Page 60 of Break Out the Girl

Don’t mind if I do.

The vinegar tang is absolutely fucking delicious. So is the oversized cashmere sweater I pull on. I’ve already stripped off the soaked jeggings and replaced them with a pair of yoga pants.

I leave the armfuls of clothing on the coffee table, then walk around, tucking wool blankets around each slowly thawing body.

Basil is curled up on the rug by the doorway, his small fingers still loosely locked around his weapon.

That kid.

In the silence, and with everyone settled, I finally have a moment to consider François again.

Fuck.

He has to be alright. Has to be.

I don’t know what I’ll do if he isn’t.

20: TALIESIN

I step inside through the French doors, and click the lock. It’s fully dark now, but my eyes have no difficulty seeing.

And what I see is a heap of sleeping bodies.

What I smell is a mish-mash of scents: wet clothing, food, stale sweat, central air—and her.

There she is, stumbling into the room from the kitchen. Rory is pale, drowning in a man's sweater and looks completely beat. My feet automatically move towards her like she’s a magnet. “Hey,” I whisper softly, running a hand down her back.

“Hey, all good out there?”

“Yeah, it’s completely quiet. If anyone had seen us arrive, we would have had company by now.” I glance at the grandfather clock in the hallway. It’s after midnight. “And I can’t see the owners turning up at this hour, can you?”

She shrugs. “It’s hard to wrap my head around the idea of being safe, even for a minute.”

“I know, but we have to rest.” I wrap my arms around her. “Your nervous system needs to settle or you’re going to collapse.” A shiver runs through her despite the heating. “Why don’t you have a shower, clean up properly?” I suggest.

Rory leans her head against me. “A shower? Gods, that would be amazing.”

“Come on.” Taking her hand, I pull her into the hallway, then open several doors until I find what is obviously a downstairs guest bedroom with an attached en-suite. Perfect—still within earshot of the living room.

As Aurora pokes around the room, I set the water running until steam clouds start filling the small space. “Here, babe. Come get clean.”

She drifts, almost sleepwalking, into the bathroom. Before I have a chance to turn away, she’s taking off her clothes, blind to anything but the need for hot water.

“I’ll wait outside.” I say, but I don’t look away, I can’t.

Rory looks up and blinks, realizing she’s standing in front of me stripped down to her underwear. “Oh. Er…” Her eyes flick past me to the dark bedroom, then back to the roaring shower. “Will you wait in here with me? I—I don’t want to be alone.”

I tear my eyes away from her perfect delicate curves and clear my throat. “Sure, no problem.” I expect her to move into the shower, but she doesn’t. She just stands there, eyes huge as a tear begins to track down her face. I rake my fingers across my scalp wanting to take her in my arms again, but she’s in a bra and panties. I don’t want to cross a boundary. Freak her out.

“Talk to me, Rory,” I say, trying to ignore all the blood my body is sending to my dick.

“Is he d—dead?” Her voice cracks.

I know immediately who she’s talking about. Shit. “I very much doubt it. And one thing's for sure, knowing François’s obsession, he’ll make his way back to you as soon as he can.”

She inhales then lets out a sob.

Should I be jealous that she’s crying for de Vaux? Wanting him safe?