Page 17 of Shadows of Obsession

My cheeks burned with the unbidden recollection of the way his body had moved, all rippling muscle and sinewy grace as he'd wielded that axe. I swallowed hard, forcing my thoughts back into line as I rinsed the shampoo from my hair.

I'd come here seeking a new start, not to embroil myself in some emotional entanglement. I wouldn't allow any rebounding or indulgence of misplaced curiosity where this Jaxon guy was concerned.Not if I wanted to protect the independence I was fighting so hard to earn.Still, Connor's cryptic remarks about dinner could only mean one thing: more involvement with his unconventionalfriend. The thought alone made my shoulders sag with weary resignation.

After dressing in a fresh set of well-worn sweats that hung comfortably off my frame, I heard the faint murmur of the television drifting up from the den. Curious despite myself, I descended the staircase and peeked into the empty kitchen, noting the oven's cheerfully glowing light. Connor was clearly at work preparing dinner, but heaven only knew what kind of spectacle he had in mind.

I shook my head and turned toward the den, oddly hesitant about what I might find. But the moment I rounded the corner into the dimly lit room, I stopped short—all thoughts fleeing as the blood drained from my face.

There, lounging on the plush sectional as though he owned the place, was Jaxon himself. His broad shoulders spanned the entire sofa, forearms draped casually along the backrest as his penetrating blue stare met mine with chilling indifference.

You've got to be kidding me.The words slipped past my lips before I could stop them, my eyes swinging toward Connor in mute accusation.

Connor simply shrugged, the picture of nonchalant innocence, as a slow grin stretched across his mouth. "Good thing I had enough pizza for three, huh?"

I closed my eyes briefly, willing myself to remain composed despite the mortified flush creeping up my neck. This had to be some sort of sick joke, right? Surely Connor wouldn't be so brazened as to actually invite Jaxon over for dinner after everything I'd told him about our disastrous first encounter.

But the flicker of Connor's expression suggested otherwise... as did the quiet scoff from the currently unwanted houseguest sprawled in a proprietary lounge against the cushions. As much as I wanted to politely remove myself until the situation resolved, I recognized that particular stubborn set to Connor's jawline.

No. This impromptu reunion was happening whether I liked it or not.

Steeling myself beneath the weight of his expectant stare, I lifted my chin in defiance and strode purposefully into the den. If he wanted a show, so be it. I would play the unruffled guest.

When Connor disappeared into the kitchen, the weighted silence that followed felt almost oppressive, a tangible cloud of awkwardness and unspoken tension. I perched rigidly on the opposite end of the sofa from Jaxon, my body angled subtly away as I diligently avoided so much as glancing in his direction.

For his part, the brooding man seemed equally intent on ignoring my existence, blue eyes narrowed and jaw tight as he stared down at his phone.

The silence stretched on, each passing second amplifying the crackling tension in the room. My nails picked ruthlessly at an invisible pill on my sweats as I struggled to think of something, anything, neutral to say. Anything to cut through the unbearable quiet before it smothered me completely.

At last, I couldn't bear it any longer. Drawing a steadying breath, I finally broke the ice, my tone carefully modulated to sound remorseful.

"I'm sorry for showing up at your place earlier. I wasn't trying to bother you." The words emerged softly, almost hesitant, as if I were still wary of how the volatile man might react, no matter how well-intentioned my overture.

As if on cue, Jaxon's head snapped toward me, eyes widening in surprise before narrowing into flinty slits of suspicion. His assessing gaze raked over me in a single, unhurried sweep, lingering where my damp hair spilled over my shoulders.

When our eyes met, my breath hitched. The way his gaze bore straight through me—unguarded, unreadable, shimmering with something I couldn't name—sent my pulse slamming against my throat.

"It's fine," Jaxon grunted at last, the words as rough and unrefined as the man himself. His expression remained impassive, though a muscle ticked in his jaw. "Now you know to stay away next time."

Before I could draw my next breath, he'd already plucked up the remote and begun cycling through Netflix, desperate for any distraction that could draw his focus away from me.

A soft, disbelieving scoff escaped before I could bite it back. I had approached him in good faith. Offered an olive branch, an apology forany unintentional boundary violation, only to be met with the same curt dismissal. Still, I refused to let the sting of his words chase me off.

Setting my jaw, I turned my attention to the flickering screen, curious despite myself to see what could possibly capture the interest of a man like him.

As if perfectly timed to capitalize on the strained truce, Connor appeared in the entryway shouldering a tray laden with steaming pizza and perspiring beer bottles.

"Hope you two have been getting along and working up a real appetite," he said with a roguish grin, somehow managing to convey with one look that he saw straight through our act of forced civility. "Because I've brought enough pizza to feed a small army!"

Without waiting for a reply, he strode into the room and deposited his cargo onto the coffee table with a decisive thunk. Straightening, he was met with blank, pointed stares. Mine a defiant challenge and Jaxon's a deadpan wall of indifference despite the tension sparking between us.

A muscle twitched in Connor's jaw as he debated whether to poke the bear or let it go. Evidently deciding discretion was the better part of valor, he raised his palms in surrender and dropped onto the sectional, eyes glinting impishly.

The look I shot him was equal parts fond exasperation and silent warning, though I knew the battle was already lost. Jaxon merely snorted and reclaimed his stretch of sofa, his movements deliberate, radiating cool disinterest.

For several long seconds that stretched into minutes, silence reclaimed the room, broken only by the soft crackle of melting cheese as Connor popped the lids from the beers. The scent of freshly baked pizza filled the air.

Reaching for a slice with one nonchalant hand, Connor finally broke the tension.

"So... you two best pals for life yet, or am I off base?" He paused just long enough to take an indecently large bite, his gaze flicking between us with mock innocence.