Chapter 13
Jax had the water on as hot as it would go, the heat seeping into his tight neck muscles and melting the tension away. His mind replayed the scene with Jessa in his truck that night, her all-consuming anger and the blame she placed squarely at his feet.
What he’d told her was true. Ralph did know the danger that awaited him at Steele’s mansion, but that didn’t make her assessment any less correct. He was responsible for Ralph’s death. He’d always known that.
And now he desperately wanted Ralph’s wife. He wanted her in the cab of his truck when she cried and beat on him. He wanted her just now in the bedroom when she told him she couldn’t handle what was happening between them. He wanted her even more now than he did the night they’d made love.
What kind of person did that make him?
He closed his eyes against the searing spray. He’d always thought she was beautiful. But now things were different, more complicated, and he was far more culpable than he’d ever been before.
Because it wasn’t just sex. And it wasn’t just a preoccupation with her physical beauty.
He wanted Jessa, and not just in his bed.
He thought of Ralph and mumbled under his breath, “I hope it’s okay with you.
” He rubbed his hands over his eyes. “She hates my guts, if it’s any consolation. ” He turned off the water.
After seeing the depth of Jessa’s feelings, he didn’t understand why she’d come to him. Hatred and lust were particularly strange bedfellows, though there was no denying the chemistry between them.
When they’d walked down the corridor toward the room tonight, it was like déjà vu. Then the air conditioning had blasted them with cold air, and he was right back there, Jessa standing before him, so skittish he thought she might bolt.
He tugged on his jeans and opened the bathroom door, steam wafting out around him in the cold room. Jessa was already asleep, the book on her chest as if she’d been reading, and he took it and put it on the nightstand.
Despite everything she’d said to him today, he still wanted her, and he allowed himself to wonder what would happen if he woke her up with kisses.
She’d probably punch me in the face.
Moving to the other side of the bed, he took a pillow and a spare blanket from the closet and settled on the floor. He fell asleep listening to the rise and fall of Jessa’s breathing, his mind replaying the familiar tape of the two of them making love.
Imagining what could have happened tonight if she’d been willing.
He wasn’t sure what woke him.
Sitting up, Jax took in the hotel room, his memory quickly returning.
“My baby,” mumbled Jessa.
He stood up and walked to her side of the bed, guilt like a familiar drink he had sipped too often. She was still dreaming of the baby she lost, and he ached for her as he sat on the edge of the bed and lightly stroked her hair.
“You’ll have another baby someday, sweetheart,” he whispered.
She swatted at his hand. “She’s mine!”
He jostled her shoulder. “Jessa, it’s just a dream. Wake up.”
She opened her eyes and stared at him blankly.
“You were dreaming,” he said.
Her brows drew together, her eyes wide open. “You can’t have her. I’m her mother.”
“Okay, you can have her,” he agreed, and Jessa leaned back against the pillows.
“No visibation,” she said.
He smiled at her slurred speech. “Right. No visibation.”
He climbed back under his own covers.
No visitation?
His eyes popped open. She was dreaming of fighting over a child. Not actual history, after all. He rolled onto his side. Jessa seemed to be under a tremendous amount of stress right now, and clearly her mind wasn’t giving her any break.