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310 pages, ebook
First published April 15, 2014
A tall figure came through the door. I knew who it was without even raising my eyes. Broad shoulders and slim hips, long legs. Overgrown dark hair. Eyes hot enough to singe. Fuck.
Darling,
I missed you since your last visit.
A few minutes a week with you is almost more cruel than it’s worth.
I miss you every minute we’re apart.
And I watch the clock every morning when I think I might be seeing you again.
It’s not all red. I’m not a total whore. Just a partial one. Just a splash of whore.All Eric wants to be is the type of man that Annie deserves. It’s hard with him being in prison, but he tries.
Were bad, violent crimes only done by bad, violent men? Could a man who was fundamentally bad make a woman feel the way Eric Collier had made me feel all these weeks?
‘I don’t think you’ve got any clue what it means that you let me write these letters. It gets me so riled up it hurts. But I like it. I imagine it’s some spell you’ve got me under. Makes me want to be all kinds of ways with you.’
‘I think about kissing you like I said. Real deep and slow with our eyes closed. Maybe feel your hands on my chest or my back. As I hold your face or hair. As I got to see if you taste like sugar to match how you sound.’
‘Sometimes my favorite thing to imagine is just us on a big soft couch. Me on the end and you between my legs, on my lap kind of. I could feel your hair on my cheek while we watched a movie maybe, and I could smell your skin. It would drive me crazy.’
And he told me about the things he wanted to do to me, the places he wanted to take me, if he could. The things about me that took his mind off his daily life, and roused his body in idle moments. And I wondered if he wasn't a bank robber after all, the way he kept making off with my heart.
That stare. That unreadable expression, an impossible mix of apathy and fascination, coldness and seduction.
His attention had become some strange, dark, private treat to brighten the toughest day of my week, and I'd come to crave it.
Were bad, violent crimes only done by bad, violent men? Could a man who was fundamentally bad make a woman feel the way Eric Collier had made me feel, all these weeks?
I want to be someone who deserves to be with somebody like you.
His near black hair was due for a cut in fact, curling under his ears. Dark brows, dark stubble, dark lashes and eyes. And he was handsome. So handsome he broke your heart
Annie Goodhouse doesn’t need to be warned about bad boys; good sense and an abusive ex have given her plenty of reasons to play it safe. But when she steps into her new role as outreach librarian for Cousins Correctional Facility, no amount of good sense can keep her mind—or eyes—off inmate Eric Collier.
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"FORGET THAT BIRACIAL BUDDIES SHAWSHANK SHIT. CHOCOLATE AND VANILLA DON’T MIX IN HERE"
"Whores wear red," my grandma had told me once – she’d walked in while I was watching Pretty Woman. I must have been fifteen. I’d told her, "She is a whore, Gram." And she’d nodded sagely and said, "Stands to reason."
My arousal went from mouse to cat. Feral to wicked
His body shocked the very breath out of me. Tan and strong and fucking cut.
"The most honest man I've ever known, and I met him in prison." - Annie
"The nicest woman I ever knew, and she took up with a convict." - Eric
"Darling,
I missed you since our last visit. A few minutes a week with you is almost more cruel than it's worth. I miss you every minute we're apart, and watch the clock every morning when I think I might be seeing you again. I wish I could see you, away from here. (...) I watch your hands and imagine them on me.
Yours,
Eric"
"Kiss me." I murmured, the words with desperation.
"I only get to do it once, for the first time."
"I'm going to die if you don't."
His lips twitched and his eyes narrowed, crinkling. "Remind me which of us has been locked up for five years."
"I want to be somebody who deserves to be with somebody like you."["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>["br"]>
"The most honest man I bet I've ever known, and I met him in prison."
"The nicest woman I ever knew, and she took up with a convict."
"Five years since I'd wanted to feel sexual, and invite that attention. Five years since Eric Collier had been with a woman. A long time since a woman had felt like a woman, and a man like a man. A long time for two people to shut their needs in the dark..."
"His hand closed around mine, strong and possessive. The hand that'd done unspeakable things in the name of brotherly love. A hand capable of the tenderest acts of intimacy and affection. The hand that had penned the most breathtaking letters, for my eyes alone. I'd hold it tight as we went forward together, sure as I clung to it now. Tight as I'd ached to hold it, back when such a thing had been forbidden. I'd never let it go again, no matter where we ended up....somewhere warm, someday. Somewhere that belonged to the both of us, far away from the hard cinderblock of Cousins. Out of the cruel cold. Into the light and hope and excitement of our future, whatever it might look like. Into the bright promises of spring, when the entire world wore green."
With that man in my blood, no drink in the world stood a chance at getting me even half as high.
I’m not afraid of you, I wanted to tell him.
I’m afraid of me. What I’m capable of.
”Take me. Take me like this is your birthday - like you can have anything you want.”
Everything’s so hard in here. And mean and ugly and loud. I know you want to hear dark things, but what I say about the romantic stuff I want to do with you, I want that so bad I can’t tell you. I want to be in a room with you, so quiet I can hear your breathing and your heart. A place so clean I could smell your skin.
My coat, then his draped on top.
Gloves, his hoodie and hat, my scarf - a big rumpled heap of the two of us.
Two pairs of boots leaning into one another like weary travellers.
And he's a prisoner- that' the other reason. That was why I wanted him. Because he was untouchable, the very urge impossible. Because he's dangerous, but this crush-if that's what it was- is safe.
" Jesus." I sat up straight, anger and words tumbling free like a landslide. "Are you blaming your brother for your assault? How the fuck is that his fault?"
"He gave up five years of his life for your honour," I told her. I sounded shrill and petulant, but fuck it. "That not compensation enough for how-ever it is you feel like he disappointed you?"