Page 43 of Savage

“You sound disappointed,” he replied flatly.

“How were drinks with sweet Molly?” I asked with a slightly sarcastic lilt.

I reminded myself not to dwell on the screwed-upness at the hospital and Jaxon unwittingly helped me with this by reverting to type.

“Not really any of your business is it,” he informed me with a stern look. And now we’re were back. To be honest, it was probably for the best. I didn’t appreciate the pervy images I’d had of Jaxon as I’d showered.

“Fine. Be like that.” I went to walk past him toward the kitchen.

“Where are you going?” he asked as he hung up his coat, watching me over his shoulder.

I turned to face him but carried on walking backwards. “Not really any of your business is it.” I threw his own words back at him and he scowled.

He gave me a look that suggested he wanted to wrap his hands around my throat and choke me. “Very original,” Jaxon deadpanned. Talk about blowing hot and cold. I wondered if he was pissed because I’d come back with Amy and Mason.

“I try my best. I’m making a sandwich. I missed lunch.”

His glare was blistering. “So did I. Make me one,” Jaxon instructed. He didn’t even ask nicely but I felt too weary of the exchange even though it was brief.

“Fine,” I agreed.

“I’ll just take a shower and then I’ll be down. No tuna or fish or any of that fucked up shit you eat.”

My brow scrunched. “Fucked up shit?”

He dashed a hand across his face as he turned away from the coat hooks. “Yeah, smashed avocado and houmous, that type of crap. Just something normal, ham and cheese maybe. Easy on the mustard.” He then stomped off, his boots abusing the marble.

God, he was a piece of work. What on earth was Jenna thinking with her comments at the hospital? You’d have to be a masochist to want to be with someone like Jaxon.

I stood there, looking up the stairs like a frozen moron until I heard his door slam. It was only then that I was able to relax.

It took me twenty minutes to find where they’d put the bread as there was none in the breadbin.

Just as I was finishing off Jaxon’s ham and cheese sandwich, he strode into the room. Shirtless. Yes, that’s what I said, no top on! Fuck me! The jogging bottoms he wore on his bottom half added to the rough look; his body was mouth-watering. My mouth dropped open; he was swoon-worthy as he moved into the kitchen with his man nipples winking at me.

Jaxon rolled his eyes to the ceiling before shooting me a look that said he’d read my thoughts.

I huffed, looking back at his sandwich. “Well, what do you expect if you come in here half-naked? I’m not dead,” I snapped, trying to concentrate on slicing the cheese. “If you put on a strip show, you can’t expect a girl not to look.” I hated the self-destructive thoughts running through my mind at that moment but what could you do? Jaxon had the ripped body of a fighter; you couldn’t help but stare. He consumed the space around him and most of mine; suffocating me with his sinfully good-looking boy presence. I felt very aware that we were in the house alone together. God knew where the others were. I imagine Molly had gone back to her dads.

Jaxon exhaled a short breath down his nose; his white teeth flashing. “You should know better than to throw those types of signals around with me Wynter,” Jaxon growled with an arrogant expression. He then strolled over to the fridge, withdrew the milk carton, and then drank from it; the smooth column of his throat pumped as he swallowed. He then put the empty carton back in the fridge. Totally gross. He was such a pig when he wanted to be. Why were my hormones still raging in his direction?

Jaxon then turned and leaned back against the fridge door, his arm muscles bulging. The guy should come with a warning. I continued to shoot him needy little looks before he shook his head in a God give me strength way.

I quickly turned away, pushing the knife into the cheese with more force than necessary and sliced. Ouch—fuck!

The blade nicked my finger. I lifted it and slid it into my mouth to stem the blood, the whole tip stinging like a motherfucker. Drat, I couldn’t even make a sandwich without some drama. Every Nigella type in the country was probably rolling their eyes at me right then.

“What the fuck have you done now?” Jaxon boomed, shoving aggressively off the fridge and storming toward me. Great. I was in for another tongue-lashing. My eyes were watering as his long fingers encircled my wrist and pulled my hand away from my mouth.

It was bleeding, although not much. Jaxon’s hand was tight on my flesh as he dragged me over to the sink, turned on the cold water and yanked my hand beneath the flow. The cool liquid immediately took out the sting.

“What are you doing?” His actions were such a shock that I struggled to understand them. He now appeared to be helping me.

“I’m making it so you don’t cry again,” he replied. His eyes glittered in the dim light.

“Oh, OK. Thank you, I guess.”

“You’ll live. You’re so fucking accident-prone,” he huffed in disgust.

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