Shades of Sexy (22 page)

She twisted to look at him. “What?”

He swatted her ass and she flinched. “Bend over and lean on the seat.”

Understanding flashed in her eyes and she gave him a smoldering grin.

She moved into place and draped herself over the seat, leaving her backside exposed.

He slid a finger along her glistening red folds and she shuddered. Then he spanked the white orbs. And again. Her moans heated his blood. He couldn’t wait another second to take her. After one more slap, he tore open the condom packet and rolled it over his hard-on.

Gripping her hips, he angled his cock against her slit and dipped it inside. God, she was so warm and snug and wet. A little deeper and he felt her move her hips toward him. He thrust farther and she tightened her pussy around him.

Stroking harder, he gritted his teeth, struggling to hold back. But the more he tunneled in and out of her, the more difficult restraint became.

“Oh, Nick, Nick. It’s. So. Good.” She let out a long, deep sigh and he recognized the signs. She was as close as he.

Delicious, hot pressure built in his balls. Her cries sent him over the edge.

“Yes, yes, yes. Fuck me hard, Nick.”

He gave her everything he had, pounding into her as she screamed her delight. He came in a white-hot explosion of ecstasy. Pleasure snaked through him in a blissful deluge. When he stopped moving, he bent over her, leaning on her, breathless. She constricted those muscles she used so well, milking every last drop of lust from him.

He kissed the dewy skin on the nape of her neck. And he knew. She’d be riding with him for a long time to come.

###

Belle Behind Bars

Dedication

Dedicated with love to the head of R&D, my husband Dana, who is always so willing to help with research.

Chapter One

“Bitch stole that promotion.”

“Should have been you, Sarge.”

“Yeah. Affirmative action bit you in the ass. We all know you’d have made a better lieutenant than Isa-Bitch Buchanan.”

“At least she’ll be working in administration and not here. I don’t know about anybody else, but I’d have a big problem working under a lieutenant who has no business being one.”

“Let’s talk to the union rep. Gotta be something he can do.”

Sergeant RJ Ramsey scanned the angry faces of his officers in the shift briefing room of the county jail. “Nobody’s going to call in the union rep on this.” Sure, he was angry Isabel was promoted rather than him, but there was nothing he could do about it. Didn’t matter that he had twice as many years on the job as she did. The woman had a college degree and that mattered to the chief. She was also damn intelligent. He’d discovered that when they’d gone out few times two years ago. Intelligent and sexy. But he’d been in the midst of his divorce then and his ex had soured him on women in general.

He’d run into her at a party a few months later and she’d given him the cold shoulder. Of course, Belle had a reputation for giving every man—at least those she worked with—the cold shoulder. Forcing an image of the petite brunette from his head, he set his hands on his waist, stepped out from behind the lectern and made eye contact with every officer in the room. “None of you should have a problem working under any supervisor. You get an order, you follow it. That’s the way this job works. Are we clear?”

A few grumbles circulated among the mostly male group of about sixty officers. He made eye contact with each of the men who’d had a comment about the promotion.

“I heard the chief plans to shuffle the managers around again. There’s always a chance she’ll end up here,” Officer Giles said. “Not only as our boss, but as yours too, Sarge. If she gets the job, that is.”

He doubted that. Belle had been an administrative sergeant for most of her career at the jail. The chief wouldn’t put a paper-pusher in a hands-on operational position, particularly not for the graveyard shift. Wouldn’t make sense.

The door opened and all the heads in the room turned to see who was there. Damned if Sergeant…Lieutenant Isabelle Buchanan didn’t walk in. A hush fell over the crowd.

What the hell was she doing here? The ugly green uniform made most female officers look like men, but not Isabel. Her curvy form couldn’t be camouflaged that easily. Nor were those amber eyes behind her glasses. She gave him a half wave as she took a seat in the back of the room. “Sorry to interrupt, Sergeant. Please, go on.”

He stepped behind the podium and glanced at the index card where he’d jotted his notes for the day’s briefing. “Okay, we have a new max-one inmate. Name is Hawkins. He’ll be staying with us for the duration of his murder trial. Day shift sergeant advised me he didn’t give anyone a problem, yet. But he’s famous for his escape attempts. One was successful a few months ago. Took the cops two days to recapture him so keep a close eye on him.” A flutter of movement drew his attention to the back of the room.

Isabel’s hand shot up in the air.

