Throne of Truth (Truth and Lies Duet #2)(63)

Chapter Twenty-Eight


Penn


ANOTHER THREE WEEKS passed like soldiers marching me closer to battle.

Two months in this shitty place.

Two months of slop for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Two months of bad sleep, aching misery, and unbearable loneliness.

Two months that Elle and Larry went above and beyond for me.

Twice a week—which was my total allotted amount—regardless if I argued or begged for more—she and Larry would call. His conversations were upbeat and positive. Her chats were sex-loaded and frustrated. Talking to Elle made my cock ache and heart squeeze with need.

We never stepped over that line of turning a call into a pleasure fest, but it was hard. So fucking hard.

Especially when her innocent questions like if I was comfy in bed at night were answered by my libido admitting how hard and uncomfortable it was—just like every inch of me dying to sink inside her.

When visitations were permitted, she and Larry came as a pair. A new duo with a bond building by the day. They were no longer acquaintances brought together because of mutual affection for me. They were friends fighting the same battle.

Elle came with gifts such as freshly baked lemon squares from her kitchen. Prisoners weren’t allowed to take such presents back to our cells, but we were allowed to eat as much as we could while in the common room, listening to tales of the outside world.

The world I should be a part of but had been stolen from.

Would I have gone after her if I’d known this would happen? Would I have beaten Greg up or merely waited until David arrived to do the dirty work?

I liked to think my answers would switch on those questions. But they never did.

I wouldn’t change a thing. I wouldn’t have waited for her father or bodyguard to do my job as her lover and protector. I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands to myself, knowing Greg had touched her.

He got what he deserved. And who knew? Maybe I got what I deserved, too.

I’d been an asshole to her. I’d lied and manipulated and cheated her feelings for me three years ago with the feelings she had for me now.

If this was my karma, I’d learned my fucking lesson.

I just wanted to go home with her and never let her out of my sight again.

I would never tell her, but her visits kept me breathing, yet they also stole my courage to keep going. She was so vibrant—so passionate in her fight to free me. So full of trust when before she’d been so riddled with doubt.

Two weeks ago, she broke the rules and hugged me in the common hall just because she couldn’t be close and not touch. She risked a visitation ban when she kissed me last week to catcalls of other inmates. Promising me that we would find a way to get me free while being so goddamn sexy, I struggled not to come just from inhaling her perfume.

She gave me life, and she took my life. I hated that she was out there, working so fucking hard on my behalf when all I could do was sit on my ass and count the seconds as they evolved into minutes.

She didn’t notice my slowly dwindling enthusiasm or my wavering belief that I’d be acquitted soon.

I smiled, I teased, I lusted.

But behind that, I slowly became lost. I reverted to the homeless kid who had nothing but a pillow and a blanket surrounded by thieves. I struggled to maintain my humanity when all I wanted to do was kill the motherfucker who put me here.

Arnold Twig shared my mind almost as much as Elle did.

My hate festered, making me snap at those I cared about when really I should grovel on my knees for all they’d done.

Larry kept pushing for a trial date and kept being told everything was going as fast as it could. No matter who he called or threatened, nothing progressed.

And through it all, I slowly shut down. I packed away my need for Elle, my love for Stewie, my friendship with Gio, and my gratitude to Larry. Piece by piece, I systematically placed each person I cared about into boxes and sealed them tight.

I placed them in the basement below my heart and locked the door.

Because part of me believed the worst.

I was in here now.

And no matter what we tried, I wasn’t getting out.





Chapter Twenty-Nine


Elle


“SOMETHING’S WRONG, LARRY. I can feel it.”

I pressed my cell-phone hard against my ear as I paced my office. Sage trotted after me with every beeline from my desk to the door. The same door where Penn made me drop to my knees for him. Where he made me come just by pressing against me. Where he’d come the first time and showed me there wouldn’t be any bullshit between us when it came to how much we wanted each other.

Those first weeks of our relationship seemed shallow now—all based on sex and no emotion. I’d allowed him to entrap me in orgasms and pleasure, keeping his truth hidden because I didn’t have the courage to poke behind his lies.

But that was all over now.

Now, I only needed to look at Penn to know how he was feeling. His dark coffee eyes were so expressive; I doubted how I ever listened to his fibs in the first place. The way he held his stress like a boulder across his shoulders, how his jaw never fully relaxed, how his nostrils flared when he answered questions he didn’t like, how his voice pitched into gravel whenever he told me how much he missed me.

His face was an encyclopedia into his heart. It had dictionary references and thesaurus connotations, revealing what an arched eyebrow meant compared to a tongue flicking over his bottom lip.