Page 10 of Jackson

It had me thinking, though—just whowasJackson and why did it feel like every time he came around me, there was this weird tension there?

It had to be in my head.

There was no other explanation to it. This guy was nice and was trying to be a good host while we were on his turf.

What else would he want from me, anyway?

Right?

CHAPTER 4

Jackson

Training went as smoothlyas it could go considering the fact that none of these inmates had any sort of exposure to firefighter procedures before in the past.

I had to say, out of any of the groups we’d had come through here over the last few years, none of them had ever been as proactive as these guys were.

Sure, there was plenty of bumbling and knocking things over but aside from that, we had a good group this time around. It was rare to see so much cooperation among a bunch of criminals who were used to doing things in their own way, on their own time—which was most likely part of the reason they were even here in the first place.

But still, it was a nice change of pace for once.

I’d been careful to mind myself when walking around the groups as they’d broken up to practice what they’d learned, keeping a careful distance between me and Gonzalez for the time being.

Whatever had possessed me to walk up to him during breakfast and slather a bunch of burn cream all over him like I was trying to perform some type of fucked up version of a Thai hand massage had me frustrated.

And not just mentally.

Not just for my lack of boundaries that I’d been forcing myself to abide by since he got here, but because seeing his eyes widen at the sight of my fingers carefully moving along the ridges of his hand and working between the tendons had turned me on more than I’d expected it to.

What I wouldn’t give to see that same expression while I ran my hands along his body, feeling out which parts of him were oversensitive and watching him squirm when I finally found them.

It was fucked up—all of it. Yet my mind had completely attached itself to the idea and no matter what I did, it continued to play over and over again. A non-stop loop that was driving me fucking mad. I kept rolling the fantasy over and over in my head as I made my rounds and steered clear of him and his friend.

What I actually needed to do was head to the bar after this and go get laid.

Clearly, I was pent up for whatever reason and needed to clear my head. Once I was done, I could come back to the station clear-headed and focused and not continue to obsess over a pretty little inmate that I was growing suspicious of being a sub.

Because what else would he be with how obediently he’d let me touch him and seemed to lean into the heat of my body so close to mine?

Ugh.

Fuck…

When the sun finally set, we called it enough for the night.

Inmates filed into the mess hall to grab dinner and settle down for the rest of the evening while I headed to the staff cabins to grab my things. During these programs, I tended to opt for staying on property. More as an ease of convenience than anything else. My house was more in the city and battling traffic everyday just to arrive at the ass crack of dawn was bad for my blood pressure.

Tonight, though, I’d stay in the city and deal with fighting my way back to the sticks in the morning. It was worth it in the end if it got me to stop focusing so heavily on Gonzalez and take my desires elsewhere.

A casual hookup hadn’t ever failed me from working out my frustrations in the past.

“Going somewhere, Hall?”

I looked over to my colleague, Ryan, as we entered the staff section of the training grounds. “Yeah, into the city.”

He raised a brow at me. “You’re going back home for the night? That’s rare.”

“No, just the bar. You want to hitch a ride?”

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