Forbidden Inmate
Carmen Falcone
Contents
Untitled
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Epilogue
8. Bonus! Chapter One of Forbidden Stepbrother
Acknowledgments
About Carmen Falcone
Also by Carmen Falcone:
The new prison counselor just met his sexiest challenge…
Mia Singer has only two months left before she’s released from jail for a crime she didn’t commit. She had gotten involved with the wrong guy in the past, a mistake she swears she’ll never repeat. However, when she meets her new counselor Trent Coleman, all bets are off. Keeping her hands to herself is damn near impossible.
Trent is the overqualified new guy who’s trying to implement a bold new program at Leland Correctional Facility. Divorced and pragmatic, he hates playing games. He’s never met someone as honest and refreshing as Mia Singer. An affair with her could put an end to his entire career, yet he can’t keep his hands off of her.
With her release looming, will Trent let her go, or will he be imprisoned by unexpected feelings?
This book is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any locales, or persons living or dead is coincidental.
Copyright ©2017 Carmen Falcone. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, and transmit in any form or by any means. For information on subsidiary rights, please contact the author via her website: www.carmenfalcone.com
Edited by Wolfe Ross Editing
Cover design by Sweet & Spicy Designs
Manufactured in the United States of America
First Edition March 2017
Created with Vellum
To my fabulous Review Divas & Dudes group! Thank you for your support.
Chapter 1
“Inmate, take off your shirt,” Trent said when she entered his perfectly organized office. “A source told me are in possession of contraband lingerie and I need to make sure that’s not the case.” His voice dropped an octave, sending little thrills of excitement through her.
Mia Singer stared into his gaze. His deep azure eyes had a hypnotizing effect. The irises were fiery cobalt, but little flecks around it hinted at a gentler blue. He gestured with his index finger, and she removed the ugly khaki shirt over her head. When she had removed it completely, the little hairs on the back of her neck stood on end.
She knew she shouldn’t ogle, but her eyes skimmed the impossibly tall, broad shouldered hottie who belonged in a Hollywood movie—a thriller rather than a rom-com.
Trent slid his finger down her neck, and she quivered. She sucked in a breath, causing her tingling breasts to rise. Her nipples tightened against her bra. “Like what you see?”
“No man will ever turn down a red lacy Victoria’s Secret,” he said, his gaze gliding between the valley of her breasts, making her heart flip in her chest. “But it’s still wrong to sneak in unauthorized merchandise.”
She unhooked the clasp of her bra, and lifted her chin in defiance. “Maybe there’s a way we can work toward a common ground?”
He pushed her against the wall, and the bra slid off her arms. Her breath caught in her dry throat. “I’m all for common ground, Singer. So much so, I want to finish this conversation on the ground. Naked.”
He touched her tits, and she gasped. His hand was strong, manly, commanding. Her pussy clenched.
He’d screw her good. A jolt of anticipation moved through her body. And, for once, she’d let him—
An annoying sound rang in her ears. Mia pressed her lips together to prevent an inconvenient moan from escaping. She clutched him tighter against her to keep him from vanishing, yet the noise persisted, and when she looked up, he was gone.
Well, crap.
Startled, she opened her eyes and glanced around.
The stupid prison alarm yanked her from her reverie.
Mia had never been a morning person, but five a.m. pushed the limits. She heard her other three bunkmates mumble something and just nodded.
To confirm her sad reality, she peeked into her shirt and found the faded beige bra instead of the Victoria’s Secret lingerie. At least the yucky underwear stayed the hell out of her fantasy—she called them birth control fabric.
What the hell? She’d done most of her time. She’d survived fifteen months at a federal minimum-security facility, and in two more months she’d be out.
Over the past twelve weeks, her life had changed dramatically. Her counselor Mr. Lawrence retired, and newcomer Trent replaced him. She’d started having forbidden fantasies including Trent and, at times, she wondered if he knew. Whenever she’d go for their weekly sessions, she’d shift in her seat, restless, crossing and uncrossing her legs, trying hard to conceal the delicious ardor burning her insides. Whenever he’d asked her anything, her answers were monosyllabic and vague. He must think I’m crazy. Though, hadn’t she caught him staring at her in silence? She swore a time or two his gaze slid down her neck and a smile curled at the corner of his sexy mouth.
“Whatcha thinking about, Singer?” Jessica Thomaz, one of the older inmates, asked. “You seem worried.”
“Oh.” She waved Jessica off. “Nothing. I’m good.”
In the morning, she went through the motions of sharing the bathroom with another twenty inmates in the midst of showering, brushing teeth, and slapping on whatever minimum makeup Leland Correctional Center approved. Afterwards, she headed to the outside garden. Every few months, they rotated jobs so everyone learned new skills. The garden had been her favorite job so far. She loved being outdoors, touching dirt, and planting.
Before her appointment with Trent at the end of the afternoon, she managed to stop by her bunk and put on some lip gloss, clean herself up, and brush her teeth. During her stint in jail, she’d succeeded at going against her every instinct. Being invisible turned into her survival method; it helped her keep out of fights and she even managed to make a couple of friends. Leland had suffocated her so much she’d have to relearn to breathe on her own once she left.
