Chapter 9
Nine
When I wake up Sunday, I’m in far better shape than yesterday, when I nursed a vicious hangover and struggled with murky, pervasive thoughts. Images of fighting with Remy still clog my brain…as does the reason for it.
I squeeze toothpaste onto my brush and debate going to Terry’s pool party today. I probably shouldn’t after everything that went down…but fuck if the details don’t remain sketchy.
My bandaged hand catches my gaze. Did Jacqui wrap it?
I blacked out or passed out, still clueless about what happened after laying into my best friend.
When I woke up from that disaster, everyone was gone, and Remy and I haven’t spoken since.
I finish brushing and remove the bandage, inspecting the damage.
My knuckles are sore, still thrashed, but I’ve seen worse.
I bury myself with tasks, filling up the hours, trying to keep my thoughts clear.
The house looks like a disaster zone since I haven’t dealt with it yet, and everything reeks of stale cigarette smoke and warm beer.
After opening the windows and sliding glass doors, I start collecting trash, wiping shit down, cleaning the sticky floors, vacuuming.
Once that’s finished, I change out sheets and towels and start a load of laundry. I even wash the Mustang inside and out.
The party whispers to me through it all. Jacqui in a bikini. Jacqui slicked with water. Jacqui flipping that long fucking hair off her shoulders.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Her name rolls around my brain, off my tongue. Her name’s already pretty but I want to call her something personal. That’s all mine. It’s kind of my thing to create nicknames for the people that matter in my life. Shit…that’s a neon fucking sign I care about her.
“Jacqueline. Jacqui. Jac.” Sounds like a dude. “Jacqs.” Hmm. Nice. But spelled simpler.
Jax.
My mouth kicks up. That suits her.
I owe her an apology. And Remy. Don’t I?
“Fuck,” I mutter, pacing in the living room.
“Fuck. Fuck.” More pacing.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.” My hand cuffs the back of my neck.
FUCK IT.
I grab my keys, the metal scraping against the small, mission style table in the foyer, and split before I can talk sense into myself.
Driving to Terry’s, the sunset fades, dark hues blanketing the sky.
Maybe she’s already gone, then I can kick back with a beer, and it won’t even be an issue.
Except it doesn’t have to be one now. I’m a goddamn adult.
I like her. As a friend. A whole fucking lot. That’s all this needs to stay.
Terry’s street is littered with cars, the party going full force, but I find a spot and park. And there’s no missing the lemon-colored VW Jacqui drives sitting there like a flashing caution light.
Music floods my ears when I push through the front door. The foyer’s empty but laughter echoes from the kitchen. I need to hit the bathroom and veer that way.
I round the corner and fuck me. There stands Jacqui, wearing a yellow string bikini that leaves most of her luscious body on full display—and what’s hidden could easily be revealed by a simple tug from my fingers.
My gaze inhales all of it before meeting hers.
That alone nearly flays me open, her expression is so… vulnerable.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
“What’s wrong?” she asks.
You. That bikini. My resolve. I close my eyes and scrape a hand through my hair. “Nothing.”
“You okay?”
“Yeah.” Compose yourself, asshole.
“I wondered if you were coming.” She steps toward me, and I flinch in retreat.
What the hell am I doing? “I had shit to do.”
Her eyes drift to my hand. “Hope your house wasn’t too trashed. I tried to clean up before splitting yesterday but didn’t want to wake you.”
My eyes slide down her body and snap back up. How can I not look? Jesus. “Right…thanks. Most of these slobs don’t care. Assholes.”
Her shoulder lifts and drops. “Men.”
I laugh softly, averting my gaze so I don’t keep staring like a creep. “So, I need to use the head…”
“Gotcha.”
She shifts out of the way, her expression turning to hurt, and I stride past feeling like the biggest dick on the planet. I’ve got to pull my shit together—and fast.
I splash cold water on my nape at the bathroom sink.
Stealing a glance in the mirror, my eyes reflect all my turmoil.
I’m at the breaking point, unsure why I’m fighting it so much.
Fifty arguments rage in my head. The pros, the cons.
I fucking like her. I don’t want to hurt her.
And I don’t want her to hurt me. Hard to tell which voice shouts the loudest. It’s all true, and yet none of it matters.
Cracking my neck, steeling myself, I go in search of Jax. If for no other reason than to apologize.
She’s on a lounge chair poolside and Leland is practically drooling on her. That’s no surprise. Having known him since we were kids, I know exactly how he operates. When I hear his pathetic and borderline rude flirting, it’s enough to make my jaw tic.
“Jacqui.” My voice is low and damn near a demand.
Her head swivels, gaze latching on mine.
“Can I talk to you for a minute?” I say, just a tad softer.
“Homey…why you gotta do me like that?” Leland gripes. “I was just getting somewhere.”
My grin spreads slowly, tinged with a menacing edge. No, motherfucker, you weren’t.
Jacqui leaps to her feet and Leland grumbles, “I’m snagging your digits before you leave.”
Her silence speaks volumes.
I lead the way, ushering her inside and into the small library down the hall.
The door snicks closed, dulling everything except faint laughter and the music echoing from the backyard.
It’s dark, the only light filtering in from a streetlamp, but my eyes adjust quickly.
