and the handcuffs made that hand all but useless, matching her equally useless left hand. Either way, with her wrists at the odd angles necessary to reach up to nearly her armpit, she’d have virtually zero strength in either of her hands.
She tried unfastening her bra, but because of all her layers that didn’t make it any easier—plus now her boobs were flapping around, too, so she quickly refastened it.
“Welp,” she told Thomas. “I’m afraid I am gonna need your help with this.”
He sighed. It was just a little sigh—just a small breath in and an exhale clearly designed to brace himself.
“At least it’s not your worst nightmare,” she tried to cheer him up. “You’re not removing a piercing from my—”
“Hoo-yah,” he said.
“I’ve never heard it called that. But go, Navy SEALs.”
He laughed. “I wasn’t... I was trying to... I meant, you know, hooray. As in yay.”
“Yay,” she echoed flatly. “Right. Okay, so here’s the deal. Up here.” She raised her jacket, sweater and shirt as high as she could—which wasn’t very high—as she felt him shift closer. “Under my right arm.”
His hand was warm as he slipped it up under her clothes, as they both pretended that this wasn’t full-on hideously awkward. His fingers landed much too far back, but at least on the stretchy fabric of her bra instead of her skin.
She continued her instruction. “Now slide toward the front. You’ll be able to feel the wire, it curves up and around to that side of my... lady part. For the sake of propriety, let’s call it Rufus.”
He made a sound that was a vague mix of pain and laughter. “Breast is fine,” he informed her briskly. “I’m a hospital corpsman. I’m familiar with anatomy.”
“Rufus is safer. I don’t want you to faint. Good thing it’s my right boob, though, because the left is named the Duchess of Alfrakazondia, and all the HRH-ing would get tedious.”
He laughed again as she felt him find the end of the wire, his fingers slipping slightly onto her bare skin. She tried not to shiver at his touch.
“Here, I have to...” he said, shifting her so that they were sitting even closer together—she was securely between his legs now—as he brought his other hand up to her bra, too. “I can’t find the hole.”
Tasha giggled. She couldn’t help it, and he made an exasperated and disgusted-with-her sound in the back of his throat.
“Sorry,” she said. “Sorry, sorry, sorry. But no, there’s no, um, hole. Yet. But see, it felt to me like the fabric’s thinner over there, so you should be able to, I don’t know, tear it or wear it down with your fingernails...?”
He made an unconvinced sound as he started plucking away at the fabric, adding, “This would be easier if I could see it.”
“The lighter’s in my pocket on that side.”
“Thanks, but we’re sitting in the dark, with no fire, for a reason,” Thomas told her. But then he said, “So when did you start smoking, anyway?”
“Never,” Tasha said. “It’s Ted’s. I carry it so he doesn’t have to.”
“Ted smokes.” He said it flatly, not quite a question but not quite not.
So she answered him. “Weed, on occasion. It really helps his anxiety.”
He laughed at that. “I’m sure it helps his anxiety to have you carrying his lighter and, oh, his marijuana around for him. Do I have that right, or...?”
“Relax, Officer Krupke. It’s not what you think. He’s got a medical card, and when we travel, he only smokes in states where it’s legal.”
“So why does he have to hide it, then?”
“He’s a prince. Princes aren’t allowed to have anxiety—among a long list of other things,” Tasha countered. “But I’m not royalty, so no one really cares about what I do.”
Thomas laughed grimly at that. “Have you googled yourself lately? Maybe not your name but Prince Tedric’s redheaded golddigger?”
She laughed—not grimly. Googling was actually a highly entertaining game she played with Ted and Jeff and Kayla whenever they had dinner together. Who’s Posting Nasty-Ass Made-Up Bullshit About Tasha Today? “Haters gotta hate.”
“It honestly doesn’t bother you.”
“Nope,” she said.
“I cannot get this,” he admitted. “I don’t have all that much when it comes to fingernails.”
“You really can’t tear it?” she asked, turning to try to find his face in the darkness—and realizing that he was right there, his nose and mouth mere inches from her. She quickly turned away again.
“I’m afraid I’ll tear it too much,” he admitted. “I don’t want to ruin it.”