"Friend?" Silas asked. "Don't call me that shit. We're not friends, you and I."
I bristled at his statement. "That's fucking hateful, Silas," I said. "We used to be friends, a long time ago."
Silas leaned forward. "I never wanted to be just friends, Tempest," he said.
I swallowed hard, the implication of his words sinking in. I didn't need to hear Silas say he wanted something more with me.
"Well, we're not friends, Silas. Friends tell each other things. Like the fact that they still live in their hometowns." The words sounded more abrasive than I intended, and I regretted them as soon as they came out of my mouth.
Silas' eyes narrowed, and his voice was hard. "You didn't exactly say you were coming back to West Bend. So what the hell are you doing here, Ms. McAdams?"
For there we loved, and where we love is home,
Home that our feet may leave, but not our hearts.
~ Oliver Wendall Holmes, Sr., Homesick in Heaven
"What am I doing here?" she asked. "You sound like you're not happy I showed up. To help you, I might add."
I laughed. "Happy?" I didn't know how the hell I felt about Tempest showing up here. But happy? That definitely wasn't the word for it. That was way too fucking uncomplicated a word for the complicated bullshit we had between us.
I couldn't decide if I wanted to rip her clothes off and make her mine, or tell her I never wanted to see her again.
"I'm here getting your ass out of a jam," Tempest continued. "You should be on your knees, thanking me."
I couldn't help but smirk. The image of Tempest on her knees between my legs, taking my cock in her mouth, immediately flashed in my mind's eye.
I could feel my cock getting hard at the thought of her lips wrapped around me, even though I was sitting here in jail. That was some kind of messed up.
"Give me a couple hours," I said, leaning forward, my voice low. "And I'll be on my knees expressing my gratitude with my tongue."
She narrowed her eyes, but I noticed a flush rise to her cheeks. "That assumes I'm interested in your expression of gratitude."
"Oh, bright eyes, come on," I said. "Don't pretend like you're immune to what happened between us."
"What happened between us was a one-time thing," she said. "Closure."
"And yet, here you are, sitting here across the table from me," I said. "In West Bend, Colorado. In jail. Pretending to be my attorney."
"This is my good deed for the year," she said. "I need some good karma."
"Charity?" I asked. "That doesn't seem very fitting for a con artist, does it?"
She looked at me, her lips parted, like she was about to come back with a quick-witted response. But instead, she asked, "Are you going to tell me why you got arrested?"
"Are you going to continue this whole attorney charade?" I asked.
"You don't know whether I'm a lawyer or not," she said. "We've been apart for years, Silas. I could have gone to law school."
"Did you?"
She smiled. "No," she said. "But I've got a bar card in my purse that says I'm a member of the American Bar Association and a practicing attorney."
I couldn't help but laugh. "Of course you do," I said. "Well, I'm not in a jam that I need your help with, Tempest."
She shrugged. "You're the one in jail, not me," she said. "I just figured I'd stop by and offer my services, post your bail if you need it. I'm sure your cell mate will be more than happy to have you stay longer."
I laughed. "We're in West Bend, not Vegas," I said. "I'm sure I'll be fine."
"That's all I needed to know, then," she said, rising. "I'll let them know we're finished."
I sighed. "Wait."
Tempest turned back toward me, eyebrows raised. "Yes?"
"Sit down," I said.
"You're awful bossy for someone in handcuffs," she said. "Are you sure you want to be ordering me around? I could just leave."
"You could," I said. "But you don't want to leave. You're still thinking about how good we were together in Vegas, aren't you?"
She stood, motionless, except for that thing she did where she flicked her tongue over her lower lip.
The thing that made me crazy.
"I haven't given it a moment's thought," she said.
"No?" I asked. "Because I have. In fact, I haven't been able to stop thinking about it."
The door opened, and a female officer poked her head inside. "Are you already finished?" she asked.
"No," Tempest said. "I was just stretching my legs. I'll be more cognizant of remaining seated. Thank you, Officer Edwards." She sank back into her chair. "You've been thinking about it."
I wasn't sure if she was making a statement or asking a question. "Of course I've been thinking about it," I said. "I can't stop thinking about how you taste."
"Tell me what happened," she said. "Tell me why you got arrested."
I ignored her, unable to resist playing with her a little bit. "I can't stop thinking about putting my head between your legs," I said. "Running my tongue over your *, taking your clit in my mouth, sucking it in."