Prison.
The place where dreams fade and hope dies.
That’s what it’s meant for the five years that Garrett has been behind bars. But now hope is on the horizon and he’s daring to dream again: small dreams, small hopes.
Getting his GED would be a start. If only his prison-appointed teacher Miss Ella Newsome wasn’t so damn sexy.
As Garrett and Ella start to play a dangerous game, the price could be higher than either of them have guessed.
This story first appeared in the anthology HOT FOR TEACHER in 2016. It has since been extended with new scenes, more heartache and even more heat.
The place where dreams fade and hope dies.
That’s what it’s meant for the five years that Garrett has been behind bars. But now hope is on the horizon and he’s daring to dream again: small dreams, small hopes.
Getting his GED would be a start. If only his prison-appointed teacher Miss Ella Newsome wasn’t so damn sexy.
As Garrett and Ella start to play a dangerous game, the price could be higher than either of them have guessed.
This story first appeared in the anthology HOT FOR TEACHER in 2016. It has since been extended with new scenes, more heartache and even more heat.
An alarm blaring jerked us apart, and Garrett peered through the window in the classroom door.
When he turned to look at me again, there was a new tension in his jaw.
“They’re going to riot,” he said sharply. “We have to get out of here. Do you trust me?”
Trust. Such a small word with such a big meaning. Could I trust a convicted felon? Could I? Dare I trust a man whose simple words stole my heart from the very first moment he’d shown me his true self? Foolish, foolish heart.
“Get ready to run, Ella.”
I took a deep breath, and then we were racing along the brightly lit corridor, the alarm even louder, almost drowning out the pounding of our footsteps.
Garrett dragged me along with him, urging me to go faster. I felt his own panic as he tried door after door, but all were locked. The sound of rioting seemed to follow us, and I thought I could smell smoke.
Then we ran out of corridor, and Garrett swore loudly, his eyes darting wildly. He dropped my hand and kicked at the nearest door, smashing it repeatedly until I was sure either the door or his leg would shatter.
Finally, as sweat poured down Garrett’s face, the door’s weak lock screeched and broke, and he fell into a large storage closet.
“In here!” he hissed, his face contorting with pain as his hand reached out to mine.
I followed him without thinking, needing him near to feel safe.
I’d imagined that hard body so many times, imagined the layer of solid muscle and silky skin that overlaid a tall, lean bone structure. My impatient fingers pushed under his prison uniform, discovering a trail of coarse hair that led from his chest to the waistband of his pants.
My impulsive fingers drifted lower, and I felt the groan in his chest as I closed my hand around his hot, heated shaft.
“Ellaaaa!” he moaned my name with reverence, a plea.
When he turned to look at me again, there was a new tension in his jaw.
“They’re going to riot,” he said sharply. “We have to get out of here. Do you trust me?”
Trust. Such a small word with such a big meaning. Could I trust a convicted felon? Could I? Dare I trust a man whose simple words stole my heart from the very first moment he’d shown me his true self? Foolish, foolish heart.
“Get ready to run, Ella.”
I took a deep breath, and then we were racing along the brightly lit corridor, the alarm even louder, almost drowning out the pounding of our footsteps.
Garrett dragged me along with him, urging me to go faster. I felt his own panic as he tried door after door, but all were locked. The sound of rioting seemed to follow us, and I thought I could smell smoke.
Then we ran out of corridor, and Garrett swore loudly, his eyes darting wildly. He dropped my hand and kicked at the nearest door, smashing it repeatedly until I was sure either the door or his leg would shatter.
Finally, as sweat poured down Garrett’s face, the door’s weak lock screeched and broke, and he fell into a large storage closet.
“In here!” he hissed, his face contorting with pain as his hand reached out to mine.
I followed him without thinking, needing him near to feel safe.
I’d imagined that hard body so many times, imagined the layer of solid muscle and silky skin that overlaid a tall, lean bone structure. My impatient fingers pushed under his prison uniform, discovering a trail of coarse hair that led from his chest to the waistband of his pants.
My impulsive fingers drifted lower, and I felt the groan in his chest as I closed my hand around his hot, heated shaft.
“Ellaaaa!” he moaned my name with reverence, a plea.
This story first appeared in the anthology HOT FOR TEACHER in 2016. It has since been extended with new scenes, more heart ache and even more heat.
Jane is a writer of contemporary romance fiction, known for thoughtful stories, often touching on difficult subjects: disability (DANGEROUS TO KNOW & LOVE, SLAVE TO THE RHYTHM); mental illness (THE EDUCATION OF CAROLINE, SEMPER FI); life after prison (LIFERS); dyslexia (THE TRAVELING MAN, THE TRAVELING WOMAN).
She is also a campaigner for former military personnel to receive the support they need on leaving the services. She wrote the well-received play LATER, AFTER with former veteran Mike Speirs. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hk1CyB8c0xA )
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