The more in focus she becomes, the more her proximity throws me off balance. Especially in that fucking bikini.
“Jax,” I murmur, the nickname slipping out. Her eyes flare and my pulse pounds, echoing in my ears. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?” Her voice is barely above a whisper.
“I’ve tried to stay away from you, but…” I scoff, my head falling back, grappling for words. When I meet her eyes, mine sear hers like a brand. Moving one step, my hand captures her beautiful face. “Why do you have to be so fucking gorgeous?”
She appears stunned.
“I’m done fighting,” I admit.
“Why are you fighting it?”
“Not sure I can give you what you deserve.” It sounds weak, but it’s the truth. My gaze shifts to her lips, desperate to kiss her. “I’m not looking for a commitment. Or complicated. But damn I want you.”
She stares at my mouth, quiet, probably wondering if she should heed my warning. I’m torn about whether I want her to. I’m not good for her. This is selfish. Reckless. But at this moment, I’ve never wanted anything as much as I want to kiss Jacqui Hall.
“I want you too.”
Thank fuck. My hand cups her face, registering the softness against my calloused palm as my lips graze hers.
She whimpers and hell if I don’t groan. Because goddamn.
It’s a lightning bolt that zings me chest to groin.
My hunger for her unleashes and I pull her flush, wanting her closer.
My dick hardens unapologetically between us as I devour this mouth I’ve dreamed about.
I grip the back of her head, angling her for better access, and for a second, I’m lost in her long, gorgeous hair.
It’s soft, like everything about her, including these lips.
Kissing her, holding her—my imagination did not do it justice. Her lips fit perfectly with mine and her scent is intoxicating—fresh and pure with a hit of citrus. This girl is sunshine in a fucking bottle. I love how she’s clinging to me like she never wants to let go.
My tongue roves along the seam of her lips, and it’s electrifying when they open and our tongues wind together.
I swallow her whimpers, and I don’t know what the hell sounds I’m making.
They’re animalistic, and that’s damn close to how I feel—primal.
I want to explore every facet of this woman, find out what turns her on, and fucking bathe in it.
Strawberry lingers from whatever she drank tonight, dissolving on my tongue.
I’m spellbound, an inferno raging throughout my entire system.
Blood may have rushed to my dick, but my pulse thrums wild and loud, the sound almost deafening as our mouths collide with intensity and something else I can’t even define.
My hands rove greedily over her shape, down her back, along her hips, back to her ass.
So much fucking skin, so soft and smooth, so many dips and contours I want to traverse.
Her fingers roam over my back and shoulders, and it’s heavenly.
I haven’t been touched in a while, and between that and her little moans, my heart practically batters out of my chest. My lips travel down her neck, kissing, sucking, marking her.
I can’t get over how fucking silky she is everywhere.
And receptive. When her fingers lace into my hair, I hum against her skin and seek her mouth again.
Gripping her hips, I fuse us together, my erection pressed between us, weeping for her.
Our bodies grind, hunting for friction, more moans spilling between hoarse breaths.
I’m ready to rip off her bikini and bury myself in her—my mouth, my tongue, my dick—and every signal she’s giving seems to be in the same headspace, but… I need to slow this roll.
Jacqui is different. She’s not just a fuck. Far from it. And I don’t want to blow this. With exacting restraint, I pry my lips from hers and rest my forehead against hers. Our heavy breaths punctuate the silence.
Pulling back, I seek her gaze. “Fucking hell, Jax. You’re driving me insane. And that bikini? That’s not even playing fair.”
Her smile radiates in the dark, lighting up her face and drawing my attention to her thoroughly kissed lips. Lips I’m not done with yet.
“You’re one to talk.”
I’m not sure exactly what she means. I’m driving her insane?
She caresses my face. “I’ve been waiting fifty lifetimes for you to kiss me like that.”
Her words, her touch, and her raspberry lips cast a mesmerizing spell, momentarily drowning the sliver of guilt hanging in the background, reminding me I’m a piece of shit.
Fuck, she’s beautiful. Sexy. A goddess. “I want to keep you in here all night doing everything I’ve imagined to your perfect body. ”
She audibly swallows. “Sounds good to me.”
That’s about as green light as it gets. Restraint, dickhead. I slip my hand in hers, my thumb caressing her skin. “But this isn’t the time or place.”
She flinches enough for me to notice. Does she think I’m rejecting her?
“Rain check?” she asks.
Smiling in answer, I trace her jaw gently with my knuckles. “Baby, we’re just getting started.”
I palm the back of her neck and draw her closer, kissing her tenderly. At first…before we’re going at it again, inhaling each other, probing, seeking, yearning. This chick is like a drug, and I have a hunch I could overdose and still never get my fill.
Forcing us apart with a frustrated groan, I adjust the painful situation in my Levi’s. I just told her now isn’t the time or place—it isn’t, I remind myself—but I can’t keep kissing her or I’ll lose what little semblance of control I’m pretending to have.
A pleased look crosses her face. “Hot tub?” she suggests.
“Only if you’re sitting next to me.” It comes out husky and low, and Jax shudders.
Ten minutes later, we climb into the circular redwood tub and sink into the steaming water. Bubbles cover our legs as I wedge mine against hers, my hand stroking her thigh. Now that I’ve touched her, there’s no going back. I couldn’t if I tried.