"Do you trust me?"

The words slipped from Jaxon’s mouth like a dare, his voice low and rough, the way it had been the first night we met the night I told myself he was trouble. He still is. Only now, trouble feels like the only thing keeping me breathing.

I didn’t answer. Not immediately. Not with the way the cold wind from the docks cut through my jacket, nor with his fingers pressing lightly into the small of my back as though he knew I might bolt.

"Trust isn’t something you ask ...