Total pages in book: 104
Estimated words: 98264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98264 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 491(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
I’d had a lot of surprises in my life. Some rendered me speechless. Some broke my heart. Some changed the trajectory of my life as a whole.
But nothing, and I mean nothing, surprised me more than walking into that tiny room only big enough for a table and two folding chairs at the Clovert police station and finding Camden Cole standing inside.
This wasn’t any version of Camden Cole I’d ever known, not even the sexy twenty-two-year-old I’d left naked and tangled in sheets five years earlier or the dozen pictures I’d obsessed over on Instagram.
No, this was Camden Cole all grown up.
Any other day, I would have flat-out drooled at the sight of this man. Gray three-piece suit. White shirt. Dark-gray tie. Thick muscles testing the skill of his tailor, because there was no way that suit had been anything other than custom made. He was roughly the same height, but his lanky frame now held the bulk of a man. His presence filled the room. Gone were the subtle curves of his jaw; now, he was all razor-sharp angles and he carried them with the resolute square of his shoulders.
Those blue eyes that had pierced my soul when I was only eleven years old were the same though. Well, they were the same if you didn’t count the way they lit with a malevolent rage the minute they landed on me.
“How long has she been in those cuffs?” he snapped, his deep baritone demanding answers.
In that second, it didn’t matter if we were standing in the middle of a police station and I probably looked like hell, as a chill rolled down my spine. It was all too similar to the one I usually felt in the shower, images of Camden on the backs of my lids, my fingers playing between my legs long after the water had run cold.
“Well,” my badged escort drawled. “Caskey said—”
“All day,” I jumped in, my voice breathier than I’d thought possible in my current predicament.
But come on. Camden Cole was fucking sexy.
“Caskey!” Camden boomed so loudly that the echo assaulted the entire room. His brown leather shoes—that were thankfully not his signature hideous penny loafers but rather seriously sexy in a way I was unaware men’s shoes could be—pounded the tile floor as he stormed from the room.
He disappeared from my sight, but his voice could have been heard two counties over.
“Explain to me how keeping a woman in cuffs for over twelve hours while in a holding cell is either justified or reasonable!”
Jonathan Caskey’s voice joined the conversation. “She was violent and resisting arrest. She bit one of my guys.”
I noticed the coward left out the part where I’d punted him in the shin.
“And reasonable?” Camden snarled. “You’re telling me there was no other practical way for you to restrain a one-hundred-and-twenty-pound woman other than cuffing her for twelve hours inside a holding cell, inside your police station. You have lost your fucking mind, and I swear to you, if she’s not out of those cuffs in the next thirty seconds, you’re going to lose your badge too.”
Oh. My. God, I was going to orgasm right then and there. Camden Cole was gorgeous and powerful.
A smug grin pulled at my lips as Jonathan stomped into the room, Camden right behind him, barking all the way.
“Your gross ineptitude to follow procedure today is sickening. There were two judges taking bail hearings, yet my client sat in a cell? Cuffed no less.”
My client.
My client.
My client?
Holy shit. Gorgeous, powerful Camden Cole was an attorney—my attorney?
My smile grew so big I feared it would swallow my face. His stormy gaze sliced to mine, and I actually blanched on impact.
“Ms. Stewart, is there a reason you’re grinning while standing in a police station on potential resisting arrest, assaulting an officer, and possession of marijuana charges?”
Ms. Stewart? What the fuck was that? Shit. Gorgeous, powerful, attorney-at-law Camden Cole was also a bit of a cranky realist.
I licked my lips and looked at my shoes. “Uh, no.”
“Right,” he clipped.
My hands were freed, and my shoulders screamed as I stretched my arms out in front of me. And whether he was cranky or not, I moved to stand at my attorney’s side.
“What the fuck are you even doing here?” Jonathan asked his cousin. “Don’t you live in New York?”
Camden pulled a cell phone from his pocket and began stabbing his index finger at the screen. “Yes, but my client, who you have spent the majority of the day holding in unlawful restraints, depriving her of her physical rights and freedoms, lives here in Clovert. Rest assured, I am fully licensed to practice law in the state of Georgia, including, but not limited to, police misconduct cases.” He lifted the phone to his ear and slapped Jonathan across the face with a challenging glare.