Chapter 4

Ben

"Look at me." I give Emmy the soft order, as her back arches off the mattress.
She takes her eyes from my lips and I remember the danger they possess. That they are enriched liquid pools filled with desire. And they trap me like quicksand every time we meet.

I moan and bury myself deeper. "God damn, you're beautiful." 
For the third time tonight, I pound into her with reckless abandonment. Her legs wrap around my waist. Her nails scratch down my chest, over my shoulders and down my back. It's painful and yet addicting. It rises alongside the pleasure of her pussy squeezing against my dick. This is fucking heaven.

Sounds leave my throat that I can hardly recognize as my own and I'm turned on by it. But that's what she does to me. Overpowers my senses. Makes me drown in her gaze. Those intelligent eyes that speak to me. Beg me.

Don't stop, Ben. I'm close.

"Fuck, Emmy." I groan.

She traps her bottom lip between her teeth and nods. The simple action makes my balls tighten.

When she moans my name into the open air, I start to shake. It makes me weak and absolutely powerless to hold off my eruption.
Her eyes make their demand.

Don't stop.

I won't. I don't care how badly my own body aches; I won't stop until she is dripping her essence all over me.

Emmy continues to hold me captive in her brown gaze.

Right there.

Her pussy clenches. Her nails break my skin. The bed rattles beneath us, like the expensive Amish crafted wood is made of mere popsicle sticks.

She lets loose and cries out my name. "Ben!"

"Jesus, fucking Christ. Emmy!" I hiss.

The breathy sound of her voice panting my name is set to ruin me. Sex has never felt like this. It's a fleeting thought that registers deeply. Our sex is on fire. Flames lick across our skin and every time we touch, we burn a degree hotter. And somehow, I want more. I am craving to be scorched.

I have never felt like this. Looking at her makes me realize that too. She looks at me and I can't hold on. I'm falling off the edge. Falling further and deeper with each push of my hips. Further. Deeper.

"Ben." She groans.

I drop my gaze to her mouth and push the pad of my thumb to them. The strangest desire has come over me. I don't want to just hear it. I want to feel her lips say my name. A sexy grin seeps across her lips. Without a second thought she says my name against my thumb before sucking it into her sweet wet mouth.

"Emmy." My voice throbs with need. "Emmy."

She sucks me harder.

"Ben." She says around my thumb.

I feel her leg tighten around me. Her eyes glaze as her climax pulses through her. With her mouth gaping open, she is completely erotic. I fall apart here. The air around us fills with our broken moans and the waning sound of our wet penetration, until there is nothing left but gasps of air that finally fades into silence.

Emmy

I jolt up in the dark. Trapped beneath the heavy veil of sleep, my heart and brain are in a crippling panic. A hurricane of thoughts scatter around my head as I try to understand my nightmare. But as the veil lifts, it slips away like water passing through my fingers.

I squeeze my eyes shut and draw my knees to my chest. Movement rocks the mattress as a gentle stroke of fingers move a long my bare shoulder.

Ben.

His fingers hesitate. Goosebumps rise up in the aftermath of the slight touch and I am reminded that I am not alone. For the first time since I was a little girl, I am not forced to recover from a nightmare on my own. 

In the dark, I peer over at his place in bed. His fingers start up at my shoulder again, sliding down my arm. They urge me to just come to him and let go. I shouldn't be so relieved to seek comfort in his arms. Tonight is temporary. In a few hours we'll need to be client and attorney and he'll know the truth about me. But for now, I twist and allow myself the safety and warmth waiting for me in his embrace.

Ben's arms wrap around me protectively. I feel what the skin to skin contact is doing to him. How hard it's makes his cock beneath me. I'm not impervious to his touch. My pussy has already begun to pulse for him. But neither of us give in to the physical demand. A greater need is making itself known.

I blink against Ben's chest. Our breathing synchronizes. My heartbeat begins to stabilize. A sense of calm like I've never felt before overtakes me. I drift off to sleep with him burying his lips in my hair and my fingers drawing figure eights into his chest.

