Chapter Fifteen

Silence wakes me.

Loud silence and complete darkness.

Silence, to my ears, is as loud as gunshots, so the moment the room is plunged into quietude, I jackknife up in bed, heart racing, panic galloping.

Reaching blindly to the nightstand, I find my glasses and chuck them on. At once, my focus is drawn to the upright rectangle of light streaming into the room, silhouetted with a masculine figure.

What’s he doing here?

“Jaxon?”

I watch his outline as it pivots into the room and strides over to the bed. One hand moves, and the bedside lamp comes on.

Shoulders tense, he stares down at me. Seeming…peeved.

“You turned off the telly?” I say, a half question, half statement.

“You were asleep.”

“So?”

“So, I turned it off.”

“And it woke me up.” I’m annoyed now.

He takes a step back. “How, exactly, does turning off the TV wake you up?”

Beneath the sheets, my fingers curl into useless fists. “Because of…silence! You woke me up with the silence, you clueless sod!”

I’m officially freaking out.

Why am I freaking out? Lights are on. Jaxon is here, talking. Stop freaking out!

His lips part. He blinks. “Oh. I forgot. I’m sorry.” He touches two long fingers to the mattress, near my thigh, and drags them back and forth, back and forth, pensive. “Is that why you’re here? Because there’s no TV in my room?”

I nod. “Sorry. I can’t sleep in silence or complete darkness. Silence is deafening for me, and darkness makes it even louder.”

He nods again. “I don’t watch much TV. When I do wanna watch something, I download it to my computer.”

“Jolly.” I need to get back to sleep. “Do you mind turning the telly back on, please?”

“I can get one set up for you tomorrow.”

“That’s nice. But for tonight, I’m staying where the telly is.” I pat the mattress, feel around. “Where did you put the remote?”

“You can use my laptop for tonight.”

I stop searching for the remote and look up at him. Why is he pushing this? Why is he not leaving?

I’m a nice person. Sometimes. I’m a kind person. Sometimes. I like the world, and I like people. Sometimes. But when I’m sleepy, I’m nasty and I’m cranky. I like my sleep, and I like my dreams even more. Not to mention he just woke me up from a sweet dream. A juicy dream of him kissing me against a wall and touching my bare thigh.

Suffice it to say, I’m not a happy camper at the moment.

“Or,” I grit out, “you could turn this telly back on, leave the room, and I can go back to sleep. Yeah?”

For a long moment he just stands there, until he makes an abrupt turn and walks out of the room.

With a huff and a grunt, I climb out of bed and yank off the comforter, shaking it out, along with the pillows.

No remote.

I switch the ceiling lights on and begin searching—nightstands, under the bed, everywhere.

No remote.

I growl. This is ridiculous! Where the hell is the remote?

All right. Manual it is, then. I stomp over to the telly and check for the buttons on the side. I press the on/off button.

Nothing happens.

I press it harder. Nothing happens.

I check the plug, just to be sure it is, in fact, plugged into the wall socket.

It is.

Okay. So…the telly is plugged in, yet it won’t come to life, and the remote has mysteriously disappeared.

Right.

Out of frustration, I begin pressing hard at all the buttons, because it’s suddenly dawned on me what’s happened here.

Jaxon. He did this! Deliberately.

To get his way.

Hands fisted at my side, I march out of the room, down the stairs, through the big ole house, and straight to Jaxon’s bedroom. I find him at the side of his bed, setting up a laptop on one of the nightstands.

“You knew. Of course, you did. You’re a bloody con!”

“Not sure what you’re talking about.” With his attention on the laptop, sounding all kinds of insouciant and bored, he asks, “What would you like to watch you sleep? Got seasons of Arrow and The Flash downloaded.”

“You already knew that if you powered off the telly it would wake me. You did it on purpose.”

“A very active imagination you have there, Timber,” he mumbles as he click-clicks on the laptop. “Also have the first three seasons of The Big Bang Theory. Right up your alley. I’ll put them on shuffle and repeat for you.”

The fact that he’d begun setting up his laptop before I even came down here— If that isn’t clear evidence he did it all on purpose to get me back in his room, then I don’t know what is.

For that, I refuse to sleep here out of spite. “Fine. I’ll sleep in the living room. There’s a telly out there.”

“Suit yourself,” he murmurs, still dicking around with the laptop, never casting me so much as a glance.

With a hrumph, I spin on my bare feet and flounce out to the living area…and draw up short.

My head is about to explode.

Ex-plode.

All the cushions from all the sofas have been removed.

Wanker, wanker, wanker! Bloody stinking wanker!

I didn’t expect this childish crap from him. He’s the aloof, taciturn type. Not the type to pull sophomore crap like this in order to get his way. He learned of my weakness, and now he’s using it to his advantage. What a cheat!

