Caught by the Convicts by Jessa Kane

Author:Jessa Kane [Kane, Jessa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-07-10T18:30:00+00:00

Chapter 5

Wendy

I’d managed to convince myself that afternoon at the prison never happened.

Avoidance is a powerful drug.

With Klay and Ruger out of sight, I could wake up every morning, go to my job, eat dinner, watch television. All normal things. They might have come to me late at night in my dreams, but during the day, I could deny how thoroughly they sapped my willpower in that prison cell. How their calloused hands on my skin felt like a prayer being answered. I’ve never been fulfilled. Not a single second in my life. Until them.

Until they converged on me and we absorbed each other. Became one.

So obviously I’m bananas.

I’ve lost it.

I can’t just allow two escaped—presumably dangerous—convicts into my home and allow them to slake their hunger with my body. But that’s exactly what I’ve done. No matter that the last half an hour has transcended time and space. I’m pretty sure I saw the face of God somewhere in the middle. Heard the angels singing.

And it has to be the last time. Allowing these men to sleep in my bed? That makes me an accomplice. I’ve given seriously new meaning to aiding and abetting.

I spent the first sixteen years of my life tiptoeing around my father’s danger, trying not to get burned. Or tip the scale of his temper. Since then, I’ve tried to outrun him. To move on with my life. But until he was imprisoned, he kept showing up, pulling me back into the quicksand. Terrifying me. Making me feel small and unworthy. Manipulating me.

These men are of the same ilk, aren’t they?

Offenders.

Men who are such a hazard to the public, they have to be locked in a cell to prevent them from committing any harm. I should have fought harder when Klay’s sensuality started to overwhelm me. I should be sneaking out of bed now and calling the police. Or running to my car and driving away as fast as I can. Yet here I remain. Soaking up the heat of these two men, feeling their heartbeats against my body and being lulled by the rhythm.

Ruger’s hand sits possessively on my hip, his chest hair tickling my spine.

Klay’s face is in sleepy repose on the pillow, mere inches from my face. When awake, he’s obscenely gorgeous. Asleep, he’s a wicked angel that has been booted out of heaven. Probably for excessive vanity.

A tug of affection for both men doesn’t even catch me off guard.

No, I felt something similar the day of the prison riot.

These men being in my life almost seems fated. There’s a sense of completion when they are touching me, talking to me, talking to each other about me. It’s like I’ve woken up in a new land with a unique language that somehow makes perfect sense to my ears. To my body.

In their roughness tonight, they cherished me.

And each other—though I sense they haven’t admitted it.

There’s a deep undercurrent between Ruger and Klay that excites me. That hesitant lust exhilarates and fulfills me almost as much as their hunger for me.

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