One Taboo Night – Dangerous Devotion Read Online S.E. Law

Categories Genre: Alpha Male, Bad Boy, Erotic, Taboo Tags Authors: S.E. Law Advertisement

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I perch at the edge, careful not to let my skirt ride up past indecency, and sip the champagne. The bubbles are tiny, the flavor like apples and something else, something expensive. I smooth my hands over my lap, double-check that my blouse is still covering the essentials, and make a mental note that I’m here. I’m excited. And I can’t wait for the evening to begin.

Brent watches me from the bar, pouring two fingers of whiskey into a crystal tumbler. He doesn’t talk, just studies me, blue eyes tracing my throat, my mouth, the way my legs cross and uncross. It’s not the cold, analytical gaze of a boss. It’s more intimate than that. It’s the look of a man who’s read the blueprint and is now planning the demolition.

“Nice shoes,” he says after a long silence.

I look down, startled. “Thanks. The stilettos are new.”

“They look like trouble.”

I feel the urge to say something clever, but my brain short-circuits. “That’s the idea,” I hear myself say.

He smiles, the kind that crinkles the edges of his eyes. “Good.”

There’s a buzz at the door. Brent strides over, opens it without breaking eye contact with me, and James steps in.

James is in charcoal slacks and a black T-shirt, the sleeves hugging biceps that are, frankly, absurd for a lawyer. His hair’s a little mussed, like he just rolled out of a fight or a bed. He’s carrying a battered leather folder, thick with documents.

“Evening, sweetheart,” he says, dropping the folder on the glass coffee table with a thud. “It’s good to see you.”

“Hi,” I murmur. “Nice to see you too.”

James’s black eyebrow goes up. “Nervous?”

I shake my head. “No, of course not.”

He sits, sprawling out next to me, close enough that our knees almost touch. Brent brings over his whiskey, sits on my other side, and the three of us form a loose, charged triangle. For a minute, no one speaks.

Then James says, “You want to see it?”

I look at him, not sure if he means the evidence or something else.

He nods to the folder. “The stuff about your father.”

I reach for it, but before my fingers touch the leather, James catches my wrist, gentle but immovable.

“Not yet,” he says, voice dropping an octave. “Let’s have a drink first. For courage.”

He lets go, but the imprint of his hand lingers, a heat that crawls up my arm and settles in my chest.

Brent pours a fresh flute of champagne and hands it to me. “To truth, whatever that is,” he says.

James raises his glass. “To honesty, even when it’s ugly.”

Oh shit, why are they speaking in riddles already? Nonetheless, I take a drink. The champagne is sweeter this time, or maybe my tongue is numb.

Brent leans in, his thigh pressed against mine, and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “You know you can still walk away.”

I shrug helplessly. “You both keep saying that. I’m starting to think you want me to.”

James smirks, his teeth gleaming in the low light. “Sweetheart, if we didn’t want you here, you’d know.”

I look at them: Brent, all contained power and careful distance; James, loose and hungry, his eyes never leaving my face.

The tension is a live animal, pacing just under the surface.

I cross my legs again, my skirt riding up an inch, and both men watch the movement like cats eyeing a canary.

I take another drink, draining the glass. “Okay,” I say. “Let’s see what you have here.”

James opens the folder and flips through the pages. He extracts a single sheet and places it in front of me, careful not to touch my hand this time. It’s a witness statement, the signature at the bottom blurred out. I lean in, tracing the lines with my finger, scanning for the clue that will redeem my father or destroy him completely.

The men watch me read. Brent’s hand rests on my knee, casual, but it’s a promise and a warning at once. James sits back, arms folded, his gaze more tender than I expect.

I look up. “Why are you giving me this?”

James shrugs. “Because you earned it.”

Brent says, “Because you’re brave enough to want the truth.”

I read another page, and another. My throat goes tight; my eyes sting. I blink hard, refusing to let tears fall.

“Thank you,” I say in a choked voice, and I mean it.

James closes the folder, then takes my empty glass from my hand, his fingers brushing mine. “We’re not monsters, Marnie. Just men.”

Brent’s grip tightens on my knee, then lets go.

I sit back, heart pounding, the evidence heavy in my lap.

For a minute, we’re just three people on a sofa, no office, no city, no past.

Then Brent says, “Are you ready?”

My body says yes before my mouth can catch up.

I glance at James, who gives me a slow, knowing nod.

“I’m ready,” I whisper.

And there’s no turning back because our taboo night has finally come … and I can’t wait.


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