Sins of Mine - Mary E. Twomey Page 0,20

to get their soundbites. “Isn’t that shirt you’re wearing from Natalia’s Secret?”

I grin, glad he noticed. “Why, you’re absolutely right.” Without hesitation, I tug the white blouse over my head and dangle it over the fire, holding my head up for all to see.

If the cameras were flashing before, they’re ravenous now.

“Much better,” I declare to the world. Then, to the nearest camera, I say, “You treated us like we didn’t matter, but by this time next month, you and anyone like you will be obsolete. The world doesn’t have a need for companies who care more about their bottom line than they do about the people they’re profiting off of.”

I glance down, and knowing that if I want to take down the dreaded chain, I need maximum exposure.

Sloan’s mouth tightens. “Don’t you dare.”

I turn my back to the cameras. “Might want to have your suit jacket ready.”

“You get to explain this one to your father.”

“Happily.”

The world gets a juicy shot of my bare back as the gold lace slides off my torso. My heavy breasts spring free, and though none of my campers are near to the gate, I’m not exactly out of sight.

The bra is top of the line, but it burns just fine.

I turn my head over my shoulder, banding an arm across my chilled nipples so no one gets me at just the wrong angle. “I will not support corruption, and I will not be supported by corruption!” I shout to the reporters.

Sloan keeps his eyes skyward. He’s an equal mix of embarrassed and frustrated as he removes his suit jacket and drapes it over my shoulders. “Are you trying to give me a heart attack? We’re going to have words about this when we get back to the house.”

“Can’t wait.” I lean up and smooch his cheek, my whole being lighter than air after shedding the things that simply don’t belong in my community of sinners.

The Three of Us

Arlanna

My shower was supposed to be brief after the long day of work, but some of the concrete stubbornly sticks onto my skin and hair, requiring more than one round of scrubbing.

An entire street of houses has been set on their freshly poured foundations. A dozen mobile homes on one side, and a dozen on the other. There are four people to a home for now, so that means nearly a hundred people have permanent lodging.

Today we started on the second street, pouring foundations at a pace fueled by triumph. The anticipation of getting people into proper homes united us, but moving them in? It cemented our camp together.

They call us the Commune of Sinners, but I’ve never seen a more giving bunch. Everyone pitched in to clean out, fix up and scrub down the mobile homes.

My goal is to have everyone in a proper home before the first snowflake falls.

I don’t take for granted the fact that I have clean towels that are plush, without a hint of mass incarceration to them. Mine match my bathroom, which has deep purple accents and a golden mini chandelier hanging overhead. There are ornamented elephants embroidered along the bottoms of my towels. When I wrap myself in their softness, I sigh at the luxury.

If I’m being honest, I miss my life of extreme luxury a little bit, but not as much as I thought I would. Perhaps prison deprogramed me. Perhaps survival has shaken things up so the world is in a better focus. This mid-level home filled with creature comforts is all the luxury I need.

Plus my sweet Everly Ann, who yips at me to tell me how much she loves me.

This place is filled with love, so there’s not much to complain about.

Except that Gray’s not been home in days.

I pick up my pup and bury my nose in her neck, kissing her too often because I’m still making up for lost time. When I set her back down, she wags her tail at me, her pink collar jingling because she’s happy we’re back together.

I’ve been falling asleep in one of Paxton’s undershirts, and haven’t bothered dressing with purpose in a while. But as I slip the blush material over my head, I realize my mistake in forsaking the finer things.

Elizabeth Lauren’s Vault really set me up with the good stuff. The fitted nighttime crop top falls to the middle of my ribs and shows off just how much manual labor my muscles have endured. The spaghetti straps lead to the bust, which is sheer and lined