He’d wanted to hide his temper, but Mia missing the appointment had ticked him off. Despite them having had sex, he did want to help her. If she succeeded after she left, she’d be a great example for others.
She glared at him in silence. If she could kill him with her eyes he’d be six feet under now. He cleared his throat and gestured for her to sit, but she stood regardless. So much for a woman who didn’t play games—she existed all right, but she wasn’t Mia Singer. “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Tell me.”
“You don’t have to pretend you’re interested. We had sex. Afterwards you were worried I’d blackmail you, or use it as leverage, and that hasn’t changed. You’re worried I’ll turn you in. Aren’t you?”
He shoved his fingers into his hair, running them through the locks as if looking for answers. Too many of them flooded his brain. “I’m worried you’re playing games,” he said after a long sigh. Deborah always enjoyed using sex either to get her way, or to withhold it in a silent threat if she didn’t get what she wanted. He’d thought Mia to be the opposite, but after they’d had sex she’d vanished and ignored him. And certainly now, as she stood with folded arms and lifted eyebrow, she seemed angry. “I’m worried you’ll use what we did as a way to hurt me or avoid me. I’m worried even if you come in, you’ll act aloof and distant like before and you won’t let me help you make a successful transition.”
She uncrossed her arms. “Why are you worried about my transition?”
He stepped toward her, although every fiber of his being alerted him not to. Stay away from her. Don’t make the same mistake again. Tension charged between them, and the air shifted. His heart throbbed, and that inexplicable wave of heat that assailed him whenever she inched closer moved through him. “Because I fucking do. I shouldn’t, but I do. Do you hear me?” he said, pulling her to him.
She gasped, and that should have been his clue to let go of her and apologize, but all he managed to do was bring her closer and dip down his head. She breathed heavily, lifting her chin and squared her shoulders. He gazed deep into her beautiful brown eyes, realizing she had so much fight in her. That fascinated and frustrated him in equal measures.
“I have things to do. I can’t waste my time with unnecessary drama,” he said, more to himself then to her. Then, her gaze fell to his lips, and she parted her mouth. He held her a bit tighter, and she moaned. The way she stared at his mouth turned him on, it like she was in some kind of a trance, her long lashes sweeping down her eyes. His groin stirred. “Fuck it.” He crushed her lips with his and found no resistance.
She pulled his head closer, allowing him to deepen his claim of her delicious mouth. He sat her on his desk, and pulled her shirt over her head. She caressed his bulge, and slipped her hand inside his pants. When she touched his cock over his boxer briefs, he groaned into her mouth. He removed her bra and licked her nipples. She threw her head back as she moaned, giving him complete access. “I want to hear you,” he said, remembering the room was soundproof. “I want to hear you scream with pleasure when I fuck you.”
She moaned again in response. His hand traveled lower and slipped into her pants and panties. “You can say whatever you want,” he whispered in her ear, his breath fanning her earlobe, “but your body doesn’t lie.”
He thrust two fingers inside her, and she shook, encouraging him to continue fucking her with his fingers until she sobbed in his arms.
Just when he thought she still enjoying the post-orgasmic bliss, she slid off the desk and kneeled at the floor before him. A mischievous grin formed on her face and reached her eyes. She licked the corner of her lips. “My body doesn’t lie. Neither does yours. You want to shove your big fat dick in my mouth, don’t you, my dirty counselor?”
“Yes.” He unzipped his pants and she pulled them down, along with his black boxer briefs. She smiled when his cock greeted her, and readily brought it into her mouth, sucking it up and down.
God. What’s she doing to me? His knees buckled and he had to will his legs to stay put otherwise, he’d come immediately and fall over. His desire for her weakened him when she wasn’t around, and strengthened him when she was. With her palm, she squeezed his heavy balls. Desire stirred strongly inside him. She held his cock with one hand and continued to lick it. Little growls and groans fled from his mouth, this time a lot louder than they’d been at the shed.
