Page 100 of Even Robots Die
I feel one of his arms moving and all my mind can conjure is the fact he’s going to let me fall to my death.
Another scream slips past my lips, and my legs wrap around Brice of their own accord.
I imagined it to look sexy, but right this instant I look more like a frightened koala that doesn’t want to release its hold than anything else. I’m pretty sure Brice will have the indent of all my nails on the skin of his shoulders by the time we arrive.
I hear him chuckle against the top of my head.
“I’m glad I can elicit other reactions in your body than anger,” he says with a gravelly voice.
“You’re an ass,” I say.
He chuckles some more and even if I know what just happened was to get a reaction out of me, and that it won’t happen again, I don’t release my hold on him.
The arm that I felt loosen a few seconds ago moves under my thigh and then I feel the heat of his hand sear the underside of it, completely eradicating the chill of the wind from my body.
Brice doesn’t say anything and waits a few minutes—or maybe just a few seconds, but my mind is so clouded by the feel of his hand through the thin layer of my pants that I’m not sure I have any notion of time left in my brain—and then he releases the arm still at my waist and brings his hand to the same position as the other.
I can feel his fingers digging into my skin before his hold makes me jump in the air and I find myself looking into his eyes.
But that’s not the only thing this little jump aligned.
I can feel him.
I can feel his cock against my pussy even through the thin layer of my pants and the thick one of his cargo pants.
It’s like my brain just short-circuited, and I have to forcefully convince myself that this is not one of my wet dreams. I can’t start rubbing myself on him, even if that’s all I can think about right now.
This is reality and unlike what usually happens in my dreams, Brice has never hinted even once that he finds me attractive.
“You’re awfully silent when you’re not furious,” Brice tells me and even with the wind, I can feel it like a caress on my skin.
“Where are we going?” I ask him instead of addressing his comment.
“Wherever you want.”
I’m taken aback by his answer and I don't know how to reply. He seems to understand, so he keeps talking.
“We can either go back to Notre Dame so you can see that your family is settled in their own rooms, or …”
I half expect for the second option to be ‘to go back to Blois so I can fix him’ but with his next words, I realize this man pays much more attention to me than anyone else.
“Or we can go wherever it is you build all those weapons for the revolution. I have a feeling that’s where you think the best. But I would understand if you want to relay any piece of information you find to your sisters.”
It’s not like there is a lot to communicate for now, so I give Brice the address of the basement I’m secretly renting.
My family doesn’t even know about it. Not that I really had to hide it. They’ve never thought to ask, and I never provided any information about it.
Brice will be the first to set foot inside besides me.
I don’t really know how I feel about it.
It’s not like he’s important in my life. I had seen him a handful of times before he tricked me into working for him—yes, that’s what I’m calling it now.
So, why do I let him in on things I’ve never shared with anyone before?
You know why. He sees you, and that’s so foreign and unusual that you want to cling to the feeling.
The way I want to keep clinging to his frame, too.