She inhaled and read the sign in front of his room: Trent Coleman. The golden plaque was the only delicate thing about it. The door was a lot sturdier than the others in the hallway, and, unlike the others, didn’t have a clear window to peek inside.
She smoothed down her hair, hoping her usually straight bob wouldn’t get all frizzy. At least summer had just ended. God, the humidity never favored fine hair. She clicked the intercom. “Mr. Coleman, it’s me,” she said, then quickly added, “Mia Singer.”
“Singer. Come in,” he said through the intercom. She pushed the rather bulky door and entered his space.
Mr. Lawrence would often sit on his chair, rocking it back and forth as he spoke. He occasionally fussed over his glasses as he talked to her, but he never treated her the way Trent did. Trent waited until she sat on the chair across from him before taking a seat, and sometimes she imagined what kind of fabulous date he’d be. He’d probably bring flowers and excel at lovemaking. In her wet dreams he rocked at any and every sexual activity.
“You wanted to see me?”
“Yes. We’re experimenting with something new: we’ll be more hands-on before your release. I want to make sure inmates like you, who have had good behavior during their stay, have everything needed to succeed after you’re released. So I’ll see you more often to give you the confidence you need to brave the world,” he said. She assumed ‘inmates like you’ also meant without prior convictions and had commi
tted non-violent crimes.
“You talk like I’ve been tucked away in some post-apocalyptic underground. I can watch Modern Family in the TV room,” she said, and to water down the unplanned sarcasm in her voice, she smiled.
He cleared his throat, and his eyes flew to hers. He held her folder, but didn’t open it. She shifted in the chair, and wished the stomach sinking sensation would stop. Why did they need the extra sessions? Every time she sat in front of him, a crazy lust overpowered her, leaving her two options, staying silent or acting on it. How much longer will I be able to keep this up?
For an endless minute, their gazes connected. She had no idea what exactly he said to her without words, but her unsexy panties melted in anticipation.
Finally, he opened her folder and said, “In over a year you’ve only received a couple of visits. What’s up with that? Do you have anyone to go back to?”
She blinked, and shook her head. “Why does it matter?”
“Inmates do better when they have a support system after they leave,” he said steadily.
“My family… I love my parents, but I asked them not to come. I know it hurts them to see me here.” Besides, her elderly parents deserved better. That had been why she’d ended up at Leland, to make sure nothing bad happened to Tina and Charles Singer. Her time at Leland meant they’d enjoy their retirement alive and in good health.
He ran his fingers through his short-textured hair and gave her a once over that lingered. Her heart throbbed at the base of her throat. Did she see a silver fleck in his eyes, or was she imagining things?
“I understand.” He squared his shoulders, stretching the navy blue uniform. “How about a significant other?”
Did he need her to spell things out? She’d dealt with a lot of humiliation in the past year. Her body belonged to the state, pretty much. She couldn’t do a third of the things she’d wanted to. Yet, his persistent personal questions stung her like a bee in the darkness. “I… you must know by my file what happened to me,” she said, producing the kind of neutral smile that usually worked when her bunkmates asked her about her opinion on shit she completely didn’t agree with.
“You confessed to dealing drugs and worked a plea deal for lesser time.”
If only it’d been that easy, but she’d learned nobody cared for the truth, and in her case the truth hurt her. She’d chosen to take the guilt, because fuck it, she’d been the idiot who dated a guy with a rocky criminal past. She’d expected him to change, but she’d been the one who had changed. Prison had been her punishment, but not for the crime people believed she committed.
“There’s something different about you, Singer. You’re not an addict. You managed to stay out of and avoid any kind of fights. Lawrence said good things about you. I have been seeing you for three months, yet I can’t get through,” he said, leaning closer, and if the desk didn’t separate them she’d be nervous. Very nervous.
She pushed down the lump of apprehension in her throat. “Does that mean anything? Does being reserved keep me from leaving in two months?” She hated how defensive she sounded.
He ran his fingers down his face, and sighed. “No. It keeps me from doing a better job.”
“I won’t tell. Not that my opinion means anything, but if anyone asks I’ll say you’re wonderful.”
“I used to work at a correctional facility in Los Angeles. Trust me, I’ve seen it all. What are you hiding?” he said, his voice lowering and sending chills down her spine.
God. Mr. Lawrence never asked these Freudian inquisitive questions. He filled out his paperwork and sent her on her way. Why did this man want to analyze her as if she was some rich housewife whose husband died under suspicious circumstances? “You make me uncomfortable.”
A flicker gleamed in his eyes like she sparked his interest. “Why?”
“Because you’re good looking,” she blurted out. He’d asked, hadn’t he? And complimenting him would hardly get her in trouble. Her shoulders dropped with a measure of relief, like she just shared a dirty secret she found impossible to keep. She had never told a soul about the crazy attraction she felt toward him. She’d stayed quiet while the other inmates commented on Trent’s perfect ass or thick biceps.