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

She stood up and clasped her hands in front of her. A single chestnut curl had escaped her tight bun and she tucked it behind her ear. “Do we know Hawkins’s MO for those escape attempts? It would be helpful if you could tell the officers exactly what they were supposed to be watching for. If you refer to page ninety-six of the Policy and Procedures manual, you’ll find a reference to protocol for briefing the staff in a situation such as this.”

Hushed whispers circulated amongst the officers.

He resisted rolling his eyes. “His methods varied each time. He tried to dig a tunnel around the plumbing lines once. Got a good ten feet hollowed out before it was discovered. As an inmate worker, he buried himself in a kitchen trashcan until he realized they used a compactor, so he gave himself up.”

Damn woman was distracting him—batting those long, dark eyelashes. Who had eyes that color anyway? They reminded him of a jar of fine whiskey. He shook his head, trying to rein in his concentration. He gripped the edge of the lectern. “Just watch him. My officers all have lots of experience. You all know what to look for.”

He checked his notes since her question had knocked him off course. “Anyone interested in a position in the medical department, please email Corporal Duffy in HR.” Moving the lectern aside, he cleared an area large enough to safely demonstrate one of the takedown techniques he’d learned in a recent Defensive Tactics course. Then he set a padded vinyl mat on the floor.

“As you all know, I like to pass along what I learn in the classes the jail pays me to take. Tonight I’m going to show you a leg sweep.” He stepped closer to the first row of chairs. “This is a great move to take an inmate down quickly. You’re going to grab his left or right pant leg—whichever is easier to access—and yank his leg out to the side. At the same time, you pull his opposite shoulder backward, disrupting his base.”

He rubbed his hands together, looking over the group for a good candidate to help him demonstrate the technique. “Who wants to knock me to the floor tonight?”

As usual, not a single hand went up. “Come on, people.”

In the last row, a single hand went up. “I’ll do it,” Belle offered.

He held back a grin. The woman’s adorable butt had been firmly plastered in a cushy office chair her entire career. He doubted she even attended the mandatory yearly physical training sessions the rest of the staff had to endure. She wanted to play with the big boys? Look like a fool? Sure. He’d facilitate that for her.

Motioning for her to come up front, he ignored the rumbling in the crowd. He watched her sidestep between chairs. Her hips shifted this way and that. He couldn’t help being riveted by that round ass and those perky breasts. Hell, he wasn’t the only guy in the room staring at the spectacle.

She finally made it up front and stood a couple of feet from him on the mat. The close proximity gave him a whiff of her strawberry scent. No one smelled that good here. That was wrong in a jail. Just plain wrong.

“Okay. What do I do?” Her stiff stance conveyed about as much warmth as an ice cube, but then she wasn’t here on a date.

“Stand behind me, facing me. Tuck in close to protect yourself from an elbow.”

She moved into position.

“Always do this takedown from behind. Remember to—” His left leg went out from under him and he immediately fell backward, landing on the mat flat on his ass.

The pain of the fall was nothing compared to the hoots, hollers and raucous laughter from his crew. Son of a bitch. But he guessed he’d probably be cutting up with them if he saw a five-foot-nothing woman take down a six-foot-one man who had at least seventy pounds on her.

“That was easy. Great technique.” Isabel—wearing a snug grin—offered him a hand up.

He got to his feet without her assistance.

She strode back to her seat as the laughter died down.

Disloyal bastards.

“Any questions?” He folded the mat and hung it on a hook on the wall. No one said anything. Glancing around for his three corporals, he said, “Anything to add?”

Again, nothing.

“Okay. Everyone get out there and have a safe shift.” He moved the podium back into place then waited for the officers to leave the room.

Belle lingered around her seat, picked up a cup someone had forgotten on the floor. But he got the distinct impression she’d purposely stayed behind to get him alone. What the hell did she want with him?

Belle bent to search under the chairs for any trash the officers had left. She didn’t see much.

Is this what I’ve worked my ass off for?

She wished her captain had explained better what he wanted her to do.

Get to know what working in operations entails. Shadow Sergeant Ramsey, he’d said. Yeah, the guy she’d just beaten out for a promotion was sure to be extra helpful. Not to mention that he’d dumped her two years earlier.

She’d nearly forgotten about Ram’s incredible turquoise eyes and that sexy-as-sin cleft in his chin. Those amazing broad shoulders looked even more massive than they had last time she’d seen him, if that were possible.

