Page 32 of Beneath the Hood

Usually, a question like that would send hot rage spewing through me like lava, but instead I’m holding back something else.The truth. For a split second, I try to find the words to tell him, but I’m not sure where to look. I don’t even know what theyare. So, I push the feeling back down, letting it find another deep, dark spot to hide, somewhere I can ignore that it exists.

He doesn’t really want to know about things like that anyway.

We turn into a neighborhood, surprise flickering through me as he pulls into the drive of a cozy, single-story house with white shutters and a dark wood door.

“This is where you live?” I blurt.

He turns off the ignition and leans into his car door, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Not grand enough for you, princess?”

I shake my head. “No… no I like it.”

Walking in the front door, I take in my surroundings, the subtle notes of tan and white furniture offsetting the emptiness of the space. There’s a complete lack of personality, like it’s a temporary place for him to sleep, not somewhere he could make a home. Fear skirts around inside of me at the reminder that even though he lives here, his home is somewhere else.

With other people.

I didn’t expect the thought to bother me so much, but I guess I didn’t really expect Jackson, either. Now, there’s nothing I want more than for him to stick around so I can soak in his presence.

With him, even when I’m still, the seconds don’t feel wasted.

“Okay, princess. I’ll give you the tour later. First, you can look for something that’s good enough to be yourfuel.” He walks into the kitchen, gesturing to the fridge.

I smile, skipping after him, relief untangling the knot that’s been in my stomach since he mentioned food. Walking to the stainless-steel fridge, I open the door and bend down, searching through the shelves. His fridge is surprisingly well-stocked with a variety of choices and it doesn’t take me long to find something I can handle.

Grabbing some chicken breasts, romaine lettuce, cherry tomatoes, and an avocado, I stand back up and spin, a grin stretched across my face. But my smile slips when I see that Jackson is frozen in place, leaning against the kitchen counter, his eyes burning through my clothes, singeing my skin as they slowly trail up my body. The green in his gaze is dark. It makes heat flood between my legs, my heart kicking against my chest.

I swallow, taking slow steps toward him, feeling the warmth of his stare as I set the food next to a wood cutting board.

“Any of this will work, so you can choose,” I mumble.

“Can I?” His voice is low and it sends pinpricks of pleasure trickling down my spine. My fingers grip the edge of the counter and I breathe in deep.

One. Two. Three.

“Yeah.” I spin toward him. “Anything in front of you, you can have.”

His Adam’s apple bobs and it makes my clit throb, a deep ache settling in my womb.

“Anything?” he rasps, taking a step closer.

I nod, my stomach flipping and free-falling with anticipation, my heart pounding against my ribs.

His cell vibrates on the counter next to me and I look down, the wordSweetheartdancing across the screen. Reality drops into my gut like a rock.

God, I’m such an idiot.

He glances to his phone, the muscle along the bottom of his jaw tightening as he reaches out to silence it. By the time his eyes come back to mine, the moment is lost. He sighs, running a hand through his hair and walking to the cutting board, starting to prep the chicken.

“Don’t wanna get that?” I nod toward his phone.

He shakes his head. “It’d be rude to answer while I’m with you.”

“I don’t mind.”

Idomind, but the need to know who “sweetheart” is and why he doesn’t want to speak to her when I’m around is strangling me and I think I mind that more.

“Who’s sweetheart?” The question rolls off my tongue without my permission, my throat tightening.

His nostrils flare. “A friend from back home.”

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