Page 17 of Pleasure & Prey: Vol. 2

But I’m too tired to argue with myself tonight. Too tired to do more than sink into the mattress and let my head fall onto one of his soft pillows that smell like him and his sharply scented body wash. I curl onto my side and stare out the dark window, thoughts reeling from our conversation and the things he’d said.

I don’t know what to do. My eyes close, thoughts hazy as I feel myself sinking into sleep while I listen to Jed move around downstairs. What if he isn’t lying to me? I fade off with that thought in my brain, clenching blankets he’d slept on and a pillow that smells enough like Jed to assure any dreams I have will be of him.

9

I’m surprised to wake up earlier than him. It’s pure instinct to tiptoe around when I do wake up, hating that I’m still wearing the same clothes from the last few days. They’re starting to feel disgusting, and it’s taking all of my willpower to not be constantly grossed out by them with every move I make.

But I do the best I can in the bathroom mirror; washing my face and finger combing my hair that’s started to sense a rebellion is on the rise. In a few more days, I’ll have to chop it off to end the mutiny that’s coming. That, or deal with mats the likes of which the world has never seen.

And being tender-headed, that’s a no go for me whenever I can help it.

When I tiptoe back out of the bathroom, rolling my shoulders to loosen them and relieve my stiff neck, my ears pick up movement from below. A low sound, at first, but one that draws me to the railing at the edge of the room, when something clatters to the wooden floor.

The first thing I see is the length of smooth skin that makes up Jed’s back. Half sitting, half leaning over to search the floor with splayed fingers like he isn’t really awake yet, I can see that his pj pants have ridden down to sit low on his hips; revealing more of his skin to me than I’ve seen before.

God, no one who cuts people up with chainsaws should be this gorgeous. But that thought only drives the conversation from last night through my skull like a nail, and I close my eyes against his words. Against his explanations.

Against the fact he’s happy I’m here, even though he wishes there were better circumstances. I hate the fact I’d marveled at the food he made. I hate even more that I’d been so willing to listen, and that I’m still so fucking willing to understand.

But there’s nothing to understand. If he’s not lying to me, then he’s a psycho. One or the other.

My eyes open, and my stomach lurches into my throat when I see he’s sitting on the couch, head resting on the back of it, tilted up so he can look at me. His blue eyes, so shocking even from this far away, wait patiently for mine to find them, and I can’t help but stare right back.

I need to say something. I need to diffuse the situation, but the suddenly heavy air in the cabin makes me feel like I can barely breathe.

All I can do is stare at him. Even from up here, I can read a fathom of emotion in those sleepy eyes. Hopefulness. Uncertainty.

And there’s something underneath. Something that lurks behind those emotions, using them as a mask to sit unseen. It makes me certain that he’s not the kind vigilante he’d presented himself as, and that his boyish charm isn’t quite all of him.

He’s hiding part of himself from me.

But I’m not sure I want to know what it is.

I blink, finally, and suck in a breath of cool air. It helps, so I do it again, all of me unfreezing as my fingers unclench ever-so-slightly from the railing I’m holding onto. All the while, I search for words in my mushy haze of thoughts; my lips parted in anticipation of whatever I find.

“Don’t you have a job?” They aren’t exactly the best I could offer, but I can’t take them back once they’re out in the world for him to hear. Still, my teeth clench, my jaw aching with the effort. That was a rude as hell question, and one he definitely doesn’t have to answer. What the hell does it matter if he has a job or not?

“I do.” Amusement laces with his words as they travel up to me, and when I finally get the courage to look at him once more, I see that Jed hasn’t moved. He’s still leaning on the back of the sofa. His hair tousled and his eyes sleepy and adorable.

In another life, I’d love for him to be up here instead of down there. I’d love to see his sleep-scattered expression up close, drag my hands through his soft-looking hair, and⁠—

“Aren’t they missing you?” The words from my mouth thankfully cut through the treacherous fantasy that shouldn’t be within a mile or ten of my brain.

“No.” He’s so casual when he says it, and shrugs one bare shoulder. “They don’t mind when I take some personal time.”

“Oh.” I pull on my sleeves, wrinkling my nose at the state my shirt is in. “You have to let me go home soon,” I add conversationally, this time looking at my hands instead of at him. “My clothes are getting disgusting.”

“I have a laundry machine,” Jed points out smoothly, without hesitation. “Why don’t you let me wash them?”

“Because I don’t intend to walk around here naked?” Wasn’t that obvious? I don’t add the last part, but I do let my gaze flick back up to his, skeptical of his words. Surely he doesn’t think I trust him nearly enough to take off my clothes while he’s here and just be naked. Hell, he can’t even trust me not to tell the cops what he is.

“I’m not asking you to.” He gets up and stretches, not bothering to do much to fix the waistline of his pants. I watch, unable to look away, as he stretches like a cat, all smooth muscle and impossible grace.

It’s unfortunate that when my eyes find his again, he’s looking at me as if he’s waiting for something.

But if I’m supposed to know what it is, then my brain isn’t helping me out by spelling the answer out for me. “Can I come up?” he asks finally, head tilting toward the staircase that he’s near.

“Okay.” It’s not a perfect answer, but he barely hesitates before taking the stairs languidly, like he has all day to do so. He opens the door after a brief pause, and looks at me where I still stand in front of the railing, my arms crossed on it while I try to look casual or relaxed.