Damn my libido.

Why had she volunteered for his defensive tactics demonstration? The close contact had turned up her thermostat about a hundred degrees. She hadn’t meant to make him look foolish in front of his crew, but neither had she particularly felt like lying down and playing dead.

Ram loudly cleared his throat. “Can I help you find something, Lieutenant?” She stood up and squared her shoulders as she met his stare.

I will not allow him to intimidate me.

“Captain Carter suggested I get to know what it’s like to work in operations. In case I…” Damn. Why had she gone there?

His eyes narrowed and tiny muscles around his jaw quivered. “In case they move you over here? To be my boss?”

She gulped. “I want to shadow you. Just for a few nights. I’m sure it won’t take me long to learn the workings of the job.” At his scowl, she realized how bad that had sounded. “I didn’t mean—”

He cut her off with a stiff hand in the air. “No need to explain, Lieutenant.”

She took a step toward him. “Do we have to keep this so formal, Ram?” Lord, he towered over her.

“This is my shift, my crew, my building. As long as you get that straight, we’ll be fine.” With his hands on his waist, he looked like a damn brick wall in front of her. A brick wall of pure muscle.

“Fine.” She ought to be offended by his territorial statement, yet she couldn’t deny that his gruff attitude made her nipples peak. And his scent—pure male—permeated the air around her.

I shouldn’t be having these thoughts.

He’d made it clear after they’d gone out on a few dates that he wasn’t interested. Sure, he’d made some excuse about his divorce putting him through hell, but then he’d never called her after it was over.

“You want to see what I do or not?” Ram opened the door and gestured for her to go ahead of him.

Squaring her shoulders, she strode into the hallway. “What’s our agenda?”

“Our agenda?”

She ignored his smirk.

“First I like to check all the control rooms. Since we just moved everyone into this building from the old main jail a few weeks ago, I want to make sure all my control desk monitors are comfortable with the new system and that the equipment is working properly. If we need tech support, best to let them know before midnight or else it takes hours to get them over here.”

She fell in step with him down the white-on-white corridor but she practically had to run to keep up with his big strides. By the time they arrived at the first control room she was practically gasping for air.

Ram hit the green button by the entrance and one of the officers inside glanced up at them through the Plexiglas and nodded. The door buzzed then opened with a mechanical hum.

The three officers in the control room—two women and one man—all sat up straighter when she entered ahead of Ram.

“Relax, folks.” He tipped his chin toward her. “She’s just shadowing me, learning about how the jail works.”

Isabel clenched her jaw.

Learning about how the jail works.

As if she hadn’t been working there for more than seven years. The moment they left the room and the door slid shut, she grabbed his arm and dragged him to a stop. “I resent that you implied I don’t know a single thing about how this place runs. I’ve got a degree in criminal justice and I started as a corrections officer and fought my way through the ranks just like you. I’ve worked my tail off here. I know every rule and regulation, every policy and I’ve even drafted many of our internal forms.”

“I see.” His chuckle caught her off guard.

“What’s so amusing?”

He took a step closer and stared down at her. She shouldn’t like how he hulked over her but she did. Moisture pooled between her legs.

“I’m sure you know what the rules and procedures look like on paper. But I know what they look like in practice.” He moved even closer. So near she could swear she heard his heartbeat. Nope—that was hers, pounding furiously.

“While your behind was stuck in a chair in a cushy office with a bowl of potpourri on your desk, mine was walking the floor, dealing with violent or mentally unstable inmates. While you were making spreadsheets at a computer I was dealing with Uses of Force and issues between officers. While you were placing orders for toilet paper and mops, I was doing CPR on junkies who were going through life-threatening withdrawals.”

She backed away but he bracketed himself over her, each of his hands flat on the wall on either side of her head.

“While you were sipping your lattes over in administration, I was taking apart cells searching for contraband.” Muscles on his neck corded and his skin reddened. His breath gusted over her forehead, heating her insides and slicking her sex.

Flattening herself against the concrete block, she wished he’d kiss her. Totally inappropriate, of course, and completely against every rule in the book but she couldn’t control her fantasies. “I-I see your point. But I wouldn’t say that empirical expertise is better or worse than theoretical.” What a lousy argument. If she were able to think with him hovering over her, stirring up her sex drive, she’d have come up with a better case.