When another inmate storms into the room, veins popping and mouth foaming, I sigh and lock my arms over my chest before leaning back against my seat. I close my eyes, not one bit surprised by the image of Maeve that slips into my mind. Or the arousal that sets in at the thought of her.
I haven’t touched a woman in years. I haven’t felt even the mildest attraction to anyone in so long that seeing Maeve was almost like a shock to my system. Dressed in a tailored charcoal suit that accentuated her form, with a crisp white blouse beneath, buttoned high for modesty and yet…my cock hardens at the memory of the way the blouse clung to her body to reveal hints at the curves underneath it. The perfect swell of her breasts and the slim dip of her waist. Her dress pants tight around her hips and ass. And those heels…
Christ, I can already picture it. My perfectly buttoned-up lawyer removing that sexy power outfit piece by piece, baring it all in a show just for me. My cock twitches in my elastic prison-issued pants at the image my brain conjures. She’d be horrified to know what I’m thinking about right now. That her client is a beast, set on devouring his little kitten.
I picture those eyes fluttering closed as I kiss a path up her legs and between her thighs, breathing her in like she’s my last breath. Tugging her panties down her thighs and lapping at her creamy pussy until she’s leaking all over my jaw, coating my chin and beard with her hot arousal…
“Maddox, you’re up. Courtroom 102.”
My eyes snap open. The officer who just called my name must read the venom in my eyes, because he hesitates. I see it in his eyes. The question is whether he’ll need to use a weapon on me, but I’m no fool. I’ve learned to pick my battles wisely. Can’t go raging carelessly just because someone interrupted my daydream.
With another sigh about the tedious and useless process I’m about to undergo, I push to my feet and follow the officer out. We reach the heavy door of the courtroom and one of the guards flanking me opens it.
Courtroom 102 isn’t big, nothing dramatic. Just rows of benches, legal pads, and low murmurs that die down when I step in. I feel every eye in the room scrape across my uniform like a blade, but the judgment merely bounces off me. I’m directed to the chair next to my pretty attorney in that sexy form-fitting suit I’m tempted to tear off her.
“People of the state of Illinois vs. Maddox, docket number 25CF-439628,” the clerk drones.
Maeve rises without missing a beat. “Good afternoon, Your Honor. My name is Maeve Halloway and I represent the defendant, Cole Maddox.”
She doesn’t once glance in my direction, but I keep my eyes on her and I don’t take them off even when the prosecutor steps forward. I catch bits and phrases as he speaks. “…possession…schedule II narcotic…felony…” Everything else flies right over my head.
How often does a man come across something so perfect? Why the fuck would I focus on a boring proceeding that’s not going to guarantee my freedom when I can look at her, envision all the ways I could take her, pleasure her. She would forget every other man that’s ever touched her. I could erase their touch from her skin and their names from her memories and replace it all with my touch. My name.
“Prior convictions. Parole. Alleged to be affiliated with a motorcycle gang. I’m not seeing a clear reason to release, Counsel.”
Maeve doesn’t flinch at the judge’s hard voice, and I watch with amusement as her mouth sets in a stubborn line. Fuck if that’s not the hottest thing I’ve ever seen. “Respectfully, Your Honor, the Steel Rebels are a motorcycle club, not a gang recognized by law enforcement.”
Surely even she doesn’t believe that. Given the low murmur, neither does anyone else in the courtroom.
“Mr. Maddox isn’t named in any gang database. He has complied with every parole condition for the past four years. His parole officer can attest to that and has submitted documentation outlining his history and compliance. Punctual check-ins, employment with zero violations.”
Good God, she’s magnificent. Miles away from the shy woman I met an hour ago. Those pretty green eyes are firm and focused on the judge as she speaks, her voice commanding attention in a way I never expected. Well, she hasmyattention.
“Your Honor, my client works full time as a guard, protecting vulnerable women at Haven House, a women’s shelter founded by the Steel Rebels Motorcycle Club, and has complied with every condition set since his release.”
For the first time since walking in, I tear my eyes from Maeve and glance up at the judge, whose pen has stopped scribbling at Maeve’s words.
“Mr. Maddox, any violations since your release?”
“No, ma’am,” I respond, surprised at the sudden attention. “I check in every month. Haven’t missed one.”
Silence.
“He’s not a flight risk, Your Honor. Many women and children at the shelter are dependent on the protection he provides.” Maeve pauses a second before carrying on. “However, we recognize the seriousness of the charge. If the court is inclined to grant release, Mr. Maddox will agree to enhanced supervision through weekly check-ins or any other supervision the court finds appropriate.”
“This charge is serious,” the judge says after a long pause, back to tapping her pen. “But…Mr. Maddox has demonstrated consistency and cooperation during parole. This court accepts the counsel’s proposal, not as leniency but as structured continuation of proven compliancy.” I freeze at the words, confused by the storm of legal jargon, but not at the meaning underneath it. “Bail is granted at five thousand dollars. Conditions are weekly check-ins, verified employment, and enrollment in drug counseling. Noncompliance will result in immediate remand.”
I turn to Maeve, in awe of her. I don’t see the smug and self-satisfied look I expect to see on her face as she nods at the judge, scribbling on her notepad. When she finally turns to me, I notice a flash of quiet relief, but it’s quickly gone and the mask of professionalism slips back on.
She did it.
My beautiful attorney secured my release when I didn’t believe it could happen. Ten years ago, I sat in this very courtroom, staring up hopefully at my court-appointed attorney, trusting him to defend me, but he shattered whatever trust I had left in the justice system. He barely put up a fight for me and I spent months locked away, waiting for my court date, grasping on to hope that I would get my freedom. Months of hoping, trusting, and believing all the wrong people, and I paid for it with six fucking years of my life.
Maeve kept her promise and got me out.
I’m numb as I’m escorted back to the holding area to wait while Saint pays the bail money and they process the release paperwork. And I’m still numb when I’m transported back to jail for final clearance and to collect my stuff. I flip through my wallet to make sure I have enough money for a cab, and I almost pass right by Maeve when I step through the main gates. I stop a few feet from her and allow my gaze to run shamelessly over her, making no effort to hide the desire that’s no doubt swimming in my gaze.
If she hadn’t waited for me, I’d intended to go looking for her tonight.
