His face could even swear eloquently. A tip of his chin or scowl of his forehead was the perfect fuck you to the guards who broke us apart.
All this I knew now.
There was nothing shallow about falling head over heels for a man incarcerated where privacy was a none-given luxury, and physical intimacy was denied at all times.
Penn loved me. I loved him.
And that was why I knew something was terribly, terribly wrong.
Larry yawned, causing me to look at my watch. “What’s up, Elle? What’s wrong?”
It was almost midnight, and I still hadn’t left the office. I couldn’t. I was too wired, researching bits and pieces Larry had tasked me with, putting together a well-thought-out and correctly edited document to read in court if and when Penn was given a date.
I quit my pacing, forcing my heart rate to return to sane rather than crazy. “Penn isn’t doing so well.”
That was an understatement.
How could I expect him to be happy and thrive in a place where violence and misdemeanors were the only forms of conversation and habit?
He pretended otherwise, but each time I saw him, he seemed a little more...empty. As if he’d stuffed every feeling he’d had, every love and goodness, and buried it so deep, he was vacant inside.
“You noticed too, huh?” Larry cleared his throat, giving me his full attention. “He’s losing hope.”
“But he can’t lose hope. He has to stay strong.” Tears sprang to my eyes. My emotions these days were haywire—completely uncontrollable. Most likely from lack of sleep, too many things to juggle, the stress of Dad’s frustration and Penn’s distancing, and my own belief that I should be able to fix this and couldn’t.
I’d tried calling the penitentiary where Greg was being held to ask again if he would revoke his statement—but he refused to take my calls. I requested visitation—he denied my name on his list of approved visitors. He blocked me from finding any relief or answers to ‘will he or won’t he’ try to bury Penn alive?
“He’s strong. He’s been strong on his own for a long time before we came along, Elle. Don’t take it to heart. He’s only doing what’s natural.”
“Natural? Shutting down is natural?”
“It is to him.” Larry sighed. “Think about it from his point of view. For years, he only had himself to rely on. He was hungry? He had to go steal or beg. He was cold? He had to find shelter or come up with a blanket. He was sick? He had to search for medicine or seek a place he could rest unmolested. He couldn’t feel down and let another carry his troubles for a while. He couldn’t hurt himself and expect someone else to feed and clothe him while he got better. It’s a coping mechanism.”
“I understand how it would’ve been imperative to keep his emotions in check when he was homeless, but he has us now. We’ll get him medicine, we’ll find him food, we’ll give him shelter—”
“You don’t get it, Elle,” Larry said softly. “Even though he’s placed his entire trust into our hands—his life and future, and he does believe we’re doing everything we can—he can’t help but expect to spend the rest of his life in there. Twig will try his hardest to make that come true. Greg will testify against him. His own past will throw away the key.”
“But...he can’t shut us out.”
He can’t shut me out. Not now...
“He can, Elle. If that’s what he needs to do to keep himself alive and stay above the severe depression that prisoners succumb to, he can do whatever it takes. We’ll stand by regardless if he’s the confident, slightly egotistical man we’ve come to love or a cold-hearted, standoffish son-of-a-bitch. You can’t give up on him.”
I marched to my desk and threw myself on the chair. “I’m not giving up on him.” My eyes fell onto the screen currently open on my laptop. A web browser I’d brought up this afternoon on a stupid whim.
I hadn’t expected any results...only...
“Wait a minute...” I pulled myself forward, clicking on the link. Information spewed forth, giving me a different kind of hope. If Penn was shutting down, he needed reminding of why he needed to stay very much alive. He needed to be touched, kissed, given the age old cure of a hug.
Guards wouldn’t allow that.
Visitation would only make it worse.
But there was one way.
A smile spread my lips. A sexy, sultry, entirely seductive smile, already imagining how incredible it would be if I could make it happen. “Larry, I have an idea.”
