Disgruntled that he needed lessons, Tristan took the ax and arranged his hands as Cade instructed.
"Good. Just like that."
The words of praise sent shivers of excitement through his entire body, and as Cade stepped behind him, surrounded him with long arms, and covered his hands with his much larger ones, Tristan's heart rate skyrocketed, and his stomach fluttered. Instead of the clean outdoor air, his nose filled with Cade's scent, soap from the shower that he recognized, and another spicy scent he couldn't quite place. Wrapped in the feel and smell of the other man, Tristan struggled to focus.
"Now, when you swing, you want to do it in an arc, like this," Cade instructed as he slowly swung the ax. "See how that feels?" he cooed, his voice low and seductive, tickling Tristan's neck just an inch from his ear. His mouth hovered so close that if Tristan turned his head, their lips would meet. And then what? Would Cade kiss him back? Or, you know, kill him for his presumptuousness and hide his body in the woods?
"Okay, you try now."
Tristan swallowed past the lump in his throat and hoped he wouldn't fall into a boneless heap when Cade let go.
When the other man stepped away, Tristan's skin still sizzled, but he managed to remain upright. Focusing on his task, he squared his shoulders, took a deep breath to center himself, then gripped and swung the ax precisely as Cade showed him. It landed cleanly on the wood and split it into two halves, just as it should. With a small sense of satisfaction, he glanced at his housemate for validation.
"Good. Now keep doing it, just like that."
Oh, god.
The idea of hearing those words from Cade in an entirely different scenario flitted through Tristan's brain. He had to get a hold of himself and focus on the dangerous implement he held so that he didn't, say, accidentally chop his toes off.
Doing his best to ignore the man watching him, he got another piece of wood and repeated the actions, trying to remember everything he'd been taught. Again, it came down perfectly.
With blooming confidence, he tried another, then another. For a while, he happily chopped, working up a sweat and enjoying the sun on his skin and the good kind of tiredness that came with physical exertion. All the while, Cade leaned against the cabin with his arms crossed and one foot hooked over the other, observing with an unreadable expression and looking dark, brooding and disinterested.
Tristan felt a brief pang of envy at how well the other man hid his true feelings. Despite trying to gauge Cade's interest in him, he still didn't know for sure if he had imagined that look of desire in his eyes a few days ago. Cade's reactions to his casual touches and subtle flirting had been promising; he had seemed uncomfortable, perhaps even flustered, but Tristan still had nothing solid to go on.
As he paused to wipe the sweat from his face, he decided to push a little further. He set down the ax, stripped off his damp t-shirt, and used a dry section to wipe off his face and neck. He tossed the shirt aside and glanced at the other man.
For several heartbeats, Cade gawked at his naked torso, his lips slightly parted, his face faintly flushed, but then his focus snapped up, and their gazes locked. Before Tristan could open his mouth to make a teasing comment, Cade mumbled about going inside, and a few seconds later, he was gone.
Tristan stood frozen, trying to process the interaction, almost sure now that he wasn't imagining that look in his housemate's expression.
A look of wanting.
But disappointment marred his small victory; from inside the cabin, Cade couldn't offer comments that made him tremble with anticipation, couldn't watch him with those dark eyes that made him feel exposed even when fully clothed.
As he continued to chop, his thoughts swarmed with images of the dark-haired killer with rugged sex appeal and arms as thick as the logs he split. Every inch of Cade, at least that he'd seen so far, was powerful and gorgeous, and he was sure the rest would be as well.
Yet his attraction went beyond the physical. There was something about Cade's quiet strength, his tendency to listen without judgment, his ability to offer sympathy and comfort without making Tristan feel weak. He could be kind and attentive, like when he noticed Tristan was cold or that his back was going to hurt, and he could be so gentle, like when he treated his burn with steady, careful hands.
And then there was the promise.
When Cade had vowed to eliminate the monsters who took Natalie, Tristan's emotions had swirled, a dizzying combination ofsatisfaction, vindication and gratefulness. The pledge to do something so important to Tristan had felt heavy and meaningful, and beyond saying thank you, he had been at a loss for a proper response.
What was the appropriate reaction when a hot, kind, good-guy assassin promised to terminate those responsible for trafficking your sister? Was there a subreddit for that?
His attraction to Cade had blossomed into a living, breathing being, taking his penchant for bad boys to a dangerous extreme, leaving him burning with lust, but also filling his heart with feelings so soft and tender that the intensity of the combination seemed impossible to resist.
When Tristan's conscience piped up to blast him for thinking about sexy guys and getting laid when Natalie was missing and suffering god knows what, a wave of guilt rolled over him, so harsh that he dropped the ax and sucked in some deep, cleansing breaths.
But another part of his brain reminded him he was helpless to do anything to find Nat right now, having run out of ideas and resources. He had put his faith in Cade and his associates and could do nothing but wait and pray. So it's not like his lusty thoughts were hurting anything, right?
Feeling angry, helpless and overwhelmed by confusion about the current situation and his inability to process his own emotions, he vowed to ignore the thoughts for a while. He grabbed his damp shirt and went into the cabin, walking quickly by Cade and throwing a quick, "I'm going to shower," over his shoulder. He remembered to grab clean clothes before disappearing into the bathroom, which was either the smartest or dumbest move ever.
The jury was still out on that.
When Tristan emerged from the bathroom, he felt calmer and more centered. He offered to heat up canned soup for lunch, andthey ate quietly, with only the clinking of their spoons against the ceramic bowls and soft slurping noises interrupting the silence. While Cade washed the dishes, Tristan remained at the table, running his finger over the grain in the wood.
"What do you want to do? Should we play backgammon again?" he asked when Cade slotted back into the chair.
