The Trap (Paperback)

It’s Time For Me to Interrogate You…

If Ethan Knight could stop looking at me as if I’m his appetizer, it would make my job a lot easier.

Someone is framing the eye-candy real estate mogul for embezzlement.

My boss asks me to prepare him for FBI interrogations.

Our first glance is full of sizzling attraction.

And it’s unethical and illegal for me to act anything out.

One night out changes everything.

And Ethan has some interesting ways of utilizing anything he can find…like scarves, or blankets…or articles of clothing…

But our relationship puts everything we’ve both worked for—our careers, reputations, and safety—on the line.

The only way to solve the FBI case and overcome the danger we’re in is to go deeper.

All we want is to be free together.

Ethan Knight

She couldn’t find her underwear. I heard her through the pounding of my hangover, looking everywhere and muttering under her breath.

I was tempted to roll over and bury my head into the pillow, but my body stayed paralyzed in fear; she would know I was awake.

“Ah, there we go.” She leaned over me, her hard nipples shimmying across my naked chest. I assumed she was grabbing her panties off the floor.

The stench of her day-old perfume filled my nostrils. Her breath, caked in last night's alcohol, was as bad as mine. She paused on top of me, and I could feel her staring at me through my closed eyes.

Please get off of me and leave.

Last night was another epic mistake on my part. After sitting across from Claire Whitfield interrogating me all day, I went straight to the bar and started hammering back shots...between beers. 

My company was under investigation for fraud. I had nothing to do with it, but one of my employees was guilty, and I didn’t know who. That made it even worse. My entire life was on the line: my business and my personal freedom. Civil and criminal charges were probably going to be filed, and I couldn’t provide a single clue as to who the guilty party was.

The normal attorney I worked with, Dan Crane, was out of town. He’d called me yesterday morning and told me he was sending his best criminal attorney over to prepare me for more police interrogations. “Clear your schedule for the day,” he’d instructed.

Criminal attorney. The thought made my stomach flip.

Yep, I had a big problem on my hands. Things were bad enough...then she walked into my office.

I was sitting in my office chair, staring out into the New York skyline, a million thoughts running through my head about who in my company could have possibly committed this crime. I faintly heard my assistant say, “Go on in, he’s expecting you.”

I closed my eyes. This was not going to be a fun day. 

The click, click, click of her heels grew louder as she approached my desk. “Ethan Knight?” Her voice alone made the hairs on my skin stand up.

I spun around in my chair and took a sharp breath. Claire Whitfield was the sexiest creature I had ever come across. 

Her thick blonde hair was pulled up into a tight, neat bun. Blue eyes peered at me through black cat-eye glasses. Her pert nose fit her face perfectly, and her lips... Oh my God, those lips. I wanted to suck on them until she moaned. 

Full.

Pink.

Delicious.

Lacking all self-control and like a complete pervert, I scanned her body...in slow motion—her blue tank dress that matched her eyes, revealed her flawless arms, and hugged her body. Her perky boobs, a curvaceous waist, and hips that I held myself back from grabbing.

They all made my mouth water. 

Then I saw her legs—the most impeccable legs I’d ever seen on a woman. Legs meant to drive all men insane. And that’s what Claire Whitfield did to me. She drove me more insane than any woman I had ever laid eyes on.

I gulped and gazed up at her face. My dick suddenly felt very uncomfortable in my pants, and my heart started pounding in my chest. Visions of what she would look like tied up in multiple positions flew through my mind. And like the jackass I was, I licked my lips at her... I didn’t mean to, but I did. 

That’s when the real problem began. 

Claire Whitfield could see that I wanted her. She didn’t flinch. Not one time during the entire six-hour interrogation did she cringe over my ogling of her. 

No, I didn’t act like an idiot the entire day, but every time she’d cross her legs, or subconsciously lean back in her chair and take a deep breath, pushing her perky tits out further, my eyes would wander. 

She would continue to barrage me with questions. 

Claire Whitfield was nice to me. 

She was mean to me. 

She was nonchalant with me. 

The entire day she had me angry, frustrated, and feeling desperate...both professionally for not knowing who the culprit was and physically toward her.

Besides the fact that I wanted to throw her on my desk and have my way with her, the biggest issue was I couldn’t tell if she thought I was being honest or lying. And that stung.

While I should have been concentrating harder on making sure I was prepared for questioning and didn’t end up in jail, I spent the day in agony with my cock on fire, my blood raging through my veins, and worrying about what she thought of me.

So yeah, as soon as she left, I walked outside my office building, over to the closest bar, and tried to drink her out of my system.

I don’t remember how I got home. I definitely didn’t know the name of the woman staring back at me in my bed. And I didn’t want to open my eyes and find out. 

I figured she would get up and leave, but suddenly her hand was stroking my semi, and she started whispering dirty things in my ear. 

Oh, no I thought, and slowly opened my eyes as she began to nibble on my lobe. 

I pulled her off of me and tried to sit up as my brain slammed against my skull. “Hey, honey, you’re going to need to go. I’m late for work.”

She put her face up to mine. Her bloodshot eyes stared at me, and her brown hair fell into my face. “It’s Friday. Surely you can be late?” She stroked my manhood some more. 

Typically I would have done just that. The woman was attractive enough, and any normal guy would have been more than happy to wake up next to her.

But she was no Claire Whitfield. 

Grabbing her hips, I moved her off me once more and jumped out of bed. “Sorry, but I need to go. Please leave.”

She looked at me, hurt. I almost apologized for being so rude, but thought twice. I just needed her to leave. 

She threw her clothes on, muttered some things under her breath, and scampered out of my apartment. 

I locked the door and picked up a used condom off the floor. My stomach churned looking at it. 

Thank fuck I at least wrapped my shit up.

I quickly jumped in the shower. My head spiraled with visions of Claire. I turned the water to the coldest setting I could, but it did nothing for the heat racing through my veins. 

I put my forearm on the wall of the shower and leaned my pounding head into it. I was facing possible jail time and would be spending the day with the FBI and Claire. She had spent the day preparing me for battle, but I felt anything but ready. I needed to get my head on straight. As much as I wanted her, I couldn’t have her, and my freedom needed to be my top priority.

I had less than two hours to get Claire Whitfield out of my system and get my shit together. I banged my head against my forearm. 

With my other hand, I thought of her and jacked off in the cold shower.

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