* * * * *
“I can’t believe you talked me into arranging this.” Larry rolled his eyes, but beneath his over-puffed drama, excitement and relief glowed.
He knew as well as I did something had to happen to get Penn back. We needed him with us to continue fighting, and hopefully...I could be the one to remind him of that.
“Sign here.” The prison guard pushed a form toward me. The fine print and pages of disclaimers were enough to put anyone off from signing.
But not me.
I grabbed his crappy pen and scrawled my name.
Honestly? I couldn’t believe this had happened. I hadn’t told Dad, Steve, or even Fleur. The only person who knew about my little quest and tonight’s accommodation was Larry, and even discussing it with him had been nerve wracking.
It had taken two weeks.
Two very long weeks since Larry had given me the contact details of the person I needed to hound and then together, we didn’t stop. Morning, afternoon, evening. Email, call, text, messenger, even tweet.
Over and over, we hounded and hounded until finally, we got an email giving us access with the firm instruction never to contact them again.
Never was a long time—especially if Penn’s court date remained forever locked in the future. But I wouldn’t worry about that now.
We’d won.
We were here.
At eight p.m. on a Wednesday, signing into the jail after visiting hours.
According to the prison roster, all inmates would’ve eaten, enjoyed rec time, and now be in their respective cells ready for lights out. Bedtime was early in this place. Morning alarm was even earlier.
Every man would be most likely stretched out on his cot, reading or passing the time in his imagination.
But not Penn.
Penn would be taken somewhere different. Somewhere he’d probably argue about and wonder why the hell he’d been separated and locked up in an unfamiliar place.
“Do you have all the necessary belongings?” The guard looked at my plastic see-through Hermes that held a change of clothes, my toothbrush, and other nighttime required accessories. The security processing had already x-rayed my things and cleared me.
“Yes, I’m all ready to go.” My voice pitched slightly higher with nerves.
“You’ll collect her first thing tomorrow?” The guard looked at Larry.
Larry gave my shoulder a squeeze as if I was about to go into a cage with a lion to tame it, instead of entering a cage with Penn to seduce him. “Yes, I will. Eight a.m. On the dot.”
Knowing he knew what I’d be doing tonight made me blush, but the experience at having a night alone with Penn made me bounce on the spot.
Thanks to my online research, I’d learned that only four states allowed conjugal visits and one of those states was New York. I also learned that only medium and lesser security prisons permitted them, and were entirely dependent on prisoner behavior. The lesser infractions the inmate had, the better chance of being granted one of three conjugal options: six, twelve, or twenty-four hours.
I’d pushed for twenty-four. I’d been granted twelve.
I wouldn’t argue because technically, in some states, you had to be legally married, and I didn’t want that nuisance to stop me.
We were engaged. I had witnesses from the office stating as much. If it came down to that...I would no longer fight against it or call it fake. Technically, I wasn’t even in a relationship with Penn. We’d never discussed exclusivity or rules. But just like I could tell h
e loved me, our hearts had decided that whatever this was—it was too deep to be labeled and too real to require laws to keep it alive.
Taking the form back, the guard checked I’d initialed each page and signed. I supposed the waiver was so in-depth because of prior incidents. The same website said an inmate murdered his girlfriend and committed suicide during one such visit in 2010.
The screening had tightened a lot since then.
“All right then, if you’ll follow me, Ms. Charlston.” The guard buzzed open a door, waiting for me to step through.
Larry gave me a wave, a chuckle escaping. “Well, Elle. Go give our boy one of the best nights of his life.”
My cheeks burned, but I smiled. “That’s my plan. See you in the morning.” As the door closed, absorbing me into the prison to have sex with my incarcerated fake fiancé, Larry blew me a kiss.
For a moment, my heart fluttered like any exciting date.
For a second...things were normal.
And then the door clanged shut, and my twelve short hours began.
Chapter Thirty
Penn
WHEN THE BELL rang to return to lock-up, a guard came for me.
