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 he 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.