Page 61 of Even Robots Die
“I understand sarcasm,” he tells me, and it feels like a caress on my skin. It also makes me very conscious that my legs are naked under his gaze. I’m not ashamed of them. I mean, I know I’m not top model size, but I like my curves. If I’m plump, it just means there’s more to love. And that I make a better pillow, too.
He’s still too close to me, because this isn’t the breeze I can feel on my skin anymore. It’s the warmth of his breath that acts like it’s stroking my skin like a lover.
Fuck. I truly need to get laid if I’m turned on by the feel of air—even if it’s warm air coming out of a very hot man—on my legs.
“What the hell is wrong with me?” I tell myself, and this time I make sure not to make a sound. But then I remember that Milton is still logged on my holo. “Don’t answer me, Milton,” I add as I start massaging the bridge of my nose.
I don’t have my toys here and it’s starting to get harder and harder to deal with my libido. I mean, even while sharing my room at home, I manage to sneak my toys into the shower.
Here, I don’t have my toys, and I need more than my fingers. Call me greedy, but I don’t vibrate for freaking sake.
And the dream a few days ago only made things worse.
Well, not worse than Brice’s voice almost asking me to call him ‘boss’ and the air he breathes caressing my legs.
“I just choose to do whatever has a chance to get you mad,” he adds, and I feel the words spread over my skin and straight to my pussy.
Get a grip, Flo.
“What?” I ask, looking over my shoulder in Brice’s direction, half convinced I didn’t hear him right.
“You get such a lovely shade of red,” he adds, and now I’m sure I heard him right.
“What the hell?” I ask, but the only answer I receive is a chuckle.
I turn my body completely to look at him, and I can feel my fist squeezing at my sides.
You know that grip I was talking about? I think it’s going to be me gripping my hands around his throat.
The worst part is that he looks completely unbothered, his left arms laying on the back of the bench and the right one in his hair.
“See, that shade of red,” he tells me with that taunting smile I’m coming to know as his signature.
Completely unbothered, like I said. But why would he be, anyway? He can’t feel a damn thing, so of course taunting me is without a consequence in his mind.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” I tell him as I breathe through my nose to calm down because I don’t want to give him more ammo. It was supposed to be a question, but halfway through my sentence, I realize I don't need confirmation. I know that is what he is doing and from the light in his eyes, he wants me to know exactly that.
This man is going to be the death of me.
I really need to figure out how to un-fry his brain so I can be gone quickly.
“If you’ve stretched your legs long enough, we can go back to the castle …” Brice says with an extra emphasis on ‘stretched your legs’.
Can I throttle him now?
I face away. I don’t need him to be happy about my coloring again tonight.
I take a deep breath. And then another one.
Once I’m calm again, I feel like I should tell him we can go back inside.
But I’m enjoying the light wind on my skin and the fact that he’s probably still waiting for my answer—and the latter fills me with joy.
I have absolutely no other reason to stay outside longer than to annoy him a bit. I don’t think I can manage to piss him off the way I am now—he can’t feel a damn thing, for fuck’s sake—so I’ll settle with a bit of annoyance.
Weirdly, Brice doesn’t press me to go back inside.
He’s silent at my back. Not that I can forget that he’s here—I can feel the heat coming from him. If I didn’t know better, I would think he was the dragon, not his best friend—if we can still call him that when the mere sight of Elhyor makes Brice want to kill him …