She intensified the rhythm, and pre-cum coated the tip of his cock, the liquid glistening on his skin. When she disengaged for a second, he jerked his dick away and pulled her up. He knew he was about to explode and he preferred to do it within the slick warmth of her tight walls.
“Hey, I’m not done,” she protested.
“You can have more later my cock-sucking princess.” He reached down and grabbed his pants off the floor, opened his wallet, and retrieved a condom. Then, he stretched to his full height and bent her against the desk. His fingers trembled when he tried to rip the foil packet apart and he ended up tearing it open with his teeth. Not since being a teenager did he screw with this little finesse. The only thing that mattered was impaling her. Soon, he nudged her thighs apart and drove inside her.
For the next few minutes, the sounds of their heavy breathing sounded in his brain like some world-famous opera. He thrust into her harder, deeper, looking to hit a feeling equal to an addict’s last fix. A moment that would give him clarity after the reckless banging, and would set him free from the insane sexual spell he’d been under. She squirmed under his weight, and called his name. No matter how hard he plunged into her, his craving for her only increased. And that was a big fucking problem.
Chapter 4
“Trent, a word?” Jack Llewellyn, the warden, popped his head in the staff break room as Trent grabbed some coffee from the machine.
“Sure, be right there,” Trent said. He sipped on some coffee, headed out of the break room and followed Jack.
Jack’s office was the largest of the prison staff, and it had a myriad of pictures of him in hunting gear standing next to dead animals. Behind him, a large window showed the courtyard where some inmates socialized, while others played.
He wondered where his Mia was. Probably working in the garden. He hadn’t seen her for an entire day after her visit to his office. They didn’t have time to talk much because he had another appointment after hers. And, really, if he stuck to his schedule he had no reason to see her until the upcoming week… which killed him inside.
“I need to tell you something off the record,” Jack said.
“Of course.”
Jack fixed his tie and flashed a self-indulgent smile. “There’s a rumor I’m on the short list to be transferred to the board committee.”
“Nice. Congratulations.”
Jack stood and walked up to a shelf where a few scattered awards sat. He leaned on the wall next to it, and Trent smiled inwardly. “Thanks. In the event of me nailing the position, I wanted to know if you’re interested in my job.”
“As a warden?” Trent lifted an eyebrow.
“Yes. I’d recommend you to the board. It’d be a promotion. You’d get more perks, more pay, and be a young warden,” he said, with pride in his voice.
Why not a seasoned counselor like Joseph Carroll? “Why me?” he asked. Sure, he’d accomplished plenty as a counselor, but he’d been at that prison for just a few months. He’d only engaged in a few meaningful conversations with the warden. Usually they talked about inmates, procedures and such.
“Because you’re smart and you actually want to do something good. You’re not going to let the system corrupt you,” he said.
No, the system wasn’t corrupting him—Mia Singer on the other hand…
Guilt punched his core. The affair with Mia could cost him the pristine reputation he’d worked for his whole life. Sure, some guards banged prisoners for kicks, but Trent knew better. Should know better.
Yet I can’t bring myself to stop. Trent cleared his throat. “I appreciate your support, but my real passion
is counseling.” He’d wanted to prove his family wrong when he’d accepted his first job, then his enjoyment for the field grew and experience cemented that vocation.
“Yes, I know. Think how many more people you’ll be able to help. You’ll be the one asking the board for grants and you’ll present your ideas for new programs directly to them,” Jack said with the enthusiasm of a car salesman on a TV ad.
Trent paused. That’d be nice, to have more access to the people who signed checks and called the shots. People who hadn’t been in touch with the pragmatic routine of prisons for far too long, and ended up making decisions based on profit and self-interest.
“I’ll think about it.”
“I fully understand. I just wanted to give you the heads-up. I see a lot of my younger self in you. By the way, are you dating someone right now? Wanda’s younger sister is visiting next week,” he said, referring to his wife.
Shit. “I’m seeing someone.” Not as often as he’d like, but he spared Jack the details.
