“I hate thewhat do you like to doquestion,” I explain, refusing to make eye contact.
He waits for me to elaborate.
“I do a ton of shit, but do you think I can remember any of it when I’m asked like that? It’s like the question itself is some kind of mind wipe. All I can ever think of is the threeFs all cockatrice love, but honestly, I’m over one of theFs, so that answer is one-third a lie.”
Rook chuckles. “The threeFs?” he queries.
“Man, you weren’t kidding about your lounge keeping to themselves, were you? Everyone knows the threeFs: flying, fighting, and fucking.”
“And whichFis the one you’re not a fan of anymore?” he teases.
“Fucking,” I chirp.
Rook pauses for a minute, like he’s not sure what to say to that. He scratches the back of his neck like he’s uncomfortable.
I laugh. “Fighting, you idiot. I remembered during the prison yard fight that that shit hurts.” I narrow my eyes on him. “But why do males always think they win in the libido department? If you guys only knew how horny most females are on the daily, you’d cover your dicks and run, screaming out, ‘Save yourself!’ to every male you scurried past.”
He snorts. “I would never run, let alone scurry away from a willing female,” he counters with a wicked smile.
This playful banter is making my stomach do flips. I look him up and down assessingly. “I knew you had fucked up standards. You’re just ready and waiting to pounce on any ol’ willing female, huh?” I tease.
He gives methe look. “I assure you, I have high standards, Sinclair.” He says my name with the hint of a purr that makes my clit sit up and take notice like a dog ready for a treat. “You should really talk to someone about that low self-esteem, though. You shouldn’t be classifying yourself as just any ol’ willing female. You should think more highly of yourself.”
I roll my eyes and try to erase the blush from creeping up my neck and into my cheeks. Did he just admit that he’s into me? I have to stop myself from giggling and batting my lashes at him.
Get it together, Sinclair.
Despite my efforts to rein it in, heat and desire fills the space between us until it almost feels like I can wrap my hands around it. I find myself picturing me and him together, of me straddling his lap while I run my tongue over the seam of his mouth. I imagine how he’d feel, all hard and stable beneath me, getting up close and personal with his masculine beauty and those entrancing eyes of his.
But...what the hell am I doing? Regardless if he’s working on a plan to sell me out to Alpha Bowen or not, he’s a prison guard.
When the silence stretches between us, both of us endure this pull and tug between us until Rook finally gets to his feet, severing it. “I better go. If the other guards find out I’m down here, they’ll give me shit.”
“Okay. Tell the Warden I said hi.”
He snorts. “Definitely not gonna do that.”
I snicker. “Scaredy cat.”
“Hell yeah. Everyone is scared of that fucker.”
“I heard that he slinks around in the shadows at night and sucks on people’s souls while they sleep.”
“Guess you’re safe,” Rook teases.
I throw my apple core at him. “Hey! I’ll have you know that my soul is awesome, and he’d probably really love the taste of me.”
Whoops, badly worded. At the mention of mytaste, Rook’s eyes take on such an intense heated look, that I’m forced to glance away.
“Behave, Sinclair,” he says roughly as he opens the iron door with a loud creak. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
I nod and follow him, pressing my face up against the rectangular peephole as he closes the door behind him and locks up. “How long are they making me stay in here?”
“One day for every guard you gave the smack-down to.”
I groan. “Geez, you swipe your tail one time and everyone loses their minds.”
He smirks. “Good luck with your tunnel.”
