Page 39 of Snowed In

Vying for time, I closed my eyes and angled my head under the water to run my fingers through my hair, scrubbing away the remaining dirt and blood. When I re-opened my eyes, he was still there, and still unimpressed.

Why is that so fucking hot?

Eh, screw it.

“Had my cousin zip-tie an AirTag to your truck. He has a spreadsheet of all of your regular stops. When I crawled out of the lake, I knew this place was my safest bet.”

My cousin Kyler—who was practically my twin and my bestfriend—had been the only family to visit me in jail. Because of that he was the only one I hadn’t flipped on.

“And what were you planning on doing with that spreadsheet?”

A slow smirk hitched up one side of my mouth. Truth was, I’d spent a year imagining all the ways in which I’d kill Rafferty.I still might.

“I see.” He spread his hands wide. “Go ahead, then. Give it your best shot.”

My cock twitched at his bravado.Down, boy.

“I’m injured and unarmed, Detective.”

His eyes tracked down my decorated body and he sent me a lazy grin. “Yes, because that’s why you’d lose.”

“Fuck you,” I said, but there was no heat to it.

That reminded me: In addition to providing updates as to Rafferty’s whereabouts, Kyler had also discovered that Rafferty had filed for a divorce from hishusband.

“Tell me this, Jesse. How’re your ribs feeling?”

I barked out a laugh and rubbed an inked hand over my belly, a purposeful move that his eyes watched with keen interest. I was taunting him because his question annoyed the fuck out of me.

He’d broken three of my ribs that fateful day in court, one of which punctured my lung and left me to the tender mercies of the prison healthcare system.

“I fucking hate you,” I muttered, letting my hand drift to my cock, curious if his eyes would follow the movement.

They did, and he wasn’t subtle about it.

“No, you don’t,” he said, with his smug eyebrows.

“Yes, I do. You’re the reason I got busted.”

I stretched the foreskin over my cock, pleased when his mouth twitched.

“No, I’m not,” he said, watching my dick harden. “You begged your father to not use Jimmy Shoes in the first place. You’re mad at him, not me.”

I stared at him, my mouth open in protest. I mean...yes. I wasmad at my father. Furious, in fact. Not only had he ignored my very good advice, but he also hadn’t even taken my call when I was arrested.

Rafferty gestured at me. “You seem to be recovering quickly from your ordeal.”

“Nothing that a brisk rub down and a hot shower couldn’t fix, apparently.” When he didn’t respond, I gave myself another stroke. “You got anything to wash up with in this place?”

Wordlessly he opened the linen closet, fished out a brand-new box of Irish Spring, and tore open the thin cardboard—all without removing his gaze from my body.

“This choice of soap feels a little on the nose,” I said, extending my free hand beyond the shower curtain.

His mouth twitched as he slid the bar out of the box and set it on my palm, then he lifted his chin in the direction of my cock and hand. “Planning my demise seems to be a major turn on for you.”

I held the soap to my nose, inhaling as I let my eyes drift over his thick brown hair and broad shoulders. “Not gonna lie, it kind of is.”

“Then you and my ex-husband have a lot in common.”

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