Jackson’s hand freezes midair, caught halfway to his target. For one stupid second, I think maybe I got away with it. Then his attention snaps up, straight to me. He releases the boy without a second glance, like nothing else matters now.
“Well,” he says, his voice carrying easily through the silence, calm in a way that makes my pulse spike harder. “That’s new.” He cocks his head at me. “Come down here.”
I take a step back, every nerve alight, adrenaline rushing through me.
“No,” I tell him. “I don’t think I will.”
I edge backward, judging the distance between me and Carrson’s bedroom. Between me and Jackson. Which is shorter? Who can run faster?
I can already see it, slamming Carrson’s door shut, locking it, putting solid wood between me and—
“That’s fine,” Jackson says calmly, almost amused. “I’ll come to you.”
He starts up the stairs, moving fast but not running. I turn and sprint down the hall, but I have to pass the head of the stairs and somehow, impossibly, he’s already there.
He steps onto the landing, cutting me off.
I stop short, less than a foot between us, my lungs working hard from the sprint and the spike of fear.
Now that we’re face to face, Jackson takes his time looking me over, like he’s taking inventory. “Who do you belong to?”
I bristle immediately. “No one.”
Hetakes a step closer, and I match it with a step backward. “But how are you here? Women aren’t allowed.”
“I—uh—I’m Carrson’s…friend,” I stutter out.
Jackson throws his head back and barks out a laugh, but the sound cuts off as quickly as it came. “Now I know you’re lying. Carrson doesn’t have women over.Ever.”
We’ve been moving this whole time, me backing up, him advancing, but now there’s nowhere left to go. My back hits the wall between the doors.
Jackson cages me in, his eyes alight, gleeful.
“Well now,” he murmurs. “Aren’t you a pretty little thing?”
He reaches out, lifting a strand of my hair between his fingers. He brings it to his nose and inhales. My skin crawls. I twist my head to the side, searching for space, for an opening. Anything.
“And this shirt…” His gaze drifts downward. “Showing off those legs.”
His hand drops to my hips before sliding lower.
A shudder runs through me at the contact. I press my hands against his chest, pushing back.
“Get off me,” I grit. “Go away.”
He shifts just enough for me to see the other men still below us, watching without intervening.
The only person missing is the boy. At least he got away safely.
“You don’t belong here.” Jackson lowers his head, his lips grazing my ear. “But I’m glad you are.”
His hand drifts over the bare skin of my thigh, and fear spikes through me. I shove harder at his chest, trying to force space between us, but it’s no use.
His hand slips under the hem of the shirt.
Then stops.
“Wait.” His voice drops even lower. “Are you not wearing anything under this?” He leans in until his face fills my vision, blue eyes flat and cold, blotting out everything else. I brace against the wall, trying to push him off, but it’s like shoving at a block of granite.