Ben

Around four in the morning I pull us apart and tuck Emmy into my bed alone. After last night, I need some sort of normalcy and starting the day at this hour is routine.
Cycle. Treadmill. Shower. I'm on a roll and in my home office, drinking my morning coffee at half past five. The problem is that I've only taken two sips before my mind wanders back to my bed. The last place it needs to be. Ethically speaking, I'm up shit's creek.

It isn't unusual for female clients to want to sleep with me. Mothers, daughters, widows, they've all thrown themselves at me because I've been the man saving them or someone they love from prison. Add on the emotional energy tied to each case and it can be a breeding ground for the white knight complex.

All that emotion, all that energy has to go somewhere, and the bedroom is the perfect place to settle out more than a few grievances. I know a lot of lawyers who give in to it. They win a case and bed the defendant, or their sister, or mother before the gavel slams down. It never interested me. But then again, I had my own vice. I would drink my happiness, my frustration and any other emotion I felt. But that led me to some pretty dark and lonely days.

What happened with Emmy last night was my fault. I know she wanted it, but I should have resisted. She's a Chapman and I am a Cornerstone. We're whiskey and beer; the two should never meet. Both of us come from two families of old money that can be traced back through the prohibition days. While my family eventually legitimized their dealings, hers did not.

Since then, all Chapmans have been known thieves, liars and murders. It's a mortal sin for a Cornerstone to even associate with one. And I have done more than associate with Emmy. I committed a Cornerstone cardinal sin. I touched the forbidden fruit. Felt myself in the deepest part of her and felt her in me. Once wasn't enough. I had to go back three times last night.

It's no secret, we have a connection. It's stronger than anything I've ever felt before. And that's dangerous. I can't help her and fall for her at the same time. It doesn't work. Ethically or otherwise. Her letter mentioned her as an accomplice to murder. If what she says is true, one mistake and she could end up in jail for the rest of her life. I don't want that for Emmy. I can push down my feelings, but I can't lose her. I can't put her in harms way either. So, I have to think for the both of us.

I keep my distance all morning, researching as much as I can about her and her family.Around noon, I come up for air and find Emmy seated at the breakfast nook. She looks up from her cinnamon roll briefly. Then her eyes scan the table and realizing that she's eaten most of the sweet dough, she panics. I reach into the fridge for milk with a smile.

"Don't worry," I chuckle filling her glass. "I ate more than my fair share while you were sleeping. I probably have the worst sweet tooth in the city."

I slide the milk closer to her hand. "Here."

She takes it with a small smile and sheepishly sips beneath my watch. And watch I do. I'm not supposed to be fascinated by everything about her and yet I am. But that's why they call it infatuation. The simplest way her full lips touch the glass and the milk slips between them, knocks me off balance.

"Thank you." She replies with a flat hand moving away from her smiling lips.

It's hard to appear unbothered when she's so close and watching me so intently. I need to take control of the situation before what happened last night becomes a real problem. I shake off my nerves moving my flat palm up out and then bringing it back toward my torso.

"You're welcome."

The gesture makes her smile brighten.

"You can sign?"

I lift my shoulders. "Yes, but I'm not good."

"You're wrong. You're very good."

Her compliment makes me grin and a warmth spreads across my chest. I realize that I am in the danger zone again. It shouldn't be this easy for her to enthrall me. Take control. I remind myself tersely.

I lean against the wall and question her abruptly. "Why do you pretend that you can't speak?"

Emmy's jaw ceases movement and she stares up in disbelief. Did she really think, I wouldn't notice? Last night she called out my name. Over and over again. I can't stop hearing it and I don't want to. Still, that doesn't excuse the fact that she can speak and she's been lying about it.

"Everything I read about you said that you were mute and deaf. But I heard you speak yesterday. What�s the point to lying about being able to talk?"

Her smile evaporates completely now. She looks mortified, like I'd thrown the entire tray of rolls in her face. I need my clients to be truthful with me at all times. I can't defend someone without them being as upfront as possible.

