The jury barely needed any time to converge, returning after only a few minutes. Despite your confidence in your argument, you found your leg bouncing nervously, jostling your robes. You bit your bottom lip subconsciously, wanting nothing more than for the judge to hurry up and call the case.
“Nervous?” mouthed the prosecutor across the room, cocky smile twisting his full lips.
You tried to ignore how his broad chest pulled the fabric of his suit tight across his body, clinging to every muscle, outlining his godly figure. How was it even legal that someone like him was a prosecutor? You could feel the weight of his gaze on your body, burning and heavy, and you suddenly felt as if your mouth was very, very, dry. All you could do was scoff and turn to face pointedly away from him.
The corner of his mouth lifted as if he knew what you were thinking. Cocky bastard.
Both of you straightened as the judge cleared his throat. “Members of the jury, have you reached a verdict?”
The jury spokesman stood hastily, dotting the sweat beading at the edges of his receding hairline. “Y-yes, your honor.”
The judge glanced upwards. “Members of the jury, on the Case of Korea v. Park, what you say?”
“Your honor, the members of this Jury unanimously find the defendant NOT GUILTY of first degree murder.”
You let out a loud breath, lungs burning, but it was drowned out by the appreciative cries of your client as she threw her arms around you, tears of joy streaming down her face.
“Thank you, thank you, thank you,” she shouted, voice muffled by your hair. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” She repeated it over and over again like a mantra, no amount of words able to truly encapsulate the euphoric feeling. She hugged you one last time before running out of the courtroom, undoubtedly to tell her family the good news.
Despite having won your first big case, your thoughts kept wandering back to that sinfully attractive cocky prosecutor; you kept thinking about those long fingers digging into your hair, those full lips pressed against your throat, and that tousled mess of hair that you wanted nothing more than you thread your fingers through while pulling him closer, deeper into your body. “Agh,” you hissed to yourself, fingernails digging into your palm as you walked down the hall. You could feel your cheeks reddening. Couldn’t you have been attracted to anyone else? You reached up and pulled your hair out of the restraining bun so it cascaded down around your shoulders.
“Good,” a voice behind you said, “it looks better down.”
You whirled in surprise. Speak of the fucking devil. There he was, godly proportions, signature arrogant smirk and all, right in front of you. Why do bad things happen to good people? “Shouldn’t you be off somewhere mourning the case you just lost?” you asked, trying to ignore the insidious thoughts invading your mind as you drank in his appearance. He was even more attractive up close like this, the musky scent of his cologne filling your senses.
His eyes darkened slightly, smile a bit more wolfish. “Beginner’s luck.”
Anger sparked in the pit of your stomach, burning from the inside. “Or was it your incompetency as a prosecutor?” you asked lightly, cocking your head to the side and feigning innocence. “It seemed that way when I destroyed your argument in court.”
