CHAPTER 21
JULIET
Jax had turned on me.
He’d morphed into a loose cannon, and I saw the same fierce temper I’d seen on Jared. The same temper I’d seen on my father. But strangely, neither of them had come to mind.
The moment he pulled the knife, all I thought about was how to get him back. I didn’t think about running. I was scared for him, not of him.
All I saw was Jax. What had happened to him, and how was I going to catch him when he fell?
I walked up the stairs, smiling at the sound of dishes clanking and a pan crashing to the floor.
Someone was in a rush.
I liked him. Man, did I like him!
I remembered Tate’s dad sitting both of us down to talk about the birds and bees. We were fourteen or fifteen, and someone at school had taught us what a blow job was. Mr. Brandt deemed it high time to give us the talk, even though I wasn’t his daughter and it wasn’t his call to educate me. He’d said when my mother emerged from 1958 she could come and kick his butt. Until then …
Anyway, he gave us three irrefutible pieces of advice about the male species:
1. Boys will lie, cheat, and steal to get into your pants. A man will stand the test of time. Make him wait, and you’ll see which one he is.
2. They will try to tell you that it feels better without a condom. You just tell me where they live.
3. And relationships are supposed to make your life better. You don’t drag each other down. You hold each other up.
When we’re little, we think true love is Romeo and Juliet, together in life or together in death. They couldn’t stand not to have each other, and when you’re young it’s romantic to think of suicide as the answer. Better not to live at all, etc.
When you grow up, you realize that that’s bullshit. I mean, who really wins there, right?
Jax was happy to see me happy. I didn’t need him to survive, but I liked him. He made my life better. Happier. He also challenged me to grow.
Coming to the second floor and turning for his bedroom, I glanced behind me, noticing the padlock on the office door.
I walked into his bedroom, still uneasy about everything he’d done in my life without my knowledge. And everything he was doing. He was mistaken if he thought he was going to continue to keep an eye on me.
And the people who’d hurt him and what he’d done to them? I knew I should be nervous or even scared that he was capable of violence, but I knew he didn’t rush to react. The only thing I was worried about was how far Jax had to be pushed to do it. And would he do it again if he were pushed hard enough?
I didn’t fear being on the receiving end, but I didn’t want to worry about him in trouble, either.
I stopped in the middle of the bedroom, taking a minute to look at my surroundings. The only other time I’d been in here was the night he’d gotten in the fight on the front lawn. It had been dark and I hadn’t wasted time exploring. Now, as I looked around, my eyes fluttered at the warmth pooling in my stomach and farther down.
His bedroom.
Everything was dark. I loved how the cherrywood furniture made the black bedding and curtains seem warm. And with the drapes drawn and a small lamp lighting the desk in the corner, the whole room glowed like an old chapel, lush and elegant with its carved furniture but cozy and secluded as if it were some room lost in the middle of a thousand other rooms buried deep in a mansion, never to be discovered.
I felt as though if we closed the door, I’d never want to leave. I’d never want to be found.
Jax had a king-size bed, and I instantly sucked in a breath at the thoughts of him. There. With me. For hours.
Running my hand down his dresser, I savored the cool, smooth wood beneath my fingertips, reminding me of him. His skin, so fluid but so hard under my fingers, and I closed my eyes as the desire swamped me.
My chest rose and fell hard, and I reached up, running a hand over one of my breasts. My core started pulsating, and I touched the hard flesh of my nipple.
Jax.
Warmth hit my back, and I opened my mouth to speak but was cut off.
“Don’t open your eyes.”
I could hear the smile in his voice.
He was behind me, his breath warm on my neck. His musk scent made me want to bury my nose in his skin and crush my chest to his. I kept my hand on my breast, but my head started floating away from me.
“I’d rather be touching you.” I smiled, keeping my eyes closed.
“You still like me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good,” he replied calmly. “I like you, too.”
“I know.”
I felt his laugh on my shoulder and leaned my head back against him as I reached behind me and took his hands, placing them on my breasts.
He instantly cupped them and started moving them in circles.
“You’re so incredible,” he said, nipping at my earlobe. “I look at you, and I can’t think about anything else beyond having you.”
And he took a hand off my breast and grabbed hold between my legs.
“Oh, my God,” I groaned, excited at the possessive feel of his hand there. Touching me. Taking it. “Jax,” I gasped.
“Fucking mine,” he whispered in my ear.
“Yes.” I licked my dry lips, panting.
His hand got more demanding, urging my whole body backward flush with his as he rubbed me hard and kneaded my breast.
“I have lots of fantasies about you, Juliet.”
I heard the edge to his voice. The one that told me he was trying not to lose control.
“Lots of different ways I want to see your body move,” he said. “And I want to do lots of it tonight.”