Legally Not Yours

The Thick and Unavoidable Tension

POV: Leah

I should’ve been prepared. Mentally, emotionally or spiritually. I should’ve meditated or prayed or walked into oncoming traffic. But nothing could’ve prepared me for being alone in a small glass-walled conference room with Jared Connors.

The second he walked in, sleeves rolled up, jaw tight, confidence dialed to unbearable — the temperature in the room dropped and spiked at the same time.

“Leah,” he said, sliding into the chair across from me like he wasn’t the devil in a designer suit. “Ready to brainstorm together?”

I didn’t look up from the file. “I came to talk about the case. Not your contract.”

“Funny,” he said. “I was thinking they’re both about control, so really, we’re already halfway there.” I bit back the urge to launch a stapler at his face.

“We have a job to do,” I said, opening the litigation summary. “You can either help, or you can keep flexing your insecurity like it’s a personality.”

His grin sharpened. “You’ve been practicing your insults.”

“You’ve been giving me a lot of material.”

He leaned forward. “Don’t get too cocky, Rosewood. I still hold your reputation in the palm of my hand.”

“And I still hold my dignity.”

“Not for long.”

I slammed the file closed. “You’re impossible.”

He stood up, pacing slowly around the table. “Let’s talk strategy then. Plaintiff’s timeline is a mess, witness statements contradict—”

“Oh, now you want to talk about law?” I snapped. “Didn’t realize dominance games were part of the firm’s onboarding process.”

He stopped behind me. I could feel the heat of him just out of reach.

“They’re not,” he murmured, “but God, you make them tempting.”

I turned around so fast my chair bumped the table. We were face to face, breath to breath. One sharp word away from full-blown combustion.

His hand landed on the back of my chair caging me. I should’ve pushed it away, but I couldn’t.

“You like this, don’t you?” he said softly.

“Like what exactly, Connors?” I whispered.

“The fight, the edge. The way it makes your heart race.”

I shoved my chair back and stood. “You’re wrong.”

His hand caught my waist, gently but firmly. “Am I?”

“Don’t touch me.” I yanked away, heart slamming.

“You didn’t flinch last time,” he said, voice low. “In fact, I think you leaned in.”

I stared at him, furious. “You want me to submit, that’s all this is. You want someone to control because your daddy won’t pat your head and say ‘good boy.’”

His smile vanished when he stepped in. Close and even closer.

“You really think this is about control?” he said, voice sharp. “The answer is more simple, Leah. I get off in teaching bad girls like you how to obey,” he said proudly.

“I fucking hate your guts. You’re sick.” I hissed, but he stepped even closer, getting into my personal space.

I backed into the table. Nowhere to go. His hand brushed my hip. Just a little graze. A threat.

My body lit up like a fire alarm, I bursted, “I hate you, Jared.”

“Say it again,” he whispered. “Say it while your pupils dilate and you forget how to breathe.”

I wanted to slap him, wanted to throw this man to hell for being a menace to my peaceful life. I also hated that I didn’t know why he loves bullying me.

Then his face dipped lower. Our lips were a breath apart. Close enough to taste the tension. And just then—the door swung open.

“Hey— sorry, are we interrupting?”

One of the junior partners stood there, blinking, holding a clipboard like a shield. Jared didn’t move right away. Then he stepped back, slow, casual, like nothing had happened.

“Just reviewing deposition notes,” he said coolly. “Really getting into it.”

I was still frozen, face burning.

The junior smiled awkwardly. “Right. Um… just came to check progress. Deadline’s next week.”

“We’re on it,” Jared said. I opened my mouth but nothing came out.

The clipboard guy left and the door clicked shut. Silence. I turned to my notes, hoping to God he didn’t see the color in my face.

“You’re blushing,” he said.

“I’m not.”

“You’re adorable when you lie.” He leaned in, whispering near my ear. “Makes me rock hard.”

I turned my head sharply. “Back. Off.”

“But you almost kissed me,” he said. “Which means you’re losing, Rosewood.”

“I don’t lose.”

He smirked. “Then sign the contract and prove it.”

“Why?” I glared at him. “So you can win?”

“No,” he said. “So we can stop pretending one of us doesn’t want to lose control.”