Read Online Riding Dirty by Jill Sorenson - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Jill Sorenson
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Fantasizing about Cole. At the moment of climax, she’d pictured him in the motorcycle mask, taking her by force. Her sharp cry of pleasure made her tremble with shame. Was she facing her fears, or getting off on them?
She didn’t know.
After she disabled the air conditioner, she returned to her desk. She was wearing a gray skirt suit with a sleeveless, floral-print blouse. No garter belt or stockings today. Her bra was bright pink. If she removed the jacket, her bra would be visible through the sheer fabric of her blouse, but the look wasn’t that daring. She undid a few more buttons.
Her strategy was to entice Cole without being obvious. She wanted him to think he was chasing her , so a certain amount of subtlety was in order. But time was of the essence. He could get pulled from the assignment for failing to cooperate. Damon already suspected Cole of withholding information.
There was another glitch in the plan: she actually liked him, and that was dangerous. She’d sympathized with clients before, but she’d never had to recuse herself from an evaluation. Her fluttery-stomach feelings for Cole were inappropriate on every level. They also might compromise her mission if she got too emotionally attached.
She had to act now, before she changed her mind about using him.
Too nervous to sit still, she went to the staff lounge. Her throat was dry as a bone, and she’d forgotten her bottled water. She found a clear plastic pitcher under the sink and washed it. After adding ice, she filled it up. There was a bag of freshly picked lemons on the table, so she sliced one and tossed it in. Very refreshing.
She carried the pitcher back to the office, along with some paper cups, in case Cole wanted a drink. It was the least she could do. The temperature was in the high nineties today. Without a/c, the room would become a sweat lodge.
She distracted herself for a few minutes by making notes about other patients. She’d seen a police officer in Palm Springs with PTSD this morning. She spent Mondays and Wednesdays counseling women at the Ironwood Female Detention Facility. It was interesting, important work, but she wasn’t fulfilled. Because she had no outlet, no comfort. No personal life. No one to come home to and curl up with at the end of a hard day. She didn’t know if she was capable of trusting a man with her body, let alone her heart. She couldn’t imagine starting a family. Not when she felt so unsafe. How could she bring a child into a world where real monsters roamed free, and might come after her?
She didn’t have a normal life. She couldn’t have one. She could have only this cold, satisfying revenge.
After what seemed like hours, Cole knocked on her door.
“Come in,” she said, standing behind her desk.
He had his leather vest draped over one arm instead of on his back, probably in deference to her anxiety attack. Otherwise his appearance was the same. White T-shirt, snug around the biceps. Basic Levi’s. Motorcycle boots. He must shower between work and these appointments, because his clothes were clean.
He looked good. Healthy. Handsome.
Heat rose to her cheeks as he gave her a similar perusal. His gaze zeroed in on her cleavage, darkening with interest. What had felt demure a moment ago now seemed desperate. She shouldn’t have unbuttoned so far.
“How are you?” she asked, clearing her throat.
He made a noncommittal sound and helped himself to a seat. His demeanor was less cautious than last week but also more agitated. He took up a lot of space, legs spread wide, expression challenging.
Mia picked up her notebook and crossed the room, sitting down across from him. “Is something bothering you?”
“Just your DA boyfriend.”
She didn’t correct his wording. “What did he do?”
“I don’t see why I should have to meet with him unless I have information. Getting interrogated twice a week for no reason is bullshit. I have to leave work early, and it looks
She didn’t know.
After she disabled the air conditioner, she returned to her desk. She was wearing a gray skirt suit with a sleeveless, floral-print blouse. No garter belt or stockings today. Her bra was bright pink. If she removed the jacket, her bra would be visible through the sheer fabric of her blouse, but the look wasn’t that daring. She undid a few more buttons.
Her strategy was to entice Cole without being obvious. She wanted him to think he was chasing her , so a certain amount of subtlety was in order. But time was of the essence. He could get pulled from the assignment for failing to cooperate. Damon already suspected Cole of withholding information.
There was another glitch in the plan: she actually liked him, and that was dangerous. She’d sympathized with clients before, but she’d never had to recuse herself from an evaluation. Her fluttery-stomach feelings for Cole were inappropriate on every level. They also might compromise her mission if she got too emotionally attached.
She had to act now, before she changed her mind about using him.
Too nervous to sit still, she went to the staff lounge. Her throat was dry as a bone, and she’d forgotten her bottled water. She found a clear plastic pitcher under the sink and washed it. After adding ice, she filled it up. There was a bag of freshly picked lemons on the table, so she sliced one and tossed it in. Very refreshing.
She carried the pitcher back to the office, along with some paper cups, in case Cole wanted a drink. It was the least she could do. The temperature was in the high nineties today. Without a/c, the room would become a sweat lodge.
She distracted herself for a few minutes by making notes about other patients. She’d seen a police officer in Palm Springs with PTSD this morning. She spent Mondays and Wednesdays counseling women at the Ironwood Female Detention Facility. It was interesting, important work, but she wasn’t fulfilled. Because she had no outlet, no comfort. No personal life. No one to come home to and curl up with at the end of a hard day. She didn’t know if she was capable of trusting a man with her body, let alone her heart. She couldn’t imagine starting a family. Not when she felt so unsafe. How could she bring a child into a world where real monsters roamed free, and might come after her?
She didn’t have a normal life. She couldn’t have one. She could have only this cold, satisfying revenge.
After what seemed like hours, Cole knocked on her door.
“Come in,” she said, standing behind her desk.
He had his leather vest draped over one arm instead of on his back, probably in deference to her anxiety attack. Otherwise his appearance was the same. White T-shirt, snug around the biceps. Basic Levi’s. Motorcycle boots. He must shower between work and these appointments, because his clothes were clean.
He looked good. Healthy. Handsome.
Heat rose to her cheeks as he gave her a similar perusal. His gaze zeroed in on her cleavage, darkening with interest. What had felt demure a moment ago now seemed desperate. She shouldn’t have unbuttoned so far.
“How are you?” she asked, clearing her throat.
He made a noncommittal sound and helped himself to a seat. His demeanor was less cautious than last week but also more agitated. He took up a lot of space, legs spread wide, expression challenging.
Mia picked up her notebook and crossed the room, sitting down across from him. “Is something bothering you?”
“Just your DA boyfriend.”
She didn’t correct his wording. “What did he do?”
“I don’t see why I should have to meet with him unless I have information. Getting interrogated twice a week for no reason is bullshit. I have to leave work early, and it looks
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