigh and toss the file aside. “Look, there aren’t any witnesses.” I raise a finger and lift another after each point. “Serena Donahue shot her ex-boyfriend… after fighting with him… behind the strip club where she works… and never denies it.” I wiggle my five points. “What’s the State supposed to do, hmm? Believe her defense attorney on, what? A good-faith basis?” I scoff. “Please.”
I risk a calming inhale and immediately regret it. Theo soaks up the air in this already tiny space. His cologne was my oxygen this past weekend and I’ve been attempting shallow breaths, but my body craves his scent.
“Lack of denial isn’t a confession. There’s more to this, I’ve just gotta get her to talk.” He pauses with his face scrunched and I notice his bottom lip seems swollen. “Are you certain you’ve given me all the discovery? That alley has to be in somebody’s security video.”
It takes every ounce of professionalism I possess not to scream at him. “Of course, you’re still asking about the damn evidence, even though less than ten minutes ago, Judge Powell agreed I’ve turned everything over. How many times do I have to tell you?” I wave my arms for emphasis. “Take a look around, but you won’t find anything. I’ve given you everything I have.”
The bastard smirks. “And then some, I’d say.”
My mouth falls open. His eyes widen, as if he even surprised himself.
“Get out.”
He curses and closes the gap between us. “Britta, I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.” He reaches for me and why I lean into him, is a mystery. But I do. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m an asshole.” The quick stroke of his thumb over my forearm leaves a trail of goose bumps. His touch on my skin reminds me of silk sheets whispering underneath us, wrapped in our rhythm. “For the record, this past weekend was no mistake for me... I don’t make mistakes.”
I ignore how cocky his words sounded and give in to the longing underlying his tone. “Theo…”
He tugs me against him. His scent invades my nose and flows through me, warming my lungs until the heat rests heavy in my lower belly. My hand gravitates to his heart and its rapid beats make mine flutter.
Does he feel it, too? This pull we have toward one another?
“Please, Britta…” He groans, and my gaze darts to his, dark with desire. I’m not sure what he’s begging for, but his prayer brings his lips close enough to caress mine and my tongue slips out to get a taste—
Knock-Knock-Knock. “Britta? You there?”
We’re suddenly on opposite sides of the hundred square foot room, but still inches away from tearing each other apart.
“One minute!” I scramble to compose myself. My outward appearance is still impeccable and only my insides are savaged. I find Theo doing the same. His suit is finely pressed and his posture is laid back, but his eyes have that hunger my core is desperate to satisfy.
The door opens and a colleague pokes his head in. He sees me and smiles before entering. “Hey, Britta, wanted to check on the newbie—Oh, hello.” He straightens after noticing Theo leaning against the guest chair in the corner. “I don’t think we’ve met. ADA Marco Aguilar and federal liaison for Ashland County. You a defense attorney?”
“Guilty as charged. Theo Chamberlain.” He smiles as he introduces himself before awkwardly reaching to shake Marco’s hand. “I represent Serena Donahue.”
It takes me a moment to realize Theo’s hiding his erection behind the tall chair, but when I do, a thrill of feminine pride and flustered panic shock through me. If Marco found out what I was about to let Theo do to me in this government building, I’d be fired faster than the slam of a gavel.
While I’m trying to come up with ways to escape career suicide, Marco and Theo shoot the shit about God knows what. The air in the room is heavy with sexual tension, and I don’t know how the two men aren’t suffocating since I can’t catch a breath.
Don’t mind me. Just on the verge of a nervous breakdown.
“…how long have you practiced criminal law?”
“I just moved here, but I was at another firm outside of Ashland. Still, only a few years now.”
“Ah, I haven’t prosecuted much longer than that. Those first few years, though… whew. I hardly had a life. Took a while to understand what we do matters, but who we go home to matters the most. I’ve learned the hard way.”
Theo’s gaze turns contemplative. “That’s… great advice. Thanks.” He emerges from his hiding place. “Well, I should be getting back to the office. Britta and I are finished for now, right Britta?”
Both men watch me curiously, as they wait for my response. “Yes!” I blurt out, totally natural. “If you need anything, feel free to email me.”
Theo laughs. “Email isn’t enough anymore, I’m afraid. This case is far from over. We’ll see each other again, soon.” Theo winks at me and thank God Marco is behind him. “Good meeting you, Marco.” Theo finally leaves and I can breathe again.
“Nice guy.” Marco points out the door with his thumb. “So, he’s on the Donahue case? How’s that going?”
I nod to shake off my nerves and focus on the conversation with my team lead. “Good, thanks. Judge Powell ruled in our favor today. Chamberlain’s being an ass, trying to get the case dismissed by insisting I’m hiding evidence. He claims the strip club should have security video absolving his client.”
Marco’s eyebrow raises. “And you gave him the whole file?”
I lift the encyclopedia-sized file from my desk and toss it back with a thump. “Yep. Every damn thing I have, he has. He’s just being a pain. The officers on the case were thorough. Burgess would never—”
