Total pages in book: 66
Estimated words: 60768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60768 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 304(@200wpm)___ 243(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Shut up and go make yourself useful,” she says, turning toward the kitchen. “There’s food in the fridge if you’re hungry. And stay away from the windows. I don’t need Tammy knocking again because she saw you staring at me like a creep.”
I watch her walk away, hips swaying just enough to keep my imagination running wild. The relief from the text I sent is still there, warm and fragile in my chest. Ozzy’s on it. The team might be coming. But right now, standing in this safehouse with a woman who’s supposed to be my warden and somehow feels like so much more, I feel the first real crack in the cage.
I don’t know if it’s hope or just really good yoga-induced lust.
Either way, I’m not sure I want it to stop.
I head into the kitchen after her, already wondering how many more neighborly invitations I can manufacture without blowing everything. Because next time, I might need more than sixty seconds with a phone.
And because part of me, the reckless, stupid part, really wants to see Orchid do yoga again.
Preferably without the leggings.
But that’s a problem for another day.
Right now I’ll take the small win, the stolen text, the quiet relief, and the way Orchid’s eyes lingered on me just a beat too long when she caught me watching.
It’s not freedom.
Not yet.
But it feels like the beginning of something.
And for the first time since Enley’s voice cracked over that burner phone, I let myself believe I might actually get us both out of this alive.
Even if I have to flirt, steal, and fantasize my way through every single day with the dangerously flexible woman currently glaring at me over a bottle of water.
Yeah.
I can work with that.
EIGHT
ORCHID
The party buzz still clings to my skin like cheap sunscreen and grilled meat as I climb the stairs. I need a shower. Badly. Something hot and long to wash away the fake smiles, the forced laughter, and the memory of Poe’s arm wrapped around my waist like it belonged there.
I slip into my room, lock the door out of habit, and peel off my clothes. I toss everything into the hamper and step into the bathroom, twisting the shower knob until steam billows around me.
The hot spray hits my shoulders and I let out a slow breath, tilting my face up into the water. For a minute I just stand there, letting it pound against my neck, trying to rinse the day off. But my mind refuses to cooperate. It keeps drifting back to Poe.
The way he looked at me when he caught me doing yoga. That dark, hungry stare from the bottom of the stairs. The low rumble of his voice when he called me beautiful. The easy way his hand settled on my hip at the party, thumb brushing just under the edge of my cover-up like he had every right.
It’s been forever. Years since I let a man get close enough to touch me like that. Years since I even wanted it. Work, survival, keeping my head above water in Serafina’s world… it all pushed everything else away. Desire became a distraction I could not afford.
Until now.
I close my eyes and the images come anyway. Poe’s dark hair, messy from the pool, water dripping down the side of his neck. The way his t-shirt clung to his chest when he came out of the shallow end. Those tattoos. The black ink curling over tan skin stretched tight over muscle. The confident roll of his shoulders, the sharp cut of his jaw when he laughed at something Mark said. The way his board shorts hung low on his hips, revealing that tempting V-line every time he moved.
Heat pools low in my belly, sharp and unexpected. I press my forehead against the cool tile, but it doesn’t help. My body remembers what it feels like to be wanted. To be touched. To have strong hands sliding over wet skin, pulling me close, pressing me against a wall while the water runs hot around us.
I shouldn’t be thinking about him like this. He’s the enemy. My prisoner. The man whose sister’s life is the leash around both our necks. Yet here I am, pulse quickening, thighs pressing together as the fantasy sharpens. Poe behind me in this shower, hands on my hips, mouth at my neck, whispering filthy things while he pushes inside me slow and deep. The sound he might make when I arch back against him. The way those tattooed arms would cage me in, holding me exactly where he wants me.
A soft sound escapes my throat before I can stop it. I bite my lip hard and reach for the soap, scrubbing my skin like I can wash the thoughts away. It doesn’t work. The ache lingers, warm and insistent, making my breasts feel heavy and my breath come a little shorter.