Page 5 of Obsessed Fox

Hendrix sauntered, yes sauntered because that was the only way to describe how he moved, until he was standing on the other side of my bed. I could see his movements through my lashes as I was doing everything I could not to make eye contact.

"Going somewhere means the store or a friend’s house. It doesn't involve packing clothes and"—he snatched the duffel off the bed before I could stop him and rifled through it—"fake IDs. So tell me, Mais, or"—he glanced down—"Emily." I met his annoyed gaze with my own. "Poor choice of a name, by the way. You look nothing like an Emily. So tell me, where the hell do you think you're going?"

I launched myself across the bed and managed to snatch the ID and duffel away from him. Something I was very much aware he allowed me to do because there was no way I was faster than him.

"It's none of your business. I've told you already, I'm not interested in whateverthisis you think is going on between us," I said, waving my hand back and forth between our bodies. He didn't need the visual but my hands were shaking and the only way to hide it was to keep them moving.

"Thismeaning the best sex of your life that you refuse to let us repeat?"

Gah! That was the exact incident I didn't want to think about right now.

"Don't flatter yourself. I've had better."

Liar!

Big fat hunking liar!

I knew it. My traitorous vagina knew it. Hell, Hendrix knew it. Which he confirmed when he scoffed at me.

"Bullshit, Mais. The connection we have isn't something that comes around often. It's a once-in-a-lifetime kinda thing."

Maybe if I wasn't a murderer, I would’ve agreed with him but that wasn't my life. I killed a man—well, now two—and was a wanted fugitive. Love wasn't in the cards for me no matter how great the sex was. And it was pretty damn good. Hendrix understood the female anatomy as only someone who studied it extensively could.

And now I was thinking about his previous partners and that little green monster that always got me in trouble was rearing its ugly head.

"Well, now I'm curious what that look is all about." Hendrix’s flirty tone hit me like a ton of bricks.

My scowl was met by a cocky grin. I hated how sure he was of himself all the time.

Okay, I hated itmostof the time. The other times it was a complete turn-on but we already established that wasn't happening again.

"None of your business. Now if you don't mind showing yourself out the same way you broke in, I would appreciate it."

I took one last look around the small bedroom. I would miss this place. And I didn't just mean the town. This apartment was my sanctuary. This bedroom represented me even better than the bakery did. I spared no expense to make this room everything I ever wanted.

And for what? So I could just one day leave it without being able to take anything with me.

Life sucked.

Adulting sucked.

"Ain't going to happen, Mais."

“Jesus Christ!” I yelped, forgetting he was still in the room. "Why are you still here?!" I swung my head around and gave him my best death stare. It did nothing but make him chuckle.

Bastard.

"I already told you I'm not going anywhere. At least, not until you tell me why you're running away."

The man was infuriating. I needed to give him something, otherwise he would never let me go and I was running out of time. I'm sure the sheriff's department had already run my prints.

"Because I killed a man today, okay?" I hissed. "So if you don't mind, I'd like to leave before I'm forced to spend time in a jail cell."

I made my way to the bedroom door but Hendrix was faster. He blocked my exit with his delectable body. One I was way too familiar with.

"Self-defense. Even a blind man could see that."

I scoffed at the ridiculousness of his reasoning but didn't comment. At least not on that. I did however whisper, "Maybe … if it had been my first time."

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