I know it is averybad idea for me to bait the French douche, seeing as he can apparently paralyze me with a glare, but this is the lightest moment I’ve had in forever, and I just don’t want it to end.
He ignores me.
“If you don’t wish further ablutions, Aurora, then it is time to break our fast,” François snaps. “Come.”
Aurora rolls her eyes but doesn’t protest. “I’ll bring you something back,” she tells me, slipping on the prison sneakers. She pauses, almost like we are a real couple and we are going to kiss before she goes off about her business.
But then the moment dissolves as she and François head out to the chow hall and there’s not a damn thing I can do about it.
???
Who knows how long it is until Frank and Rory return. I hang the privacy sheet back up then maybe I doze in their absence. All I know as soon as she’s back in my vicinity my radar is focused in one direction only. Aurora-ward.
She slips into the cage with a PBJ in one hand and a mug in the other. “Zavtrak podan!”
“Huh?”
“Breakfast is served, as they say. We saw Gleb and Heinz in chow, they didn’t realize I knew both Russian and German. I totally outed their discussion about Gleb’s urination problems.”
“Fuck, Princess. Bad idea. I mean, hilarious, but those motherfuckers are mean.”
She shrugs. “Frank won’t let them hurt me, right, François?”
The Frenchman glowers from his chair.
I almost feel giddy.
“And,” Rory whispers, “I have some more plans to wind Frank up, so hurry and eat your food.”
“Yes ma’am,” I mumble. Fuck, it’s impossible to not love this mad pixie delight. While I finish the coffee, she kicks off her sneakers and starts her regular routine of bending and stretching.
I watch, mesmerized. I’m aware of de Vaux doing the same from his side, though he can’t see as much as me because of the privacy sheet.
Ha.
As one leg extends behind her, she arches her back, fingertips grazing the rusted iron. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything so graceful, beautiful. She moves like a willow tree in the wind.
After a few more minutes, she looks at me and grins, her skin already lightly flushed from the exercise. “Any chance you could help me, Tally?” she asks in a sweet tone.
Huh?
She winks, then darts her eyes into the next cell. I’m not sure what she’s up to, but I’m game. I get to my feet, still feeling annoyingly shaky and Rory beckons me closer. “I need help with a stretch. My hamstrings are stiff as fuck.” Then she turns around, bracing her hands against the bars. “Can you put your hand on the small of my back, Tally? Just keep me steady.”
With pleasure.
The second I touch her, a jolt of heat goes straight to my gut. My scarred hand looks massive against her slight body. “Like this?”
“Higher,” she requests, her head falling back. “And put your other hand on my thigh. Lift it… slowly.”
I swallow hard.
I can feel François shifting in his chair, the heavy silence from his side of the room crackling with a sudden, sharp jealousy. He’s watching the silhouette of us against the sheet, and Rory knows it. She’s playing him like a godsdamn violin, and I’m more than happy to be the motherfucking bow.
My palm slides over the rough gray fabric of her jumpsuit, finding the curve of her thigh. She’s all lean muscle and smooth skin. As I lift her leg, she leans her weight back into my chest. The scent and closeness of her are sending my senses crazy.
“That’s it,” she moans, her voice loud enough to carry. “You’re so strong, Tally. I don’t know what I’d do without you here to help me.”
The beast inside me is losing its godsdamn mind. He’s pacing at the front of my skull, wanting to growl, wanting to claim the throat she’s just exposed to me. I can feel her own heart hammering against my arm—fast, erratic, but pulsing with life.
