Dirtiest Secret by Kenner J

Author:Kenner, J. [Kenner, J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary, Adult, Suspense
ISBN: 9781101967454
Amazon: 1101967455
Goodreads: 26150622
Publisher: Bantam
Published: 2016-04-19T07:00:00+00:00

I’m not sure if I’ve got it right on the page of the screenplay, but in my mind, the scene is perfectly clear. The terror. The uncertainty. The cold even in the warmest room, because there is no way to soothe the icy fear that fills your veins and makes you shiver.

I don’t know how those kids found comfort, but I survived only because of Dallas. His strength and, yes, his touch.

I sigh, then put my laptop aside and stand. I need to focus on the work. My memories can help me, but I can’t let them take over.

I cross to the edge of the terrace and look out over my neighborhood at the stunning townhouses filled with people and their secrets. In a weird way, it’s comforting to know that they all have secrets. They all have things they regret, things they want, things they lost. Some have probably suffered more than I have.

I barely know these people, but I know I’m not alone, and it’s a nice feeling. I breathe in, wondering if my social worker should say something like that to the parents. Maybe in act two, when—

I catch a glimpse of the outdoor clock and curse. It’s already close to four and I’m not showered or dressed. Damn.

I hurry back inside and then down the stairs to my bedroom. I know Brody will forgive me if I’m late, but it will drive me crazy. I start stripping off my clothes the moment I’m through my door, and by the time I’ve crossed to my bathroom, I’m naked.

I get the shower going, and step in. I tilt my head back, and as I let the water wash over my face, I’m still thinking of Dallas. Still thinking of the dark and the terror. There’d been the Jailer, who came to me only once, his face hidden and his voice altered. And the Woman, who brought us food. She always wore a loose, flowing gown like a caftan, so shapeless it was impossible to tell if she was thin or curvy. She kept her hair hidden beneath a hood, and she wore a carnival-style black mask.

After the initial horror of cat food and starvation, she came somewhat regularly, leaving overcooked slabs of meat or cold cans of vegetables on the floor. There were no knives, no forks. And only one bottle of water at a time.

But mostly she stayed away, and in the gray light, Dallas and I lost ourselves in each other.

The first time had been sweet and tender and wonderful despite the hell of our situations and surroundings. It had been an escape. A release.

Hell, sex had been a sanctuary into which we disappeared as often as we could, losing ourselves in each other. Comforting. Soothing. Making silent promises that we would always be there for the other. That somehow, together, we were strong enough to survive.

We weren’t always together, though. Sometimes the Woman came to separate us. To take me away to a dark room where I’d be tied to a cement table.

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