“If that doesn’t work out, let me know. Wanda’s sister is a real catch. Nurse, about your age, never married. Not that a guy like you needs any help finding dates.”
More guilt shot through him. “Sorry I’m not in the market. She sounds great.”
“You know, when you started here, I had my doubts about you. I have to apologize. I judged you as a pretty boy from L.A. who was overrated. But now I see the improvement in the inmates.”
“Thank you.” Trent surged to his feet. “I should get going, I have a few phone calls to make.”
“Of course, thanks for your time,” he said, and Trent headed out of the office. How could he consider a position that’d only screw him even more if word of his hooking up with Mia ever got out?
Trent took care of a few problems, cut short a meeting he had with some inmates, and made himself some notes about things he should get done but couldn’t because Mia’s low moans kept ringing in his ear. Then he headed out to the garden looking for her.
She was inspecting the rows of vegetable crops in the raised wooden bed, and he bit back a smile.
“Hi,” he said when he stood next to her. Lawrence had told him the one time she’d asked him anything had been when she’d requested to continue her work at the outside garden and green house. Lawrence had agreed, since she truly enjoyed the work and had exhibited sufficient great behavior to earn the perk. Also, he’d approved because having inmates invested in the upkeep meant they didn’t have to hire gardeners and they could use the vegetables and fruits in the kitchen.
She cut some dead leaves from the crop and placed them in a bag. “Miss me already?”
He glanced around them to make sure no one would hear them, and continued, “I can’t lie. Do you know what you’ll do after you leave?” he asked, slipping into the counselor role. As much as he wanted to kiss her senseless, he also wanted to encourage her to keep out of prison.
“Besides enjoying long showers and feasting on better food?” she asked, amusement flickering in her eyes. He wished he could reach out to her and kiss her nose or stroke her hair. His fingers tingled, but he balled them into a fist.
“Yeah. What did you do before you got arrested?” He had those details in his file, but asking her gave him the illusion they were really getting to know each other. Because he really wanted to know every nuance of Mia Singer.
She shrugged, and continued to rip brown leaves. “I worked as an executive assistant at a software firm.”
“I can’t picture you in a dress,” he said.
She curled her lips. “Well, for your information, I wear them well.”
“I believe you. Why don’t you do something with gardening or landscaping when you leave?”
“I hadn’t thought about it. I probably need money to start my own company.”
I have the money. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue but he didn’t voice them. His grandfather had left him and his cousins a trust. He had invested his share of the money in a couple of properties that, thankfully, had gained value over time. He had a good savings account and portfolio. But investing in even a small business for her would kill his career once people found out. That’d make their entanglement obvious. “You can start working for a company, get the necessary training, and take it from there.”
She frowned. “Why are you so worried about what happens to me?”
“Because you’re gifted.”
She lifted an eyebrow. “With my hands?”
“I walked right into that one.” He chuckled. “I care for you,” he said, before he could stop himself from stringing the words together. Shit. He cleared his throat and stretched to his full height. “I mean, I obviously want you to do well.”
“I won’t come back to Leland.”
“How can you be so sure?” Over sixty-five percent of inmates returned to prison. Some didn’t change their ways, and returned to a life of crime and drugs. Others couldn’t change their fate even if they wanted—the ties to their old life or drug addiction were too strong to overcome.
“Because my doing time here has bought my freedom.”
“What do you mean?”
“My ex won’t bother me. I did my part—I took his place in jail and he left my parents and me alone. So, I can start a new life,” she said matter-of-factly, and went to dump the dead leaves from the bag into the black trash can in the corner.
His shoulders dropped a bit as he swallowed hard. Everyone in prison was innocent, according to them. Is she lying to me? Something about the easy way she told him her story convinced him she’d told the truth. His gut clenched. He could fucking punch the bastard who did this to her. “Why didn’t you tell anyone he threatened you?”
