Literary Arts - The litigator

Kristine Atterbury, Contributor

When I open my eyes, I hear the soft trilling of birds outside. Dim rays of sunlight filter through the slate-green curtains edged with silk-gold threading. I stretch my arms above me and snuggle into the soft satin sheets. Beside me, Jacob's body is warm and comforting, his breathing steady.

I love mornings like this.

I turn to look at him. Such a powerful man when he's awake, yet so much like a sweet little boy when he sleeps. The first time I saw him was in the courtroom on my first day as a legal assistant. He was grilling a witness for the opposing counsel, his eyes flashing, his frame tall and forbidding as he towered over the witness box. I was simultaneously terrified of him and attracted to him.

After the hearing, I waited out in the hallway and orchestrated a way to bump into him as he was stepping out. To my surprise and exhilaration, he offered to take me to dinner. I'm not ashamed to say that I slept with him that first night. Men like Jacob have little patience and I didn't want to scare him off by seeming too childish. Now, I get to see him several times a week. Well, more like three times a week, but for someone with his schedule, that's a lot. He always takes me somewhere romantic and mysterious, like an exotic restaurant out of town, or a quiet hotel in a nearby district.

I look forward to times like this.

His eyelashes are impossibly long, resting delicately against his skin. His face is half buried in the sheets, his pillows kicked to the floor hours ago. One leg is hanging slightly off the edge of the bed, one arm thrown over his head. Unable to resist, I lean over and lightly stroke the soft hairs at the back of his neck.

He makes a noise deep in his throat, and his shoulders tighten as he stretches and rolls on to his side. Slowly, I move closer to him until my body is completely fitted to his, tucking my tummy against his back, and curving my knees behind his legs.

His breathing changes and I can tell he's instantly awake. Even in his sleep he is decisive and quick - at night, he falls asleep instantly and even now I can sense his alertness.

He shifts slightly and reaches one hand behind him. Knowing what's coming, I try to shimmy away and a laugh barely escapes my lips before a strong hand grips the back of my T-shirt and I am yanked from my comfy position, on to my back in front of him. His eyes crinkle in amusement.

"Good morning."

"I hate when you do that."

"You do? Even if I follow it with this?"

He presses a warm kiss to the exposed part of my shoulder where my T-shirt has slipped down.

I love moments like this.

I snuggle against him, luxuriating in the feel of his overnight shadow scratching my cheek. A soft vibrating sound makes both of us pause. Then comes the unmistakable trill of his cellphone.

I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him closer. "Let it ring," I murmur, but he's already getting up, his eyes distracted. He finds his BlackBerry and brings the phone to his ear.

"Yeah."

I strain to listen but his voice is so hushed I can't make out anything he's saying. He stands with his back to me, his shoulders slightly hunched. A sick feeling begins to wind its way through my stomach.

He hangs up, and turns to face me, switching on a megawatt smile as he moves toward the bed.

"Sorry, babes. Where were we?"

He leans down to kiss my stomach as he begins to lower himself over me once more.

I struggle to keep my voice casual. "Who was it?"

"Just the office, nutten important," he murmurs between kisses to my neck.

I cannot stop myself. "How come you were whispering then?"

He freezes, releasing me and getting up from the bed in one fluid motion. He begins to pace around the room, looking for his clothes, his face grim.

"Jacob."

"Don't start with me, Nikki."

I watch him stomp around the room, yanking his clothes off the floor in angry silence. Gone is the sweet, tussled boy from this morning. In his place is the cold, ruthless litigator I first met.

I dread moments like this.

Getting up from the bed slowly, I walk over to him and rest a tentative hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sorry."

He doesn't reply.

"I have no right to question you like that."

"That's right, you don't," he growls, but I can see his eyes softening already. He will always forgive me as long as I admit that I'm wrong.

I bite my lip. "It's just that I don't understand why we always have to meet in this hotel. Why I cyan come to your house?"

His eyes tighten almost imperceptibly. "Are you starting again?"

"No, no." I hastily reassure him. I swallow the rest of my questions and they sit in the back of my throat like a painful lump. I know Jacob could do much better than me. I'm surprised he's still around after five months. It's just hard to deal with the questions from my girlfriends. Why does he always take me out of town? Why don't we ever go out in public together? Why haven't I met his family?

I don't dare voice any of this. As if he can sense my uncertainty, he wraps one arm around me and pulls me close for a fierce, unrelenting kiss. Before I know it, we are back on the bed. He moves slowly, holding me so gently; it is hard to imagine he was furious with me just a moment ago. When he links his fingers through mine, and moves over me, his eyes burning into mine, all my doubts fade away.

"I love you, Jacob."

He responds, as he always does, with a kiss.

I wake to the sound of keys jingling. When I look up, he is dressed, laptop in hand, casting a quick glance at his watch.

"I have to go, babes."

He leans over and presses a kiss to my cheek. "Stay as long as you want, OK."

Without waiting for my reply, he walks briskly through the door. The hollow, empty feeling inside my chest is as familiar as an old friend. I get up, slowly, feeling dazed, and walk over to the window.

His BMW is pulling out of the parking lot and I can see him through the tinted windshield, the phone to his ear, his lips curving in an intimate, suggestive smile. He doesn't see me watching. That smile isn't meant for me.

I lean my head against the window, wondering when I will see him again. Wondering why I want to.

I hate days like this.