Throne of Truth

After an hour, electricity laced those touches, zapping my belly, liquefying my insides. I couldn’t prevent the way my heart imitated a bowling ball, knocking down my ribs as if they were skittle pins.

No one else noticed but my cheeks slowly glowed—and not from alcohol. Desire for him bubbled inside until the barest brush sent a lustful convulsion through me.

Need built and built until it was unbearable.

Half an hour later, Fleur whispered in my ear that she was taking off because she had a feeling Penn and I weren’t going to be around much longer.

I playfully scolded her then kissed her goodbye.

I needed to be alone with Penn, but I wouldn’t be rude and rob the others from sharing in this hard-earned party.

So, despite fireworks fizzing in my blood, we ordered French fries and prawn twisters. We downed more drinks. And when I excused myself to go to the bathroom, Penn found me like he had the night at the Palm Politics.

He didn’t say a word.

He slammed me hard against a wall and kissed me so deep, I almost combusted. His tongue was totally sinful. His hands absolutely sexual. His cock throbbing as he wedged it firm against me with a glitter in his gaze. “I need to be alone with you. Now.”

Words were hard to come by. He’d incinerated my insides. Burned my synapses. I merely nodded and allowed him to take my hand.

He dragged me back to the table of partiers where we said a guilty goodbye.

Then we caught the first taxi we saw back to his place.

* * * * *

“The blood’s gone.”

A random thing to notice the moment I stepped into Penn’s apartment, but my nerves jangled. I hadn’t been in his place since the day he’d rescued me and started to tell me the truth, only for the police to rip him away for the second time.

“You’re right.” His calculating eyes, which once made me nervous, but now only revealed his keen intelligence, flickered from spotless kitchen to tidy living room. No bed sheets strewn across the floor, no blood, no signs of a fight. “Larry must’ve arranged a cleaning crew.”

I hid a grin, kicking off my black heels and placing my handbag on the kitchen counter. “I’m glad. I don’t exactly feel like doing housework.” I hadn’t meant it to come out so sexual, but it did. My voice was scratchy with desire, the need to touch him with no more rules or cages unbearable.

Only, he didn’t attack me like he had on the night of our conjugal visit. He didn’t pad barefoot toward me sensually. He merely stood in the center of his home and jammed his hands into his pockets the same way he did the very first time we met.

Knowing what I knew now, I understood why.

It was his form of protection against others and himself.

His arms bunched beneath the white shirt he’d rolled up to his elbows; black slacks hung off his hips too big, and his fists balled in pockets that made my heart sob with familiarity.

Despite the events keeping us apart, we’d grown to know each other. I knew enough to predict how he would react. And he knew enough to preempt my answer.

We stood staring at each other as if we couldn’t believe this was real. That we were back here, alone, and unsupervised. Free to do whatever we damn well wanted.

I smiled, suddenly shy and overwhelmed by how simple but heavily charged the moment had become.

Penn’s lips matched mine in a sweet smirk, the stress, worry, and panic of the trial finally slipping off his shoulders, down his arms, and into his pockets. Instead of loose change and old receipts, those slacks held five months of jail time, so Penn no longer had to.

It was me who moved first.

Undoing the buttons on my dark gray blazer, I stepped toward him. My pantyhosed feet slicked over the hardwood floor, making me shiver. Penn didn’t move as I released the final button and allowed the jacket to puddle down my arms to the floor.

Never breaking eye contact, I reached behind me and undid the zipper on my skirt. Running my hands over my hips, I pushed the slinky lining down my body, wriggling slowly to ease the fabric off.

Penn clenched his jaw, his chest flexing as he forced himself to keep his hands in his pockets. “Elle...” He bit his bottom lip as his eyes glued to my fingers gliding up my body to undo the tiny buttons of my pale cream shirt.

I had no plan of seduction. I hadn’t come here with the idea of stripping for him. But the way he watched me, drank me, breathed me.

God, it was the best aphrodisiac.

My stomach fluttered beneath the buttons as I undid them one by one. My core clenched as he let out a long ragged groan of pure male appreciation.

Yet he didn’t touch me.

His lips parted to breathe heavier. His body swayed as if summoned by some invisible force to link with mine, but he permitted me to finish whatever striptease I wanted.

I had no urge to speak as I undid the last button and slid the shirt down my arms, letting it cascade on top of my jacket and skirt. Words were cheap when our stares said everything we ever needed to hear.

I want you.

You’re mine.

I need you.

I’m yours.

We’re free.

We’re together.

Standing before him in my cream bra and panties decorated with black lace stars with garters and stockings, I felt stronger than I ever had before.

I’d worn a suit to court to borrow authority from cotton and silk but stripped of them now, left only in lace and pantyhose, I was more powerful, more invincible, more desirable than any outfit in the world.

Penn sucked in a gasp. His voice teasing a whisper. “You’re so beautiful.”