All I earned was a barked command to grab my toothbrush and prison-issued pajamas and follow him.
To be honest, it freaked me the fuck out.
Why was I being picked on? Why had no one else been told to grab their shit and march to unknown territory?
He didn’t give me any other instruction, and I didn’t make small talk as I followed him out of general and through security. I was patted down as if I had an arsenal made from soap bars and candy wrappers stuffed in my pants, then directed down a series of hallways to a more modern, renovated side of the prison.
“In here.” The guard pointed at an open door. Inside was a king-sized bed with black linen, tables, lamps, a dark red rug, two towels rolled on a chair, and a plastic basket with lube and condoms. A door ajar hinted at a private bathroom complete with shower.
What the fuck is this place?
Was I about to get ass raped by some dude I’d somehow pissed off? Had the warden suddenly taken a liking to me?
Shit.
When I didn’t move, the guard pointed with a scowl. “Get in.”
“I, eh—what’s going on?”
“You’ll see if you get in.” He pointed again. “Now, Everett.”
Not given a choice, I stepped into the love dungeon and spun around just as my roommate for the night appeared.
A fucking angel with debauchery on her mind and sex in her smile.
Elle.
Chapter Thirty-One
Elle
I’D SURVIVED TWO and a half months without Penn in my day-to-day life.
I’d slept alone, I’d worked alone, I’d plotted his freedom every second I was awake.
Yet standing in that doorway, drinking him in while the guard reeled off the rules—
No BDSM
No anal
No toys
No role-play
No restraining
No airplay
—the minutes multiplied into years.
I wanted the officer gone. I’d never despised someone purely for talking before. Couldn’t he see how unwanted he was? How Penn undressed me with his eyes and I made love to him with mine?
God, I’d missed him.
To be so close but then have to listen to this idiot pompously announce the rules as if we were about to be introduced to the president was too much.
Penn locked in place—a mirror image of me. His hands curled into fists, the dark green of his uniform bunched with power from his muscles. He looked ready to explode, like a track runner waiting for the starting gun.
I trembled with the desire to kiss him. I melted with the need to have him kiss me. And still, the guard stood in our rapidly growing sexual tension, utterly oblivious.
“At seven a.m., you’ll be given breakfast and an hour to shower. Then at eight, you’ll be escorted back to your cell while your guest returns home.” The guard tapped his chin. “I think that’s it...oh, almost forgot—”
Penn snapped. “Goddammit.”
With bared teeth, he grabbed me by the hand, jerked me inside, and slammed the door in his face. “Fuck, we get it.”
A giggle erupted from my lips—partly from lust, mostly from giddiness at how vicious he looked. How wild and untamed and already delirious with the temptation of me...alone.
I doubted an inmate had willingly locked himself up before. I opened my mouth to joke, to break the unbearable awareness between us, but Penn marched me backward, his eyes sharp with need, and his face black with lust.
“Fuck, Elle.” His nose skimmed my throat, inhaling me, imprinting me, drowning in me. “What the fuck did you do?”
My spine slammed against the wall. His hands grabbed my wrists, pinning them brutally above my head; his body landed on mine, his hips drove forward, and his mouth...
God, his mouth sought mine with raunchy speed.
He didn’t speak again. He didn’t question or tease or ease into our physical reunion with soft licks or sweet caresses.
He exploded as if he’d ultimately die if he didn’t have me that very moment.
We kissed until we were breathless. Until his voice returned and he mumbled incoherent thanks. Nuzzling my hair, he whispered, “Christ, Elle. Did you arrange this? Arrange a night to be together? How?”
Kissing my cheek, my chin, my jaw in his race to capture my lips, his groan unraveled the rest of my decorum. I’d come here to seduce him. I’d expected a moment or two of uncertainty before we attacked each other.
I hadn’t expected him to turn rogue on me.
His lips found mine again.
