29. Dylan
DYLAN
The moment I step out of class and see Jax leaning against the opposite wall, arms crossed and an easy smirk playing at his lips, I roll my eyes.
“This is stupid,” I tell him, adjusting the strap of my bag over my shoulder.
“Surely you have something better to be doing than waiting for me?” It’s only been a couple of days and I’m already over having the guys wait on me.
It can’t be fun for them, and not having a moment to myself throughout the day is grating on my nerves.
He shrugs, pushing off the wall and falling into step beside me as we leave the building and move out into the crisp autumn day.
It’s early afternoon, and I stare up at the trees whose leaves have turned a vibrant red and orange as I pull up the zipper of my jacket to combat the cold chill in the air.
“Can’t think of anything better I could be doing than making sure you’re safe,” Jax says easily.
I know he doesn’t mean anything by it, but his words sting nonetheless.
Like this is just an obligation, another shift in the babysitting rotation.
Which is the crux of the problem, because it niggles at me that the only reason any of them are spending time with me is because they feel obligated to. Because Ethan has told them to.
My stomach knots, a frown slipping over my face before I hurriedly wipe it blank. “I don’t need you guys hanging around because you think you have to. If you don’t want to be here, then don’t.” I flick my fingers over our surroundings in a go, be free motion.
Instead of accepting my dismissal, Jax stops in his tracks, uncaring that we are in the middle of a busy path and he is forcing students to divert around us.
He snatches my wrist, forcing me to stop and face him.
His brown eyes darken, any trace of amusement vanishing.
“You think I’m here because I have to be?
” That gaze holds mine, rich and intense, his hand coming to rest possessively on the side of my throat as he brings his face close to mine.
“Dylan, I’m here because I want to be. Because I need to be.
Because your safety matters to me. You matter to me. ”
My breath catches. Everything about Jax is deep, raw…all or nothing. He’s not the kind of guy to do something half-assed. When he sets his sights on something, he’s all in.
I don’t know how to respond, so I don’t. I just hold his gaze, my pulse hammering beneath his touch.
His fingers squeeze against my skin, a reflex, a need.
“You’re important to me, Menace. More important than you can even imagine.
More important than I even realized until you walked into the house the other night, battered and bruised and barely conscious, scaring the absolute shit out of me.
” His fingers stroke across my skin, soft and coaxing.
Comforting. “I don’t give a shit what you’ve got going on with Griffin.
Or with the others. All I want is you. Nothing is going to change that. ”
He doesn’t give me the chance to process his words, never mind respond, before he leans in and kisses me.
Right there, in the middle of campus, for anyone to see.
It’s not soft or tentative— it’s a public claiming.
A declaration. His lips move against mine with a confidence that leaves me dizzy, and for a moment, I forget everything.
Forget the people walking past, forget the bruises that still mark my skin, forget the mess of emotions tangling inside me.
Jax pulls back, his breath warm against my lips. “So, what now?” I murmur, my voice unsteady.
His smirk returns, this time edged with something wicked. “How long until your next class?”
“I’ve got a couple of hours.”
“That should be enough time.”
Sliding his fingers between mine, he tugs me along the path behind him. “Enough time for what?” I call after him, lengthening my stride to keep up with his long legs.
Turning to meet my gaze, he winks. “You’ll see.”
Increasing his pace, I practically have to jog to keep up with him as he leads me through campus and toward the hockey arena. It’s empty at this time of day, the quiet stretching around us as we slip inside.
“Jax, what?—”
“Nope. No questions,” he orders, pushing me toward the locker room. “You keep a swimsuit in your locker, right?”
“Yeah?”
“Damn,” he teases with a smirk. “There goes any ideas about skinny dipping.”
“What?” I’m thoroughly confused about what’s happening.
Shaking his head, he nudges me toward my locker. “Just get changed.”
Shaking my head, I do as he says, stripping down and pulling on my black swimsuit. When I turn around, I freeze. All of the saliva in my mouth dries up.
Jax is shirtless, wearing only a pair of swimming trunks that hang low on his hips.
My gaze trails over his broad shoulders, the defined cut of his abs, and the way his muscles flex as he runs a hand through his hair.
My stomach flips, heat curling low as my eyes travel south, to the powerful thighs and sharp V-line disappearing beneath his waistband.