My head is hot, so hot, but I force myself to take deep, calming breaths as I trek back to his room.

Calm…calm…don’t give in to the rage.

He’s standing at the bathroom threshold now, squirting toothpaste onto his toothbrush.

As calmly as possible, given my mood, I stop just inside the bedroom doorway and ask, “Where are the cushions?”

His head sweeps up at the question, his mouth opens as if to reply, but then his mouth just stays open, leaving his eyes to do all the talking.

They swallow me whole and spit me right back out on a choke. But then they slowly begin to savor me, minuscule bit by minuscule bit.

His mouth closes.

He swallows.

By this point, I’m positive I’m the same color as that damned red door. Caught up in my vexation and need for sleep, I’d completely forgotten about the flimsiness of my sleepwear, the lack of coverage, the nothing that is this nightgown.

I inadvertently asked for it. And now I’ve been thoroughly ravished. By Jaxon King’s greedy eyes.

911, emergency.

He blinks, one, two, three times, then shoves his toothbrush into his mouth, turns, and slams the bathroom door.

“Bazinga!” Sheldon Cooper’s voice rings in the background.

I sigh.

I sigh because it’s obvious that Jaxon thought ahead and eliminated every possible alternative to sleeping in his bed. He knows I won’t go banging on Ed’s or Kav’s doors asking to room with them.

I accept defeat for tonight.

Grumbling, I close the door behind me and amble over to the bed. I remove my glasses and climb in, tugging the covers all the way up to my neck.

There are six pillows on the bed. I take three and fix them in a straight line down the middle of the mattress. I don’t want to be too close to him tonight. I’m far more annoyed with him right now than aroused.

Therefore, tonight won’t be the night that he kisses me again and touches my bare thigh.

Eyes closed, The Big Bang Theory playing in the background, I breathe out a relaxed sigh as consciousness settles in for a long break.

I hear the bathroom door open, but I keep my eyes closed to deter him from talking to me.

His voice comes at me anyway. “That side of the bed is mine.”

“So is the bank account you’re locked out of.”

To that, nothing.

There’s a bit of rustling, and the mattress dips with his weight as he climbs in.

“A time or two, I imagined what you would look like angry. Are you always this hostile after midnight? Got a werewolf gene or something?”

Why is he talking so damned much? He never talks. Especially to me. Usually, he just looks down at me and walks off. Now he’s initiating a conversation? Will the real Jaxon step forward, please? Is it the Jaxon who doesn’t talk and walks around with zero expression or opinions, or is it the Jaxon I’m seeing now, when no one else is around?

My brain is too confused, so I don’t answer.

Thankfully, he takes the hint and doesn’t force me to talk. I refocus on falling asleep. The dialogue from the sitcom is just starting to lull me to the brink of unconsciousness when Jaxon’s voice blocks the path, “You forgot the bad facts again today.”

At this, my eyes flick open involuntarily. But I don’t flip over to face him.

“What?” I ask, and immediately regret giving in. Did he know the word “facts” would rouse me? Get me to talk?

He shifts. I feel it. “Today, when you were telling everyone about shrimp, you forgot to tell them that shrimp trawling destroys up to five pounds of incidental bycatch for every pound of shrimp taken. You forgot to tell them that shrimp trawling kills as many as fifty thousand turtles every year, and sometimes up to sixteen thousand seabirds each year. Dolphins, whales, young fishes that should be left to grow and breed all die of bycatch… Not to mention the irreparable damage to the coral beds. Don’t just share the good facts, Timber. Share the bad ones, too.”

Wow. Okay. This is the second time he’s called me out for sharing only good facts. However, with the new knowledge that he’s a vegan, I kind of understand his keenness on the whole truth being told about the shrimp.

“I don’t like sharing bad facts,” I say. “My aim is to inform people with cool truths, not depress them.”

“It doesn’t work that way.” Adamancy rings through his tone. “You can’t partially inform someone. You can’t give them the cool bit and leave out the depressing info. You have to give it all.”

Bloody Christ, what a nerd. But it’s also kind of sweet how much he cares. “Okay, okay. I’ll make sure to share both good and bad facts, since it bothers you so much. Can I go to sleep now?”

No answer.

Another rustle.

A pillow flies over me, landing with a soft thud on the floor. Another follows. And then a third. Bastard. He destroyed my barrier.

Before I can argue about it, an arm curves around my middle and pulls me back into the heat of him. Not so we’re touching, just close enough that I can feel his fire. He’s just so…hot. So very…hot.

Or is it me who’s hot? Am I the one burning?

His hand is removed, much to my dismay, and he makes no attempt to touch me further.

However, he does reply, through the breath of a dragon, “Now you can.”

Flames engulf me.

And I die.