Page 91 of Caveman (Wild Men 1)

I let out a soft snort. “Deadbolts? Yes, yes. I locked it all.”

“Good.” A sense of relief comes through the line. “Be careful, Tay.”

Don’t, I tell myself.

Don’t let yourself believe he really cares.

“You think this person’s unstable?” I whisper, standing at the staircase leading up to the bedrooms, not wanting to wake anyone up.

He takes a long moment to reply. “I don’t fucking know, Tay. He sure isn’t the sanest bulb in the box.”

Another snort escapes me. I feel like I’ll start laughing and never stop. Hysterical, probably. Not a good idea. “Jesus. Why would he come after me?” I swallow hard. “Or you?”

“Who the hell knows? Listen…” He sighs. “I’ll come pick you up tomorrow, with the kids, go to the police. Then I’ll bring you all back and head out to work. Right before eight, okay? Be ready.”

“Okay,” I say again, still too wired with adrenaline, from the message, and from the sex before.

“Hey, girl…”

“Yeah?” I don’t know why I like it when he calls me that.

Or Tay.

Or just about anything.

Jeez, Octavia.

“Wear a dress tomorrow,” he says.

I blink, confused. “For the police?”

“No, goddammit. For me.”

And he disconnects, leaving me stunned for the second time in the space of ten minutes.

A dress. For him.

Jesus. I should never have let him dictate what I should wear, but the wave of heat washing through my body takes my breath away.

My insides clench, familiar need making my pussy t

hrob, and I can still feel him inside me, feel his cock that filled me up so perfectly earlier tonight. I remember his mouth on my nipples, his fingers inside me, then how he lifted me up and pounded into me, and his face… His face as he came, eyes wide, a growl caught in his throat.

How can a simple command from him, one I shouldn’t have accepted in the first place, make me throb with want? How can one frown, one smile from him have me begging for more? And above all… What does it all mean to him? I wonder. Does it mean anything at all?

Because God help me, it’s starting to mean way too much for me…

In the morning, in the bright light of day, without Matt’s voice in my ear, I debate not wearing a dress.

Call me feminist, but I’ve never done anything just because a guy told me to do it, and it still smarts that he ordered me not to wear my dresses in his house until now.

Lots of the things he said to me are still smarting.

But the way he said it—the command in his voice, that low growl he produces when he’s excited… Like a huge wolf, ready to pounce.

I put on the frigging dress before I overthink it more.

It’s the dress I wore the first time we met, when he didn’t even let me into his house. Same shoes, same everything. Curious to see if he’ll notice, if he even remembers.

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