He frowned and leaned in his chair, maybe unsure of what to make of her comment. “Good looking people always make you uncomfortable?”
“No. Just you,” she said, unable to hide her accusatory tone.
“Why?”
“Because if we weren’t in here, if we had met under different circumstances… I’d want to date you. Sleep with you. I’m not saying you’d date me, but I’d at least try. That thought doesn’t leave my head when you’re around, which is why I have to watch every word so I won’t let it slip accidentally,” she said, and her hand flew to her lips. Shit. What had she done? Damn it, Mia. You started out so well.
Cold sweat slicked her palms. Unfiltered, brutally honest Mia didn’t belong at Leland. And honesty certainly wouldn’t do her any favors in a session with her appointed counselor.
Tension crackled in the air. She parted her lips but no sound came out. Should she apologize? I complimented him, how’s that breaking any laws? She drew in some air.
Trent watched her in silence for an instant that stretched into eternity. What if he sent her to the maximum-security unit as punishment? She’d never gone but had heard stories that place made suicide a viable alternative. “We’re done for today. Please sign here,” he said, giving her a pen and the piece of paper to confirm they’d had a session.
She scribbled her name and stood. He stood too. She sighed, how embarrassing. She clenched the pen, clicking the top. Anxiety thrummed in her veins and she dropped the paper when she motioned to give it to him. She quickly fell to her knees and grabbed it, and surged upright again. “Here,” she said.
“The pen.” He pointed at the pen she still clenched.
“Oh. Sure.” She loosened the grip on the pen, opened her palm so he’d get it and hopefully not notice her hand trembling. He placed his hand on hers to make the exchange, she expected him to move away quickly, but he didn’t.
She swallowed. His eyes pinned her in place, as if she could escape from that sexy mysterious gaze. She opened her mouth but hesitated, not trusting herself to speak. He made the slightest move, his finger making a pattern over her palm. The touch belted an erotic reaction through her, searing her insides and tightening her nipples so much they ached.
“Leave.” He hissed out, though the look in his eyes invited her to stay.
Mia surged to her feet, then willed her legs to move and strode out of the room. An inappropriate degree of hope rushed through her. This time, she didn’t just suspect, but felt deep in her soul, he watched over her as she left.
She had the reassurance that, right or wrong, Trent was attracted to her. And she couldn’t wait to find out what he’d do about it…
Chapter 2
“Coffee?” Joseph Carroll, a prison counselor who had been working at Leland for at least a decade, asked Trent.
“Nah I’m good,” Trent said. Ever since the previous day when Mia had tempted him with her clumsy confession, he had enough adrenaline in his bloodstream. Trent fumbled with his belt buckle and walked back and forth in the break room.
Mia Singer.
During the past three months, Mia Singer had proved to be his greatest challenge. He’d wanted to help her, especially after harboring the feeling she didn’t belong in prison like most of the inmates.
She isn’t like most inmates. He’d kept his attraction for her inside an imaginary vault for months. Knowing she reciprocated it shouldn’t change a thing, damn it. His goal was to assist her—not fantasize about fucking her against the wall or over his desk.
Moisture evaporated from his throat, and his shoulder blades tensed inside his navy uniform. The mental image of luscious Mia naked, looking at him over her shoulder squeezed the oxygen from his lungs.
“Trent,” Joseph shouted. “Are you okay? You
’re restless.”
No shit. Trent blinked. Inmates had hit on him before, and he usually changed the subject and took it in stride. “Yeah, too much on my mind, sorry. What were you saying?” He stopped moving around.
“My daughter is selling cookies for a school fundraiser and I hate to ask, but my wife—
“Sounds great. Put me down for a case of those. Whatever flavor she recommends,” Trent said, walking to the door.
“Oh really?” Joseph’s chubby face lit up. “Thanks man, I’ll bring them tomorrow.”
Trent lifted his hand. “No worries.” He’d probably give those out. Sweets had never been his weakness. Until Mia.
His heart skipped a beat. He returned to his office, and ran his fingers through his hair. He answered some emails, skimmed over some notes but stopped when his mind disconnected with his eye. Didn’t matter if he started out reading a report or memo from the prison warden. A couple of minutes into it, Mia’s bow shaped lips and sexy, challenging chestnut eyes stole his attention.
He rocked back in his chair and ran his hand down his face. His cock strained against his pants, and he wondered if he went to the en suite bathroom and jerked himself off, if it would take the edge off.
Unlike the other counselors, his office had a bathroom. Not because his space had more glamour or he ranked higher in the field. His office had once been a panic room, but was converted when Leland expanded. The space was soundproof, and folks had to use the intercom to come to appointments when his door was closed.
Switching to a regular working space would demand time and money. Trent glanced around the beige colored walls and sighed. His cell phone buzzed, and he reached for it across his desk. His mother’s remarkable face with a hint of a smile showed on his screen, and he let out a deep sigh before accepting the call. “Hi, Mother.”
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