Emmy's eyes darken with pain and a memory that I can't see, fills them.

"Mute doesn't equal deaf." She signs. "Deaf doesn't equal mute.�

"I thought--"

She rises to her feet suddenly. "No! You assume. And you think because you googled me that you know me."

"Emmy--" I start but she pulls her gaze away from me.

In the silence I'm left to contemplate just how fast I stuck my foot in my mouth. I run my hand through my hair and squeeze my eyes shut. This is all new for me. I've never tipped toed around a client's feelings before. I say what needs to be said to do the job. And I can't do that with her without feeling like shit.

When I hear her fist pound against the table, my gaze jumps back to the pain etched in her face. It's hard to take.

"Do you know what is like to not be able to hear your own voice? To not know how to say a word? To not know if you are too loud or too quiet?"

"No," I concede shamefully. "I don't."

"You looked me up? Then you should know that I wasn't born deaf. I remember certain sounds and try to emulate them. But mostly I read lips to learn."

I can see the glaze of tears filling her eyes, but I can also see the determination to not let them fall this time.

"My uncle forbid anyone from helping me to speak." She continues after a slow breath. "It kept me dependent on him when I was a child. Made me ashamed as well."

"Emmy...." My heart aches for her.

"I haven't spoken a word since I was a child. I never felt like I was allowed to. I never felt..."

Safe.

She drops her hands leaving the thought unfinished but not the emotion. Every time she spoke yesterday was for me. Once to stop Gray from shooting me and the other times, intimately to me. Damn it. I'm an idiot. She spoke because I made her feel like she could. Like she didn't have to hold back from me. And then I made her remember all the reasons why she felt the need to keep me at a distance.

"I'm sorry." I sign try to joke. "Lawyer doesn't mean smart."

She gives me a half smile. But the light is gone. The wall between us is being rebuilt higher and stronger than before. And honestly, for now, that's for the best. She needs my help, not my heart.

Emmy turns to walk back to my bedroom. I take her and stop her. Startled she faces me. I ignore the rampant need to see if I could taste the vanilla icing on her lips. My mind is made up even while my heart hammers wildly in my chest. I look down at her earnestly.

"I need to know why you're here and exactly what you want me to do for you."

Emmy

I didn't expect what happened last night to last forever, but I had hope it had taken away the mistrust in his gaze. That he had begun to see me as more than just another Chapman. But I see the accusations being hurled at me in his eyes. Apart of him thinks that I'm here to somehow destroy the good Cornerstone name. Maybe even ruin his brother's company. If only it were that simple.

I pull myself free from Ben's grasp. In his bedroom I take out the most important thing I took with me from my uncle's estate. A small flash drive containing every piece of incriminating evidence I have, linking my uncle and myself to his money laundering scheme.

Ben looks on curiously as I make my way to his office and start pulling up the files. One by one. Lists of offshore accounts. Transaction histories. Businesses used to "clean" the dirty money and their distribution points. The last file makes me hesitate. It's marked Ghost List" and in it are all the men my uncle has made disappear.

Hot tears pinprick my eyes as I double click it open. Two names appear there and I can't bear to see them. Over my shoulder, I feel Ben's presence as he looks at the list as well. Most of the names are people already dead and gone.
Ben points to the dates next to one victim's name. I turn to him somberly.

"The dates correspond to the day the hit was carried out and the hitman was paid."

"How do you know?"

I read the question from his lips and swallow the lump in my throat.

"Because I am the one that paid them. I transferred the money every time."

He turns away from me and clicks through the names. The last page are people who my uncle hasn't killed yet. Like I knew it would, one name catches his eye. Alistair Cornerstone. His brother's name is there but there is no date.

Ben's blue gaze grows frigidly cold. I have always been deeply ashamed of the blood that runs through my veins. Even more so now. I wish Ben and I could go back to the library. To when, for the briefest of moments, our last names meant nothing to one another. When I looked at him, I saw happiness. I want to go right back to that moment, when he looked at me and he didn't see a monster.