Page 42 of Auctioned to the Devil

My stomach flips. “I’m wearing clothes.”

“Barely.”

“You’re not wearing a shirt.”

“It’s my house.”

“Convenient.”

His gaze moves down my legs.

Slow.

Unapologetic.

When he looks back up, there’s nothing playful in his expression anymore.

“Go upstairs.”

I swallow. “Or what?”

His grip tightens around the rifle.

Not threatening.

Controlled.

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want answered.”

Every inch of my skin heats.

I should turn around.

Instead I whisper, “Maybe I do.”

His eyes darken. Silence stretches between us.

Then something hits the side of the house.

I jump.

Caleb moves instantly, putting himself between me and the window.

The flirtation vanishes.

“Stay behind me.”

“Was that someone?”

“Probably snow falling off the roof.”

“Probably?”

He checks outside, waits, then lowers the rifle.

“Clear.”

I release the breath trapped in my chest.