Twenty-six
Dawn was roughly an hour or so away when everyone cleared out of Jax’s townhome. Teresa and crew were still planning to tour Philly tomorrow, but as much as I wanted to spend time with them, it wasn’t smart and Detective Anders had looked like he’d lose his shit if I did go traipsing through the city.
Which really sucked, because I missed my friends, and there was more than one moment when I wondered if this would be my life now, not doing things because of this threat that really was hanging over my head.
Something had to give. I didn’t know what, but I wasn’t sure how much longer I could continue like this without losing my shit.
However, Jax had come up with a great idea—a late breakfast or early lunch at the townhouse with everyone before they headed into the city and then most likely headed back to West Virginia. So I would get to see them . . . from behind four walls.
It was better than nothing.
I’d just changed into my usual sleepwear when I was finally, after hours, alone with Jax. He stood just inside the bedroom door and his expression was on lockdown, jaw tense and lips pressed into a firm line.
A sudden nervousness rose inside me, mixing with tendrils of unease. With everything that had happened, I hadn’t forgotten that we’d kind of gotten into an argument that was unresolved, but it hadn’t been on the forefront of my thoughts.
It now raced there, elbowing all the other stuff out of the way. It didn’t matter that the stuff with Aimee was no way near as important as everything else.
The intensity carved into Jax’s striking face held me immobile as he all but stalked forward, stopping directly in front of me. Our gazes locked, and I swallowed hard as he lifted a hand. Instead of touching my left cheek, something I’d been slowly getting used to, the very tips of his fingers brushed over my lower right jaw and then to the corner of my cut lip.
“Does it hurt?” he asked.
I gave a little shake of my head. “No. Not really.”
The hue of his eyes darkened as he dropped his hand. “It shouldn’t have happened.”
Well, I wasn’t going to argue with that.
He thrust his hand through his hair. “I didn’t even notice that you’d left. You’d had a gun to your back and I was right there, not that far away, and didn’t even notice. I should’ve known.”
“Whoa. Wait a second. This—none of this—is your fault, Jax. You were busy at the bar and I’m glad you didn’t see it happening,” I told him. “You could’ve gotten hurt.”
Disbelief clouded his expression. “I could’ve gotten hurt? You got hurt, Calla. The fucker hit you, and you’re worried about me?”
“Well, yeah . . . that and an entire bar full of people he’d threatened to shoot.” As soon as I said those words I could tell it didn’t matter. If anything, it ticked him off more. Moving away, I plopped down on the bed. “I’m okay, Jax. Seriously.”
“You had to bite a person. You had your mouth on some fucker’s skin and bit down to defend yourself. How in the fuck does that make you okay?”
“When you put it that way? I’m not sure.”
His jaw worked as he walked forward and knelt in front of me. “I promised you that you wouldn’t get hurt.”
“Jax—”
“And you did.” His hands curled around the back of my knees and he tugged them apart as he leaned in. He was staring at my arm, and my gaze followed his. There was a bruise there, too. “I’m not okay with that. Fucks with my head—just the thought of what if. I’ve been down that road before.”
I didn’t get what he was saying at first, and when I did, I shook my head. “This isn’t like with your sister.”
Jax said nothing.
“You know that, right? I’m not your responsibility. Not like that,” I insisted. “And neither was Jena.”
He looked away, jaw clenched.
“Even if you were—”
“Calla,” he warned.
I ignored him. “Even if you were home, Jax, there would’ve been no what-ifs involved.”
“Just . . . just drop it.”
“No.” I was not backing down from this. “She would’ve overdosed if you were in the room next to her. You being there wouldn’t have changed the outcome. One way or another, she would’ve found a way.”
His gaze swung back to mine. “How do you know that?”
“Because I lived through it, too.” I held his gaze. “There was nothing I could do to alter Mom’s path and I tried. I tried a million times. You know deep down it would’ve been the same with your sister.”
Several moments passed, and then a deep sigh shuddered out of him. “I don’t know. Calla. That’s . . . yeah, that’s hard to really accept.”
