Page 56 of No, You Hang Up

Without warning, Huxley pulls me into the tub with a yelp. He’s careful, so my body doesn’t hit the porcelain in any place that might hurt, and he tugs me against him so my head is above water. “HUXLEY!” I shriek, dripping wet as my clothes stick to my body. At least all I’m wearing is a t-shirt and shorts, but still. It’s the principle of the matter. “What the?—”

“You were starting to get preachy,” he tells me sweetly. “And neither of us wants to argue about things we cannot change. You don’t want to hear about what I do when I get restless? That’s totally fine.” He wraps his arms around me, leaning forward so his knees bracket my legs. The water is still delightfully hot, and with the bubble layer on the top of it, it’s hard to remember there’s blood in this water under all of the soap.

Blood from someone who might not have deserved whatever Hux did to them.

“Fuck, you’re awful,” I murmur, not fighting his fingers as he tugs off my shirt and then goes for my shorts as well. “Did you know that you’re awful?”

“Yeah, I know I’m probably the worst,” Hux agrees. “But you don’t really mind, do you, pretty girl?” He turns me in his arms, until my back is pressed to his chest. “Don’t preach about things you can’t change, okay?” His hand brushes my inner thigh, and when I feel his fingers at my slit, I gasp and arch against him.

“Take a minute to think about how much it bothers you.” His tone is wicked, his advice awful. “I’ll give you something to distract you in the meantime.”

It doesn’t bother me enough. Not nearly enough, judging by how easy it was for him to distract me from my worries. After the bath, Huxley really does clean up the floors, while I watch and sip Dr. Pepper in a very judgmental way. He even gives a few shakes of his hips, covered by his loose sweatpants, that make me snort every time.

“I’m only letting you stay because Patrice is really charmed by your face,” I inform him when he’s done. He snags my can of Dr. Pepper from me and downs the rest of it, but I just watch him with a raised brow.

“I could kill her next,” he offers, tossing it in the trash in the kitchen. Then he goes to the fridge, pulling out a grocery bag that definitely wasn’t there before. “I’m cooking, by the way. Tacos.”

“A man after my heart. On both counts.” I hide my surprise that he can cook by sitting down at the island, my chin in my hands. “You can’t kill her.” I sigh at last, though I roll my eyes as I say it with long-suffering frustration. “It would probably, I don’t know, come back to bite me in the ass, somehow. This would somehow be the murder that you’re actually caught for.” I chew on my nail while he works, and I realize he’s actually really good at fixing food.

Judging by the fact that my idea of cooking is throwing something in the microwave or maybe even the oven in a pan if I’m getting frisky. Though, that’s of course right after I’ve pulled it out of the freezer. But here Huxley is, making everything from scratch on the stove. He’s even using a cutting board I didn’t know I had until now.

“Are you trying to win points?” I ask. “Like, for me to keep you around?”

“Is it working?”

“Depends on how good those tacos are.”

He chuckles, and when he can, comes over to rest his forearms on the counter to meet my eyes, leaning in to gently brush his lips to mine. “I don’t need to win any more points, Kai. You’re stuck with me no matter what.” He’s close enough when he says it that I feel the words fan against my lips.

I don’t sit back. I kiss him back, deepening our connection, until I finally have to break for a breath. “You should keep trying anyway.” My words are soft, and his shudder makes me wonder if he can feel them like I felt his.

“Oh, yeah? What’s the next prize I’m aiming for? Killing Patrice?”

My grin widens, and I reach out to tangle my fingers in his t-shirt to lick at his lower lip. “It’s a surprise. So keep trying to find out, Hux.”

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