Page 25 of Savage

Unpeeling the banana, I searched my memory banks. In the evening I was going to the cinema with Dominic, but for most of the day, nothing. Unfortunately. I searched my brain for some fake plans, totally not sure what Marcus was going to suggest.

Dang it. I came up with zilch and muttered, “Nothing until the evening, why?”

That was when my stepfather explained that he had managed to arrange for me to go to the base in Marham to speak to some soldiers about my article. I was to travel to work with Jaxon, he would chaperone me and then bring me back during the afternoon.

Excitement simmered inside me but never came to a boil. Possibly because Jaxon was part of the arrangement. The thought of travelling with him in an awkward silence was not something I welcomed. Especially after last night’s events.

Maybe he’d just ignore me. One could only hope so.

*****

During the rest of the week, I went to work a couple of times and used the resource centre to gather some statistics about past soldiers who had taken their own lives and patterns of recorded mental health issues. I seemed to spend most days with my head buried in a book, so much so that my glasses had started to leave a semi-permanent indentation on the bridge of my nose.

Friday morning came by quickly and I had been told to wear comfortable clothing that I didn’t mind getting dirty. I hadn’t seen Jaxon all week as he had remained at the base for a few nights.

Although he didn’t need it, he kept a room there. Most of the soldiers lived at the base but as Jaxon’s house was so close, he got to come home when he wasn’t on duty.

In respect of my dress code for the day, I played it safe and decided to wear black leggings, a red T-shirt, a navy jumper, and trainers. I had tied my hair in a ponytail so it was out of the way and felt comfortable even if the bottoms fitted too snuggly. I also pulled on a black leather jacket which made me feel tough. I looked ready for action. At least, I did in my eyes.

As I forced myself downstairs to meet Jaxon that Friday morning, my mouth dropped open.

He was leaning back against his Range Rover Sport with his arms folded over his wide chest and my God, he looked hot. His uniform fit his body in all the right areas and strained against the wrong ones. The ones that were wrong for me to think about anyway; like the area across his chest and those mouth-watering shoulders of his. He was strength-encapsulated and so very drool-worthy.

My legs started to shake as I crossed the yard. How the heck did Jaxon acquire such an insane ability to make me weak at the knees without even speaking? His voice was something else and created its own havoc. It made me think of sex, all the time. I had some type of Jaxon disorder and my body continued to react to him without permission or apology.

My stepbrother oozed confidence and masculinity. The level of testosterone he omitted should be made illegal and my stomach continued to tighten at the impact of him. He was the devil and a God rolled into one.

I forced myself to take a deep breath and moved forward so I didn’t continue to look like a besotted moron. Jaxon quirked his head and shoved off the car, taking a step toward me, and staring down at me with a semi-fond expression. It was odd as he never looked at me like that.

“Good morning waif,” he drawled, instantly getting my back up. Waif indeed. Jaxon’s eyes roamed over my body, but it wasn’t a look of approval.

I gave him a spin, saying, “Morning sweet brother. See, I can look like a badass.”

He snorted. “And a badass would never say that.”

I rolled my eyes as Jaxon paused and continued to scrutinise my outfit. “Are you going jogging?”

My lips curled into a fake smile. “Nope, this is my attempt to blend in with the natives,” I explained, adopting just the right amount of sarky.

Jaxon shrugged. “Well, at least it’s stretchy. You look about as sexy as a limp lettuce,” he returned dryly.

“The brief I was given didn’t say I needed to look sexy,” I pointed out.

“It’s probably for the best, otherwise I may need to get territorial,” Jaxon said under his breath, a nerve, jerking in his cheek.

My mouth dropped open, but before I could ask what he meant he moved on.

“Get in the car.” He was such a bossy fucker. I did as he commanded of course whilst casting an eye at the awkward way he lifted himself into the vehicle. My stepbrother almost had to fold his body in half to fit in front of the wheel.

As he shuffled to make himself more comfortable, he bumped his head on the sun visor and grunted. I hid my smile as he shot me an accusing glance, his early fond-type look, had evaporated with lightning speed.

Settling into the plush luxury of his car, I psyched myself up. I could feel a bad case of the mood swings coming off my stepbrother in waves. As I pulled on my seatbelt, Jaxon turned toward me without starting the car. “Right, a few ground rules,” he began in a brisk voice. Great, here we go. Jaxon and his fucking ground rules. He was looking at me like I was the biggest inconvenience of the century.

My spine stiffened in my seat and I released a noise that resembled a pig snort, airing the words I had been thinking. “Oh my God. You and your ground rules. Is that an army thing?”

His eyes narrowed. “Nope, that’s a Jaxon thing,” he sniped with pride.

Releasing an exaggerated sigh of exasperation, I gave in. “Fine. Crack on then.” I said casually and stared out of the front windscreen, wishing he’d start the engine so we could get there quicker and I wouldn’t have to keep feeling so out of my depth in his company. He was so large, that he dwarfed the entire car, making me feel claustrophobic. I felt like rolling the window down and sticking my head out.

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