Page 41 of Cam Girl

“Don’t tempt me. If I thought you could handlean axe by yourself, then I might set you on the task. It might be nice for you to run a vacuum over the place.”

“I’m paying for my stay in chores. I get it.” I drop into the chair at the head of the table and shove some of the revolting eggs into my mouth, chewing through them like a brat. “You don’t have to tell me twice. I’m a functioning adult.”

Soren looks at me, really looks at me. His gaze is loaded and he holds my stare with his head cocked to the side as he studies me. There is nothing innocent about him. Not with his chest rising and falling heavily.

Your move, dickhead.

I feel his attention on my skin, in my stomach. Instinctively I drag in a breath and swallow hard. The hot sauce burns my tongue.

There is something wrong with me and I’ve never been more keenly aware of it than I am right now. His attention has my thighs clenching together.

“Stay out of trouble, Gilli,” he warns in a gravelly undertone. “It would help if you did the dishes, too.”

“I already offered to cook. I don’t need you to make me a list of things to do.”

Aiden brings his empty plate to the sink before stepping up and grabbing the runs of my chair. My breath catches in my throat with the two of them so close around me.

I stop breathing entirely when Soren’s gaze drops to the low neckline of my blouse. Heat curls in my stomach. I’m warm inside but I can’t bring myself to think about the real reason why. I need to put more clothes on. I need?—

“When we get back, I’ll take you into town to grab more eggs and whatever else you might need, if your car isn’t working,” Aiden supplies. “Until then, be good, little chaos demon.”

Both of them take off at the same time, twin movements, and it takes me too long to get the air back into my lungs once they leave.

I have to get a grip on myself.

If I succumb to them, to their masculinity and their powerful presence, then I’ll be too distracted to claw my way out of trouble. Which takes precedence over fantasizing about two wholly inappropriate people.

I shove the plate of inedible eggs away. Too much salt and hot sauce. His blood pressure has to be through the roof.

A low buzz sounds.

Soren left his phone on the counter. I think it’s his—I’m pretty sure I saw him with it yesterday. I clear my throat to call out to him just as an engine guns from the driveway.

A shower of gravel cracks against the side of the house and by the time I’ve raced to the window, I catch the tail end of a utility vehicle I’d never seen before disappearing into the woods.

Whatever business they have today, they’d rather I not know.

It’s impossible not to look at the phone. Why would Soren leave it?

Especially when he doesn’t trust me.

He scrutinizes every move I make. Even when he barely looks at me, he’saware.

Most people I know are attached to their phone like it’s a physical extension of themselves. And Soren claimed not to be forgetful.

Is this a test?

A way to see if I’m a good person or not?

My fingers twitch. Sorry to say, it’s less a moral quandary than one of survival. His won’t be a number they’ll trace back to me if I call the police to ask them a few questions, not to mention I’ll be able to get on the internet and do my searching before the boys get back.

If I want to get out of here soon, the police will be the best place to start.

Temptation is too great to pass up. I grab the cell.

His password isn’t too hard to figure out. His fingerprintshave left a trail across the screen, an easy one to trace, and it’s a matter of seconds before typing in his birthday unlocks the screen.

Dialing 911 would be a mistake. For one thing, this isn’t a matter for local police. At least not yet. For another thing, it’s Soren’s phone, and the call will be recorded. That’s too much exposure and unnecessary risk. I do a quick search online then dial the number for the local police department and wait while the line rings and connects.

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