She sighed. “It’d be hard for people to believe me when the drugs were in my bag. And if I told on Eddie, he’d hurt my parents and me. I wouldn’t be here today.”
He’d read that name in her file. Eddie Vaughn, a known criminal from Portland, who’d been in and out of county jails throughout the years. “Did you know who he was?”
She gave a sarcastic chuckle. “When I dated him? No. We met at a bar, and he told me he attended school to be an engineer and worked as a bouncer. Drug dealing didn’t cross my mind.”
He swallowed the lump of frustration clogging his throat. “I’m sorry.”
She waved him off, but her eyes didn’t hide her resentment. After all, she’d lost a year of her life because of a bad choice. A bad man. “It’s okay. I got over it. Two more months and I’ll be eating Ferrero Rochers.”
“Ferrero Rochers?”
She bit back a smile, and her eyes seemed lit and no longer sad. “They are small hazelnut chocolates. So good.”
His phone buzzed in his pocket, he touched it as he said, “I have to go.” Leaving her bothered him more than it should.
Mia applied an extra coat of pink lipstick and dabbed some shimmer eyeshadow on her eyes. She wished she wore something sexier than the tired khaki uniform, but she refused to worry about things she couldn’t control. Now, she headed for her session with Trent.
After their chat at the garden, she hadn’t had the chance to run into him. Today, their session would take place at 5:00pm, a lot later than the other ones. A silly part of her wondered if he’d chosen that time because she’d be his last appointment and this way they’d have more time together.
She slapped her face. Get it together, Mia. He’d used her for sex. She represented forbidden fruit, nothing more than a juicy apple to him. Her heart squeezed. Why did a part of her believe there could be more? When he talked to her about her future, he sounded like he really cared about what happened to her.
Was she repeating her awful relationship pattern in jail? Wasn’t it enough she mostly picked the wrong guy, guys who didn’t give her what she wanted or deserved. Guys who used her. Now she’d found the same kind of man in prison.
But being with Trent was like planting a seed in moist soil. It made her feel alive, vibrant, and like she
mattered. She wasn’t ready to give that up. Not yet.
She marched to his office. The moment she spoke into the intercom next to his door, her heart sang like Lady Gaga. He invited her in, and she sauntered into his office. He looked sexy, as usual. She closed and locked the door behind her, and for the first fifteen minutes he’d asked general questions, the same type Lawrence did. Then, suddenly, the light flickered, and a big thumping noise startled her.
“Everything okay?” she asked.
His jaw clenched. Inhaling, he clamped his lips for a moment, then spoke into the small radio attached to his uniform. “Coleman here. What happened? Over.”
“It’s a purple situation in the cafeteria, sir,” the guard said on the other side of the line. She heard some shouting and commotion. “We’re trying to contain the situation. Unless you’re called, stay put. Over.”
A click sound creaked from the door, and she turned to see it. “What’s wrong?” What the hell did purple situation mean?
He lowered the sound from the radio until the static turned into white noise. Shaking his head, he glanced at her. “Inmate fight it seems.” Circling his fingers around, he added, “This is an old panic room, built to protect critical staff in the event of threats. They haven’t been using it since there has been virtually no need, and the warden prefers a nicer office upstairs. So they didn’t update the technology, and when there’s an emergency or someone pushes a certain button, this door automatically locks.”
She swallowed. “But you can open it, right?”
“No, I’ll have to call maintenance. We’ve been meaning to change this.”
Riots hadn’t happened during her stay, so no wonder renovating that door didn’t top their priority list. “What does this mean?”
“This means we’re alone for an unlimited amount of time.” He surged to his feet. “Come here.”
He pulled her to him, and she chuckled. She should be worried about the possible inmate fight happening out there, but the moment his lips descended on hers she shut everything else out. She squirmed, leaning into him for support, her arms linking around his neck like it was the most normal thing in the world. He groaned against her lips, and she reveled in the sexy sounds that escaped his mouth. Oh, how she’d miss those sounds after her release.
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