Chapter 2
Dax
Libby is a knock-out, even more so up close than from across the bar.
Dark hair, beautiful green eyes, not to mention a body to kill.
The problem with most women around here is all they care about is fads and fashion, trends and being skinny. Too skinny.
Not Libby.
She’s real and damn it, looks good. It’s refreshing in all the right ways.
“Let me ask you something,” I say as she stares off at the night sky, trying to decide whether or not she is ready for the date to be over.
I, for one, am not. This is the most fun I have had in a very, very long time.
It’s the first time outside of the walls of my own home I have let myself laugh.
Let me be me. Being a CEO doesn’t allow for that.
Do I feel bad that I’m not her real date?
Not really if I’m being honest.
That joker took off. And that’s very much his loss.
Besides, if it was in fact meant to be a one-night stand, they’re going to disconnect on the app anyway. No explanation needed.
Libby turns to look at me, and I go on before I lose the guts to do so.
“What are you hesitant about? If the date didn’t go well, you would have cut it short.
If you weren’t having a good time and you were ready to go home, you would have been gone by now.
But you’re not. If I had to guess, you are going back and forth trying to decide whether to listen to the devil on one shoulder or the angel on the other. ”
Libby blinks before asking, “And which one are you?”
“I guess that depends on how you see me. But I know how I see you.”
She crosses her arms over her chest, and it occurs to me that she might be cold.
I suddenly wish I had a jacket to offer.
Then she pops out a sassy hip (God those hips…thick like the molasses in the trees just north of here. Sweet too…) and levels me. Or tries to. “Oh really? How do you see me, hmm? As an opportunity? As a notch on a bedpost? An ego boost?”
“You’re beautiful,” I say and she snorts.
“Please.”
“Gorgeous even. You’re also younger than I expected.” I rub the back of my neck with my hand. I don’t know where that came from, but I am fairly certain I am a bit older than her and seeing as how she didn’t turn me away at the table, it’s safe to assume Jax was around my age too.
Libby looks right at me. Oh boy.
“Well, you’re older than I expected.” ".
“Fair shot. Not that I’ve actually told you how old I am.”
“Neither have I,” she retorts with a smug little smile that I’d love to kiss off her heart shaped face. If she lets me.
“29,” I state, and the smile falls to the ground.
“Is it that obvious?”
“What, that you’re gorgeous and vibrant yet levelheaded, and that is really saying something in this day and age?”
“This day and age?” Libby lets out another unapologetically bubbly laugh, and I immediately add it to my list of favorite sounds.
This time I am the one who laughs. “Alright, how old do you think I am? Take a stab at it.”
She taps her pretty lips with a pointed finger and narrows her eyes in speculation, running them up and down my body like an elevator that can’t decide where to go…
before stopping on the second to top floor.
Not the top of my head. That I am proud to say is full of thick dark blonde hair (even if the gray is slowly taking over). I also have a great hairline.
No, Libby is hyper focused on my temples, which in the right lighting shows off silver flecks. Apparently late-night street lighting is the right lighting.
“Forty…” she draws the word out. “...one.”
“That’s cute. You’re sweet. But no.”
Though that is the year I started growing gray hair…for reasons I am not going to mention because that breaks the rules.
“But we’re digressing, Libby. Either you want to spend more time with me, or you don’t.”
“Is it really that simple?” she asks, hugging herself.
“I think so. We’re two people who wanted to be here for a reason. And right now, my reason is I came across a beautiful, sassy, smart and entertaining woman who I’d really like to have another drink with before I go back to my boring, high-rise, demanding job tomorrow.”
Libby stares back at me, studying me closely before letting out an indifferent, “Mm.”
“Someone has told you differently,” I say. “Or at least made you feel differently.”
“That’s below the surface though, isn’t it,” she smiles but it doesn’t reach her eyes.
I don’t like that.
“I guess it is, isn’t it?”
“Alright,” she lets out, and I look down at her.
“Alright?”
“I’ll go with you. For a night cap or whatever you called it.”
I can’t help my eyebrows raising. “Yeah?”
“Yeah. But the rules stand.”
“Yes ma’am,” I smile, extending my elbow out to her.
Libby takes hold of it and follows me down the sidewalk.
Boston streets are compact, filled with everything you could need every mile or so. Which conveniently means you can go to dinner, grab drinks at another place right down the street and then end your night at a Hilton or a Marriott without even moving your car, assuming there’s over-night parking.
We skip the middle bar and go straight for the Hilton, grabbing a drink at the bar there. While we wait for my whiskey and her gin and tonic, I pull my phone out. I have no less than ten texts waiting for me and I swipe to ignore them all for the time being.
Libby’s eyes dart down to my phone then away again and she taps her fingertips on the bar top.
“Sorry,” I say. “Just a couple clicks, and you’ll have my undivided attention.”
