Page 45 of Savage

He then turned away, moving towards the doorway, his huge shoulders flexing. Although only a glimpse, I saw his hard-on had tented his joggers; an arousal I had created. I watched open-mouthed at that thought as he stopped and twisted his head to the side, saying, “Oh, and Wynter?”

There was a three-beat silence.

“Yes,” I croaked, hoping he’d say something sexual.

“Don’t get blood on my sandwich.”

And then he was gone and I felt a rush of regret as a pang of rejection hit me in the chest like a bullet.

I had wanted to bottle that moment he had taken my finger into his mouth so that I could relive it again and again but uncertainty shooed away that thought.

Telling myself to get a grip, I huffed around the kitchen, found the first aid kit, and wrapped my finger in a plaster.

With determination, I then finished his bloody sandwich. Ham, cheese, and mustard. And believe me, when I say, I didn’t go easy on the mustard.

Seven

After I had moodily delivered Jaxon’s sandwich to the study, I ate my own in the kitchen and then decided to watch a movie. I needed a distraction from Jaxon and what had happened between us. For my sanity, I decided to mark this as a moment of madness. One that should not be repeated. Whatever the hell I was feeling for him had to be squashed. I would not throw myself at him like a schoolgirl in the throes of her first crush. I had more self-respect than that.

I found my stash of Blu-rays in the rear living room where the TV was and so decided to put on Disney’s Bambi. The picture looked amazing on the massive wall-mounted flatscreen.

Throwing myself onto one of the sofas I found the remote control and got down to business. As usual, the film had me in tears after around forty minutes, just as Bambi’s mother gets shot. Good job I had tissues at the ready.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood to attention as I realised, I wasn’t alone. “Thanks for the sandwich,” Jaxon’s low, gravelly voice suddenly bled into the room. “I must admit, the jar of mustard you added gave it some kick. I now have no feeling in my tastebuds.”

I didn’t apologise, I just sniffed and quickly paused the TV as he came around the side of the sofa I was sitting on. He was now wearing a hoodie and some faded jeans and still looked smoking hot. I purposefully kept my teary gaze above the waist, burying the fact that I had touched this boy's penis somewhere in the back of my mind. Jaxon’s lips were pressed together in annoyance.

As his eyes roamed over me, his brow scrunched as it registered that I was upset. He then exhaled sharply and motioned toward my wilted frame with one hand. “What the hell is the matter now?” he barked down at me.

I ignored him and turned back to the TV screen, blowing my nose loudly. It wasn’t at all ladylike but I didn’t care. Despair crashed through my chest. I’d seen the movie I was watching several times over during the last few years, but that scene always got to me.

Lazily throwing himself onto the sofa opposite, my stepbrother looked back and forth between me and the paused screen. His brow furrowed; his expression pissed off as usual. He rested his hands on his knees and leaned toward me. I tried to avoid eye contact but he drew me back.

“Well?” he questioned, clearly exasperated.

“Bambi’s mother just died,” I informed him, my eyes full of mist as I peered across at him, my face oozing with misery. It was so very sad.

He gave me a mirthless smile. “You’re bawling your eyes out over a fucking cartoon, are you kidding me?” Jaxon huffed, slouching back against the cushions. He watched me over the rim of the beer bottle he held. Totally unconvinced.

“I don’t expect you to understand Jaxon, you have the emotional range of a celery.”

“That’s a bit harsh,” he barked, hiding his grin.

Wiping my nose again, I stuffed the tissue up the sleeve of my hoodie and swung my legs to the floor.

“Well, it’s true. It’s sad Jaxon. Have you even seen it?” I scathed, fiddling with the remote control which sat beside me. I didn’t restart the movie; I couldn’t allow it to play out through such tragedy with the current level of disdain coming off my stepbrother. I didn’t want him to taint it in some way.

My stare was accusatory and he met it dead on. “Yes, I have actually—a few times,” he admitted in a ‘know it all’ voice. I wanted to punch him in the place I had recently held so dearly.

“So, you are dead inside then,” I pointed out with a flick of my head. He released an unimpressed sound, before raising his drink to his lips and taking a swig.

He flicked a glance at the watch on his strong wrist. “I’m not dead inside, it just isn’t that sad a movie.”

I snorted. “It’s extremely sad. Have you seen it all the way through?”

There was a lengthy pause and something in his expression switched.

“Yes. I watched it with my mother before she died,” he stated, his gaze taking on a glazed appearance. I realised that was the first time he’d ever mentioned his mother to me and I felt a twinge of guilt mixed with sympathy.

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