Holy hotcakes . He is a fucking Adonis.
He catches me staring and smirks. “See something you like?”
I force my face into a scowl, snapping my gaze to his. “Obnoxiousness is not a pretty quality.”
His grin only broadens, a twinkle sparking in his eyes. “And yet, you find it attractive.”
“Pretty sure that’s not what has my attention right now.”
He swaggers closer with all the confidence of a man who knows exactly how hot he is. It should be disgusting, a total turn-off, but his confidence is sexy as hell.
“Well, you better find something else to focus on or we’re not leaving this locker room before your next class.”
“Mm. You make that sound like a bad thing.”
“Definitely not,” he disagrees, flicking a strand of hair off my face. “But I have something else in mind for right now.”
I huff, but before I can verbalize my protest, he takes my hand again and leads me down the hall and into a room lined with hot and cold therapy tubs. He flips a switch, filling one with steaming water.
“This will help with muscle recovery,” he explains. “Improve your mobility and ease the tension you’re carrying.”
I don’t argue. A warm bath sounds like heaven.
Moving toward the tub, I throw my leg over the side and step into the hot water.
A sigh slips from my lips as I sink into the warm heat.
Immediately, I can feel it melting the stiffness from my body, and I let my head tip back, eyes closing as Jax joins me.
A comforting silence settles between us, the only sound the faint hum of the heater and occasional ripple as Jax shifts in the water. I allow myself to fall into the soothing comfort, to focus on relaxing my muscles and letting the heat of the water work its magic.
All the while, the weight of Jax’s gaze presses into me, warm and unwavering.
Eventually, I peel my eyes open. He didn’t turn on the bright overhead lights when we came in, and his brown eyes are molten in the dim light, their depths swirling with something unreadable.
They trace over my face, lingering on my cheekbones, my lips, the bruises still staining my skin.
“What?” I ask, feeling somewhat self-conscious.
His voice is quiet, but heavy with meaning. “You.”
I scoff, gesturing at my beat-up face. “Right. I’m a fucking masterpiece.”
Jax doesn’t smile. Doesn’t look away as he shifts closer in the water.
“You are.” His hand lifts, fingers ghosting over a particularly dark mark near my jaw.
“These don’t diminish you. They don’t take away from who you are.
If anything, they show how goddamn strong you are.
I saw it that first day in the locker room and again when you marched into our house like you owned the place.
” He shakes his head, a fond smile playing at the corners of his lips.
“You faced down an entire team of guys who were determined to prove you wrong, and you basically told us all to fuck off. That takes balls.”
I snort-laugh, the sound cutting off as he inches closer. The water shifts between us, swishing as he moves to crouch in front of me, so close that his thighs brush mine as he brackets my legs. His hands land just above my knees, rough and reassuring as he squeezes them before sliding them higher.
His gaze remains steadfast on mine as his sure, confident hands reach my hips, fingers curling around my waist and holding tight. Surging forward, he lifts himself out of the water until he’s hovering over me.
I follow the path of a droplet as it slides down his chest before dripping onto my skin, right beneath my clavicle. It ignites a spark of heat that spreads outward, and when I glance up, I find Jax staring at the same spot. Desire has his pupils blown wide before he ducks his head.
When his lips meet my skin, it knocks the air from my lungs. His tongue flicks out to catch the droplet, and I gasp, one hand coming to rest on his broad shoulder while the other slides into the soft, short strands of his hair. “Oh,” I moan, tilting my head to grant him access as he licks higher.
My blood heats with every stroke, every rough drag of his tongue over my sensitive skin.
His tongue is nothing short of explosive.
My grip on him tightens, fingernails digging into his scalp as though fearful he might retreat and leave me hungry for more.
We’ve been dancing around this flame for so long now, and I’m sick of dampening it.
I want to add gasoline to the fire and feel every singe, to burn as it blazes.
His hands slide up my sides, light and careful over my bruises.
He skims the sides of my breasts, his touch teasing, before running his palms over my shoulders and up my neck.
I sink lower in the water, spreading my legs as far as he’ll let me.
It’s a blatant invitation, one I hope he will accept because I am fucking dying for his touch where I need it most.
“Jax,” I murmur. A prayer. A plea.