“You have the air of a very busy man, I’m sure this little soiree is costing you a lot.”
I smile at her sass, not minding it at all. “Anything anyone has to say to me can wait. Right now, I am booking a room.”
“A room?” she asks.
“Yeah. At the hotel. Here.”
The bartender hands us our drinks and she takes hers with a particular look on her face.
“What’s that look?” I ask, finalizing the booking and setting my phone down and picking up my drink.
“Nothing. I just assumed you already–”
“Booked a hotel in the city I live in before asking my date if she was even interested in a night cap?”
Libby says nothing and I smile.
The bar grows busier by the minute, an odd thing for a hotel bar considering the strip of breweries, pubs and dive bars outside. At one point we are standing face to face and still can’t hear each other.
“How about we make use of that room?” Libby asks. “But the rules still apply.”
“Yes ma’am,” I answer in reference to both things.
We make our way to the top floor, the floor with the suites. We are quiet in the elevator and as we make our way down the hall.
After the door clicks open she steps inside and I follow.
It isn’t until it closes behind us, and the room fills with the sweet, citrusy smell of her that everything suddenly feels real.
I am in a hotel room with a woman who is intriguing.
That’s not…something I have said in a long time.
Internally or otherwise.
I’ve been in rooms with women. Not many but I have.
One-night stands and hookups are not my go to, and when it has happened, there was a lot more alcohol and a lot less witty banter.
Libby is nervous.
She’s not saying it, but I can see it.
I can also tell that she doesn’t do this either.
Whatever this is.
“The view is amazing,” she says, stepping closer to the window overlooking the city.
“It is,” I say but she doesn’t turn around.
“Now that’s a line. Let me guess, you’re looking at me and not out the window.”
Damn.
“Maybe,” I answer, loosening my tie. She turns around and notices, so I stop, holding out the tie. “Don’t worry. I’m just trying to get comfortable. Nothing else implied.”
“Right…” she sneers, and I can’t tell if she is upset or making fun of me.
“Is it okay if I take my shoes off? Or is that breaking the rules. It’s just that they’re new. They’re Van Huesens and they’re rubbing my heels and–”
“Oh my God,” she shakes her head laughing, that laugh, and I grin. Then it fades because rules or not, I can’t do this. Or I can’t not do this.
I want her.
“I want to kiss you.” I say.
It’s a Russian Roulette of a statement.
Because, while she has humored me this long, I still haven’t gotten any green lights.
Most of them have been yellow.
“Okay,” she says. It’s apprehensive. But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t the slightest bit nervous too.
So, I reach down and place my hand on the small of her back.
She’s going to have to stand on her toes, even with her heels on if our mouths are going to reach.
But at the touch of my hand, her body does just that.
She steps up, her back arching and her front pressing against me.
I take her chin between my fingers, and I kiss her.
Her lips are as soft as they looked, her mouth sweet from the gin and muddled berries.
My palm brushes over her cheek and the kiss goes deeper.
I don’t know how much of her I am going to get to taste tonight.
But if this is it, it’s enough.
It’s satiating and beautiful and glorious and more than I’ve been gifted in a long time.
We pull apart and her eyes flutter open.
She is smiling ever so slightly but I can tell she is still unsure.
And I don’t think it’s because of me.
It’s because of someone else.
And that bothers me.
A lot.
“Someone hurt you,” I say and she shakes her head.
“We aren’t supposed to go there.”
“Someone…made you feel like you are less than you are.”
“That’s not the shallow end of the pool, Jax,” she warns but I can’t stop.
“You want to know what I think? I think you want to be here. But you’re scared. Because no one has ever treated you like they want you to be there. Which is insane.”
“This is a hook up,” she reminds me, throwing up walls left and right and only proving my point more. “You’ll say anything to get me in bed with you.”
“Honey, I don’t have a problem getting girls into the bedroom,” I say, and her eyes widen and I hold my hands up.
While I haven’t had the desire to sleep with anyone else since…
her…it’s not that it hasn’t been on the table.
Kai has tried his hardest in the last few years.
“But I’m not thinking about them right now.
I’m thinking about you. And I want you here.
If I’m being honest, I want you. Not because I want to hook up but because I think you’re sexy as hell and frankly, you turn me on.
I have been turned on since I walked up to you at the cantina.
And that’s saying a lot for me because sex is not a priority for me.
And if I had to guess, no one has ever made you feel wanted before.
And because of that, you question whether or not you are desirable.
Which is bullshit because you’re stunning. ”
When I stop talking, the room is quiet other than the fizzling of the air between our mouths.
It’s like a bunch of fireworks just went off on accident and we are just standing here waiting to see if it’s going to happen again.
And then, Libby kisses me.
Hard.
Hungrily.
And the next thing I know, the tie that I was apparently still holding in my hand is flying across the room.