He came utterly undone. His groan turned to a grunt, switching to a growl. He hummed, he purred, he sighed in utmost need.
His hips rocked forward, robbing me of breath as he pressed into me as hard as he could. His body tried to either consume mine or become one; regardless, we were still fully clothed.
I gasped, giving him access to my mouth as his hands formed tight cuffs around my wrists, his tongue diving deep, licking mine with impatience to join him in the frenzy.
He kissed and thrust as if he had twelve seconds to climb inside me not twelve hours.
There was no reprimand for touching. No bullhorns to separate. No knocks to keep our distance.
Just Penn and me.
Together.
Alone.
It didn’t matter we were guests of the state or the bed wasn’t our own.
All that mattered was our body heat as it exploded into sinful, the sweat slicking our skin in anticipation of joining, and the clenching in our bellies at just how good it would be to finally devour one another after so, so long.
Capturing both my wrists with one hand, he dropped his other to my neck. His fingers wrapped around my throat as he angled my head, taking me past the realms of sanity and into chaos with his kiss.
It hurt. It broke. It freed. It destroyed.
Teeth and tongue and wet and heat.
Our heads tilted and fought. Our breathing ragged and short. My lips burned from his as if we’d burst into flames.
His hand dropped from my throat, reacquainting itself with my breast. He pulled my nipple, rolled my weight, and squeezed the flesh until I cried out for more.
His touch moved again, this time dropping down my side to jerk my leg over his hip and angle my core, so his pants-clad erection pressed as perfect as ever, driving me crazy.
I’d deliberately worn a floaty daisy print skirt. Something he could gather and hoist up—which he did.
I’d purposely gone without underwear. So he could reach between my legs and find—which he did.
His mouth tore away from mine as his fingers found the slick heat that’d burned in me for months. Nothing could damper my need for him. No personal late-night ministrations. No celibacy. No tricks. Only he could help me because he was the one who ruined
me.
“Fucking hell...” Pulling his fingers away, he brought them to his lips and licked. His eyes rolled back, his knees buckled. He stumbled away to slam onto the bed. “Christ, I missed you.”
I expected him to command me to join him. To reach out and tug my wrist to strip me of everything and command me to my hands and knees. I didn’t care what position he wanted. I just wanted.
But he leaned forward with his hands clutching his head, the slickness of my desire still coating his fingers. “As much as I want you. Shit, I can’t—”
Ice water replaced the fire inside. I brushed my skirt down, wishing I had scaffolding for my knees to hold up the wreck he’d made of them. “Wh—what?”
He shook his head, bending over his legs. “I can’t. We’re in fucking prison. You came here for me. You’re ruining your life for me just so I can get laid.”
“Hey!” My temper burst. “You have it all wrong.” Moving to stand in front of him, I snapped, “I’m here because I want to be here. I want you to do this.” I stroked his hair, running my fingers through the overgrown strands. “I need you to do this.”
He looked up, swatting my hand away with rage. “I’m not going to fuck you in jail, Elle.” His eyes turned tortured as they skimmed over the beads of my nipples visible in the tight singlet I wore. “Even though I’m dying to be inside you.”
I stepped back, searching his face.
In all my planning and hounding for this night to happen, I never envisioned him refusing me.
God, it hurt.
My chest squeezed as if my ribs had become an overzealous corset. My heart slunk away, reprehended with its tail between its legs. My breath caught when he looked up, glowering with unflinching morality. “You should go, Elle.”
“Go?”
He nodded. “I can’t do this with you.”
I hated he was firm with commitment and convicted with certainty. The decision to deny what we desperately needed from each other all because of some stupid ideal.
He’d made that decision without me. He’d reached that conclusion without discussing it.
As we stared, I fought for calmness. An assurance that he couldn’t just kick me out. That we had twelve hours. I’d paid ten dollars for this room. I’d signed the forms that promised no cameras would record our time, no recording devices, or guard supervision.