Page 5 of Pretty Cruel Love

After devouring the rest of the bar, I unwrap another and wolf it down.

Okay, one more...

Without even realizing it, I’ve inhaled an entire box, and I can’t stop. I need more. Ideservemore.

The seventh one is halfway down my throat when I hear heavy footsteps echoing in the hall.

Shit.

I stop mid-bite, contemplating my best options: run and hide in the closet, play dumb and pretend he left it open on purpose, or break down in tears and beg him not to punish me.

“Hello, Sadie Pretty…”

A deep and husky voice—one that sends a warm jolt through every nerve in my body, one that definitely doesn’t belong to the warden—brings my entire world to a halt.

“I’ve been looking forward to seeing you for a long time,” he says. “Turn around for me.”

I obey, slowly turning, and my jaw drops as I take in the full portrait of this man.

His ocean-blue eyes are the kind of beautiful that artists spend their entire lives trying to recreate on canvas, only to eventually settle for a cheap imitation.

His ink-black hair is cut into short, low layers that complement his perfectly chiseled jawline, and I feel the sudden urge to tell him he’s the sexiest man on the planet.

His lips curve into a slow smile as I stare at him, and I almost forget where the hell we are.

I’m too captivated to move, and I can feel ice cream dripping from my lips to my chin.

“Is something wrong back there, Doctor?” The warden's voice floats down the hall. “My favorite inmate didn’t make a run for it, did she?”

“Not at all,” the man answers, keeping his eyes anchored to mine.

Strolling toward me, he stops when he’s too close—when his Italian leather shoes brush against my plastic tennis shoes.

Without saying a word, he extends his hand and presses two fingers under my bottom lip. Then he gently pushes upward, closing my gaping mouth.

My breathing slows at his soft, yet dominant touch.

I can’t remember the last time someone touched me like I was more than my sentence. Like I was still human.

Still staring into my eyes, he brushes his fingers against the corners of my mouth—slowly erasing every last drip of ice cream, wiping away every trace of my stolen sweetness.

“Can I have this?” he asks, his voice low.

I’m not sure whatthisis, but whatever it is, he can have it. All of it.

Smiling, he takes the crumpled ice cream wrappers from my hand and slides them into his pocket.

“Hurry the hell up, Pretty!” the warden growls. “I’m trying to give the good doctor a proper introduction!”

I take one last look atthe good doctorbefore grabbing my supply box and carrying it back to the living room.

I settle into my usual corner, propping an easel against a chair and preparing to take notes for my next forced creation.

“Ah, I see why you got distracted back there.” The warden grins as the doctor returns with a half-eaten ice cream bar in hand. “You discovered my secret stash. Funny thing… Miss Pretty has never even thought about stealing one for herself. That’s why I trust her so damn much.”

“Good to know.” A faint smile crosses the doctor's lips.

“I think she deserves one after all this time, though.” He opens the minibar at the bottom of his bookshelf, where he keeps a backup stash. Then he sets an ice cream bar beside my sketchpad.

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