Page 63 of Unspoken Lies
Her eyes widen as her lips part in surprise. “God, so much has happened, I’ve been lucky to think less about him,” she says. “What happened?”
“I began to stalk him,” I rasp. “There was no way in hell he was going to live in the same prison cell block as me and I wasn’t going to take my shot at him. Somehow, I never saw him until that day. I was pretty in my head, to be fair, but once I saw him, I knew that he was dead. My cellmate realized that I was hyperfixating, and offered to help with a riot he was already in the process of initiating. Colton Baal is dead. There’s no coming back from cellmates trying to kick your head off your shoulders like a soccer ball.”
“Holy shit,” Rachelle breathes. “That’s… is it morbid to say thank you?”
“No thanks needed,querida,”I say, smirking. “I needed to know that he was dead. As cliche as shivs are, that’s what I buried into his throat.”
“You just became five times hotter,” Liliana teases me as she begins to heat up the tortillas. I can see the meat is almost ready as well. Fuck, I wasn’t hungry before but I am now.
She even made homemade salsa last night. Granted, we ate at least half of it with chips, but that’s neither here nor there.
“Well thanks, I think?” I ask, chuckling.
Lifting Rachelle from her chair, I settle her on the counter facing me.
“You’re all muscles now,” she murmurs, letting her fingers ghost up my arms.
“Mmhmm,” I murmur.
“You may as well kiss her so I can next,” Liliana teases me, grabbing plates. “No, don’t come help me.”
My body was already shifting and I pout at her before my hands cup Rachelle’s face.
“Can I kiss you?” I ask.
“I think you’d better,” she says softly.
My lips cover hers before I can think to move, and I’m devouring her. She tastes like sin and innocence, and her hands tighten around my arms as she moans. My tongue pushes between her lips, swiping along hers, my hand grabs her ass to push her right against my erection, and I groan at how her legs wrap around my waist.
“As much as I endorse porn, I don’t think that the island would survive it,” Liliana says, snickering.
I’m breathing hard as I pull back. Rachelle’s cheeks are pink, her face trying to follow before she opens her eyes and blushes even deeper. Lifting her off the counter, I place her in the seat before presenting the picture of innocence to Liliana.
It feels as if Rachelle is just stepping into the place she’s always been meant to fill. I know there’s work to be done between us all, history to discuss, but that can all happen later. None of the above things are anything that can hurt Rachelle.
It can wait.
“No tienes nada de inocente,” Liliana says about my supposed innocence. “Grab the salsa please and a spoon.”
Moving at her will, I sit back down to see her and Rachelle excitedly building their tacos. Popping open the salsa, I smirk as I begin to do the same.
“What’s the one thing that you’re excited about being out of prison?” Rachelle asks, taking a bite of her taco. It’s a healthy bite, one that has her eyes fluttering closed as she moans.
It helps my heart settle, hoping that she hasn’t been punishing herself by restricting her food intake. Rachelle enjoys eating, maybe all her anxiety and depression truly kept her from wanting to eat. I’ll need to watch to make sure.
“No schedule,” I say to her. “No one telling me what to do, soft blankets, being able to sleep without the lights on. That all pales in comparison to being able to see the people I love though.”
Rachelle’s smile is open and sweet, with a few tears as she nods.
“What do you do at home?” Liliana asks. “Mr. Emil is very bossy. If he shipped me off to college, I can only imagine that he’d insist that you finish school.”
“I did online school to finish,” Rachelle says. “I’m in online classes for college now. It fills my time, but it all feels empty a lot of the time. I haven’t felt like there’s a point outside of ticking off boxes on a list.”
“Is there an actual list or is this made up?” I ask her, moaning as I finish my taco.
Rachelle and Liliana’s eyes heat, and I don’t think I’ve ever realized how sexual eating could be.
“It’s kind of both,” she says, taking a sip of water from the bottle she brought in. The salsa has a kick, so I get up to get glasses filled for Liliana and I. “My therapist and I created oneto keep me connected to the world. It’s harder to check out when leaving is difficult. The other is for me.”
