Rogue by Blair Babylon

Author:Blair Babylon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Malachite Publishing

Chapter Twelve

Edging

Maxence

She wasn’t wearing panties.

Maxence was sitting beside his little blonde, Dree, in their box high above the crowd at the ballet.

Three empty seats stood behind them, and one to his left. He’d bought all six seats in the box, of course, because security was still a problem. He couldn’t decide who the more significant threat was, the enraged Mafia boss or his own brother.

Not that there weren’t other possible dangers.

Under his borrowed tuxedo, Maxence’s skin felt wind-burned. He rubbed his palms together as he watched the ballet. He whispered to Dree, “Are you enjoying it?”

“I know I’m an American, so maybe I’m just a little prudish. The French are far more sophisticated than we are,” Dree said. “But doesn’t this ballet seem a little—erotic—to be out in public like this?”

“It’s about love.”

“Yeah, okay. But, I mean, they’re sliding all over each other. It’s beautiful, and wow, they’re amazing. But I’m pretty sure that guy likes his partner a lot.”

Max leaned toward her, practically resting his chin on her shoulder. Her fluff of hair smelled like herbs and flowers. “The four gardeners, they’re essentially playing the role of Cupid. They grow love, not flowers. They allow each of the couples to bloom together.”

In truth, watching the ballet dancers, most of whom wore thin leotards or tights, leaping into each other’s arms and tilting their heads together made Maxence ready to take his little blonde home and throw her on the bed again.

But he knew she wasn’t wearing panties.

And no one else was in the box with them.

Upholstered walls divided them from the other audience members in the other boxes and afforded them some privacy. A safety wall in front of them blocked the audiences’ view below their waists.

There was a reason why he had reserved one of the boxes on the top row.

He gathered her skirt in his fingers, inching it up. Its hemline crawled up her calves. “Don’t look down. Watch the ballet.”

She did, and her breathing rose higher in her chest.

He told her, “The ballet is called ‘Le Parc,’ and a young French choreographer did the choreography for it. The three acts take place at three different times of the day, and the three duets are three different scenes. The first one was playful love outdoors in the park in the morning. These are the honorable men who are chasing the women among the trees at dusk. The last act is the lunatic women who must accept the men’s embraces at night. The ballet is very French, and it’s about the myths of French culture. It’s as much about Choderlos de Laclos’ Les Liaisons dangereuses as it is about Buñuel’s masochistic films Cet obscur objet du désir and Belle de jour. It’s not about growing up but about emotions awakening.”

His fingers reached the end of her hemline, and his fingertips brushed her bare thigh. The fragile silk of her dress caught on the heavy calluses on his fingertips.

A shiver ran through her body that he could feel where his cheek was touching the side of her face.

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