“I know.” Oh God, did I ever know, and I also knew there wasn’t much I could say to really change whatever guilt Jax harbored. That was something that would take a lot of time, and he’d have to find that in himself.
“I think you need to stay here for a few days,” he said after a moment.
My brows pinched. “I’m already staying here, aren’t I?”
“That’s not what I meant, babe.” His fingers brushed over the finger marks above my elbow. “Stay out of the bar until . . . well, until this dies down.”
“What?” I pulled my arm away, and his chin lifted, eyes back to mine. “I’m not hiding in this townhouse or anywhere. And it’s not because I don’t realize what’s going on, but I need the money.”
His hands curled around the back of my knees again. “Calla . . .”
“I seriously need the money. Over a hundred thousand in debt, Jax. I’m not making a crap ton of money, but I’m making something. I can’t afford to chill out in the Jax Relocation Program.”
His lips twitched “Jax Relocation Program?”
My eyes narrowed.
He chuckled and some, not all, of the anger eased out of his expression. “I like the sound of this program.”
“I’m sure you do,” I retorted dryly. “I just . . . I need to be more careful, more aware of my surroundings and stuff. I mean, I’m sure Mo didn’t look too harmless in the bar. I need to pay more attention.”
“So did I,” he agreed firmly.
I started to deny it but figured there was no point. Some of the hardness was still in his face and I remembered the near-murderous fury in his eyes when we’d been at the bar.
As I watched him, something shifted in his eyes. The color was still dark, but it was warmer, hotter. It was late. Or early. Depending on how one looked at it. And there was a lot we needed to talk about, namely Aimee with an i and two e’s and his “you got to trust me” solution to her feeling him up like he was tenderized meat.
Yeah, we really needed to talk about that.
But as he stared up at me I could tell what he was thinking—I could feel what he was thinking. And after almost being kidnapped and after finally opening up to Teresa and Avery, the very last thing I wanted to do at four something in the morning was talk about Aimee, her wandering hands, and how that made me want to turn into a rabid kangaroo and kick her head off her shoulders.
I did need to talk to him. It was serious, and he was right, there would be some miles between us in the fall, and I needed to trust him.
And I did.
Sort of.
My brain sighed, literally sighed.
But then my body did a happy sigh when Jax’s hands moved up my thighs, reaching the hem of my shorts. One side of his lips quirked up in that sexy half grin.
Okay.
We could talk later.
Not giving my brain a chance to argue that that was a bad idea and I was tossing girl power or whatever crap to the side for some bow-chick-a-wow, I grabbed the sides of his shirt and tugged up. Wordlessly, Jax backed off and lifted his arms. In no time, he was shirtless and my hands were on his hard, rough chest, and once again I wondered how I’d gone so long without knowing what a man’s chest—Jax’s chest—felt like under my fingers.
I lowered my head, and Jax went the distance, meeting me before I was even halfway to him, and the kiss was sweet, it was careful and gentle. The tender sweep of his lips reached right down into my chest and squeezed my heart.
God, I was so gone for him.
His hands slid up my sides, catching my shirt and then he had it off me. I was bare from the waist up and the cool air washed over my heated skin as Jax rose, placing his hands on my shoulders. He kissed the corner of my lip softly and then his mouth trailed over the bruised skin of my jaw as he pushed me onto my back. Crisp hairs from his chest teased over my chest as his mouth glided down my throat. My hands settled on his arms, feeling the muscles flex in his biceps as he held himself up.
Then his lips closed over the tip of my breast, and my body sparked alive. My back arched and my mouth opened in a soft whimper.
“You’re so sensitive,” he said against my breast. “Makes getting you turned on and ready so easy.”
He was right. “Sorry?”
Jax chuckled. “Only you would apologize for that.” Then he flicked his tongue over the hardened nub, and my fingernails dug into his skin. He shifted his weight to one arm and then his hand got involved with my other breast, and it was Calla happy land, especially when I could feel him hard and pressing against my thigh.