“Look at your hands,” I said, taking his hands in mine and turning them palms up. “The person who murdered those people cut them apart with a dull kitchen knife. It would be almost impossible for you to do that now, much less when you were younger and weaker.” I wanted to hear him admit that he was innocent. I needed it. “Think about the boy you used to be, Christopher. Is that something you think you’re capable of?”

He wasn’t looking at his palms, his eyes darting all around the room.

“Look at them!” I yelled.

His eyes clashed with mine before they dipped down and scanned his palms.

“I did those things, Lyla. I remember the blood. I remember all of it. I was scared and I was angry, but I don’t remember why. I don’t care what you think because I know what I did. I earned every X I ever marked on my walls. I hurt people. It’s the only thing I’m good at.”

“The Xs on your walls? That’s why you mark them? For the people you hurt?”

He looked me in the eye, taking me in and making me feel exposed.

“The Xs are my graveyard. They remind me of the monster I’ve become. Every time I hurt someone, I mark it on the wall. I mourn each and every one of them every day. I mourn them, and I mourn the boy I used to be. He’s gone, Lyla, and he’s never coming back.”

My heart broke for him. Every day, he stared at that wall, counting his sins and reliving some of his worst nightmares over and over again. He wasn’t an evil monster. He wasn’t counting his Xs as victories. Instead, it was his way of owning up to what he’d done.

Picturing him in his cold, dark cell alone, mourning the loss of his life outside Fulton, being reminded every day of the terrible things he’d supposedly done, made me want to cry for him.

How could he have lived like that for ten long years?

Tears pricked at my eyes, and I stood and turned away. My time was coming up soon anyway. It wouldn’t be long before the COs came in.

“I’ll see you when you get back to Fulton.” I grabbed my purse and the paperwork I’d pulled out.

As I turned to leave, he reached out and grabbed my hand. Warmth crawled up to my elbow, sending tingles up my shoulder. His fingers intertwined with mine, and I closed my eyes at the sensation.

He tugged, pulling me onto his chest and making me gasp out loud. His free hand moved into the hair at my cheek, softly twisting into the strands I’d left free.

“Lyla.” My name rushed from his lips like a prayer.

His eyes were glued to mine with a passion I couldn’t continue to ignore. My stomach twisted and my brain filled with fog. Warmth rushed through me and I leaned closer, wanting so badly so feel the stubble of his cheeks against my face. He pushed his rough cheek against mine and a manly sound rushed past my ear, making my breathing accelerate.

Sliding his lips along my cheek, he kissed the side of my jaw, warm and soft. When he pulled back, his eyes went to mine, searching for any indication that I was okay with what was about to happen. Whatever he saw gave him permission because he moved quickly, pressing his hot lips against mine and sending my brain spiraling.

His lips were thick and soft, unmarred in their wickedness. I leaned into him, going onto the tips of my toes as I pressed for more. There was no denying it anymore—I wanted him. It was different from the way I’d wanted my high school boyfriend or the guy I dated for a few weeks while I was in nursing school. This want blazed inside of me, sending heated rushes down my spine and into my thighs.

No one had ever made me feel this way, and I knew that the tiny taste of him would never be enough. There was no going back. Time had stopped on our little moment, and I silently wished it to stay paused—to sneak a lifetime into these few minutes with him.

When he ran his tongue along the seam of my lips, I let him in, tasting him as he sweetly sucked my tongue into him mouth. There was nothing else. There were no COs posted outside the door. No lifetime sentences stuck between us. There was only him and me, and his succulent lips taking me away to a place I hoped to visit often.

His fingers sifted through my hair before running along the base of my neck. I pulled away to release a tiny moan, and his grip on the back of my head tightened, pulling me deeper into his kiss. He growled against my mouth, letting me know he wanted me, and desire pooled between my legs in a wet slide of want.

A sound alerted me outside the door and I pulled away quickly, my hand flying to my swollen lips. Stepping away from his side, I adjusted myself and looked away from him. He was too tempting—too sexy—too ready to give me something I’d never experienced. Something primal and filled with sin. Something that made me clench my thighs tightly and lick at my lips to taste him.