Page 55 of The Fire Went Wild

He has that air about him. Especially in his eyes. They really do remind me of the deepest parts of the ocean. But I suppose it makes sense, given—what he is.

“Yeah, you can use the bathroom.” He steps back, barely making enough room for me to squeeze past him. “Then I need to talk to you.”

That brings me up short. “About what?”

“You’ll see.”

I roll my eyes and move past him, my body brushing up against his as I do. His heat radiates around me. This house traps the night’s chill, and I try not to think about how nice it would be to snuggle up to him and use his body heat for warmth.

“I’ll be outside the door,” he says, following me down the hall.

I glance over my shoulder at him. “Still don’t trust me not to run?”

“Of course not.”

Which is fair. Because I probably would. And I will, the second I have the opportunity.

Most likely, anyway.

I use the bathroom quickly, shivering in my nightgown. When I come out, Jaxon’s leaning up against the wall, his strong arms crossed over his chest, watching me.

“Can I change?” I ask him.

“Why?”

I gesture down at my thin nightgown. “Because it’s freezing in here.”

“Oh.Oh.” He blinks like it hadn’t even occurred to him. “Yeah, come on. I’ll let you get something out of your suitcase.”

Earlier, he hadn’t let me in his room, just brought me the nightgown and clean underwear while I was in the shower. But right now, he leads me in there, hesitating a little at the doorway. I don’t tell him I’ve already seen it. He has to know I dug through his shit, right, when I was trying to escape?

Still, being in Jaxon’s bedroomwithJaxon feels different than being in here alone, especially after—everything that’s happened. I certainly look at his bed, with its rumpled sheets, a little differently.

Don’t. Focus. He is a murderer.

A murderer who did, in fact, make me come so hard that I stopped caring.

A murderer who also isn’t human, really.

He drags the suitcase over and watches me while I pull out a change of clothes. When I straighten up and look over at him, he keeps staring at me.

“Some privacy?” I ask.

Jaxon’s brow furrows. “Oh. Right.”

Is that a strain of disappointment I detect in his voice? Perv.

I ignore the heat it sends to my clit.

Or maybe I don’t. Maybe that’s why, when he turns around, I don’t make much of an effort to try to get out of his line of sight, just peel my nightgown up over my head, my eyes fixed on his glossy black hair. As I dress, the fabric rustling, he tilts his head a little toward me.

“Are you trying to sneak a peek?”

He jerks his gaze away. “No.”

“Yes, you were.” I grin and zip up my pants. I’m still topless. Tits out.

“I was not.” He shifts uncomfortably. He’s so strange, and not just for the obvious reasons, either. It’s like he’s shy about the thought of me changing even though earlier he completely wrecked me.

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