8. Jax #3
“Then I guess you can be here.” She leans in and gets close to my jawline. “You sure don’t smell stinky. In fact, you smell really, really good.” She inhales deeply and lets out a little moan.
She slides her palms up my chest and wraps her arms around my neck. She lifts up on her tiptoes, and I stiffen when I feel her nose sliding up and down against my neck. “What cologne is this because, God, it’s turning me on.”
My brain is short circuiting while my dick is coming to life.
I’m turning Kiley on? I thought she hated me.
This is dangerous. Way too dangerous. I can’t want Kiley in any way, shape or form.
This is Killian’s daughter—I can’t think about taking her in the bathroom and burying myself deep inside of her.
What I need to do is not react at all, remove her off my body, and keep my hands to myself.
She plasters herself against me and instead of doing the right thing by creating some space between us, my arms instinctively wrap around her, holding her close.
Too close, but it feels natural because she fits perfectly in my arms. She drags her nose from my neck up over my jawline, and I tilt my head down so that we’re now nose-to-nose.
Her lips part, and I can smell the fruity concoction that was her last drink.
My hands flatten against her lower back, and I slide them down into her back pockets before gently pulling her pelvis against my raging hard on.
She gasps and her breathing accelerates.
“Kiss me, Jax,” she demands, and warning bells are ringing in my head to not do it, despite me wanting to so fucking badly.
“You’re drunk.”
She smirks. “Maybe, but I can feel that you want to.”
She starts moving against me, and I groan. “That would be a very bad idea, Kiley.”
“You’re a bad boy. Why don’t you make me bad for tonight?”
Fuck. Me.
Images of Kiley in all my favorite sexual positions start flashing before my eyes. I feel her fingers slide through my hair, and my will is hanging on by a thread. I watch her eyelids slowly close as our breaths intermingle, and all rational thoughts of why I should stop this vanish into thin air.
“Hey! We said no kissing stinky boys!”
I snap my head up just as Kiley is pulled out of my arms by the bride, who almost takes both herself and Kiley down in her haste to grab her.
“I’m seeing the naughty side of Kiley O’Shea and I like it!” Drunk bride cackles, and I have to agree with her. She turns her attention back to me and squints. “You’re pretty hot. Maybe I should let Kiley break the rules and kiss you so she can take one for the team.”
“You will absolutely not let Kiley kiss him.” Another bridesmaid steps in and holds Kiley’s hand. “Don’t you recognize who this is?” she asks drunk bride, who shakes her head.
“That’s Jax Morrow, the hockey player. Kiley hates him.”
Hearing her confirm that Kiley hates me is like being doused with an ice-cold bucket of water.
And I don’t like it.
I don’t want Kiley to hate me. I love her dad, and I want her and I to have a civil relationship. Maybe it can even evolve to a brother/sister relationship.
Fat chance of that happening since brothers shouldn’t want to fuck their sisters in the way you want to fuck Kiley.
I’m so screwed.
“Yo.” I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see Harry standing right beside me. “Is that Kiley O’Shea?” He looks her up and down, and I can see where his mind is going. “Damn she looks hot.”
“Watch it,” I warn, and he gives me a questioning look. “That’s Killian’s daughter.”
“Yeah, and you almost sucked her face off. Try explaining that one to him and Keegan.”
“Nothing happened. We were just standing really close so I could hear what she was saying.”
Harry gives me a dubious look. “I’m not blind, Jax. Everyone was watching you two, waiting for your tongue to scope out her mouth.”
I scoff. “We didn’t even kiss.”
“They should have hot, hate sex,” drunk bride interjects, and Harry laughs in response.
“I think that’s the best thing I’ve heard all night. What do you think, Jax?” He gives me a knowing look, and I slap his abs.
“I want to go home,” Kiley states; it seems the fun is over for her. The alcohol is now racing through her bloodstream at full force, and she looks like she’s about to either throw up or pass out.
“Do you need help getting her home… um, what’s your name?” I ask, feeling awkward that she knows all about me and I know nothing about her.
“Audrey, and no, we got this.” She uses her other free hand to grab drunk bride. “Lyra, it’s time to go.”
“Bye-bye hottie hockey players,” Lyra slurs before Audrey pulls her away from us to leave.
I watch their retreating backs, and I sharply inhale when Kiley looks over her shoulder at me. She gives me a crooked smile before they disappear out of my line of vision.
“Well, that’s going to be an interesting conversation with sober Kiley back in Chicago.” Harry slaps me on the back, and I give him a murderous look. “C’mon, Romeo, it’s almost curfew time.”
We order a ride to take us back to the hotel and make it back right as the clock strikes midnight. I take a cold shower, get into bed and toss and turn all night thinking about a green-eyed vixen.