Jax

by Cristin Harber

"If I did?" He brushed the hair off her neck, teasing the back of her hairline with his fingers. No one could see how he knotted the back of her hair around his fingers and pulled softly, but her head tilted back, and her lips parted.

  Just as covertly as he'd pulled her hair, he adjusted the top of her sleeve for her and let his hand run down her arm, savoring the shiver bumps that erupted under his touch.

  "I don't doubt your dirty mind always has plans."

  "The dirtiest."

  She came closer, until the way they stood was inexcusable for anything other than heading to bed. The steady beat of his heart quickened, and his mouth watered to kiss her.

  "Jax, I—"

  "Seven?" The gruff interruption of a man's voice reached through the crowd and ruined the heat building between them.

  They both turned to see someone Jax couldn't identify but who was clearly Mayhem as he pushed through the crowd. "You seen Johnny or Hawke lately?"

  Seven's quickstep back came with a laugh. "Johnny just left."

  "Got it. Thanks, babe." The other man left as quickly as he'd come.

  Jax wanted none of the distance Seven had put between them. "Back to our planning?"

  "Is that what you want?"

  Damn it. Whenever she got an interruption, she went cold. What the fuck did that mean? "Are you as worked up as I am?" He inched forward again.

  She glanced away. "You're assuming a lot, my friend."

  He put two fingers under her chin and directed her to face him. "Tell me you're not turned on."

  "I'm not—"

  He shook his head, not removing his hand from her chin. "I get that Johnny's not here so you don't need me to lean against, and you were pulled out of your moment."

  "That wasn't like that, and you know it."

  "Whatever your reasons are, that's cool. But don't deny that your nipples are hard and your pussy's aching for me."

  "Jax." Her eyes went wide. "Why would I admit to that right now?"

  He rubbed his thumb over her chin then let go. "Because it's the truth."

  Her eyes narrowed. "I would've helped you into that meeting if you'd asked me."

  Jax smiled. "I know. Then again, direct requests never work with you."

  She held his gaze. "Give me one now."

  "Spend the night with me." Easy. It came off his tongue before he thought about what he should say.

  Seven closed the distance, and their stomachs touched. Then the crowded bar faded away as she pushed up, hooking her arms around his neck, and dragging her lips to his ear. "There was never any doubt where I'd be tonight."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Jax's confident grip on Seven's hand made her insides melt. She never felt the need to be protected and doted on. But when he took her hand in his, walking her out of the bar and down the busy hotel corridor, the hairs on her arms jumped as if they wanted to reach for him. Her head swam, and she couldn't blame that on a little buzz from the drinks. All she'd had were a few sips of a soda.

  Tonight would be a test. Mayhem wouldn't allow a random person in the meetup tonight. She was there, and Jax would be her guest, and he'd be allowed there only if it looked real, personal. And it could. After all, they'd spent the last few years flirting. Seven could live a lifetime in the space of one of their kisses. Even if they were playing a part, she and Jax acted real.

  Because, for her, it felt real, as though it were more than a random hookup, more than a guy she shouldn't have slept with because his attitude always had acid. She'd seen the real him lately, certainly in her kitchen before he'd brought her breakfast in bed.

  That was the scariest part. He didn't do what she expected him to—run away, be the asshole. Then again, he hadn't addressed whatever this was morphing into. They hadn't defined their situations, but this felt leap years beyond a hookup.

  Seven should give Jax a thank you and a high five. With the right hum of a kiss or the breeze of his lips, she was sure she would climax, and that was new in her hierarchy of personal priorities. "Where are we going?"

  His lust-darkened eyes dropped to her face. "I don't know."

  Hawke might have a problem that she'd left her post, but he hadn't said she needed to stay put, just keep an ear to the ground and watch out for Johnny. He hadn't said for how long, either. "Sounds good to me."

  Jax stopped abruptly. The hungry, powerful stride taking them to somewhere private paused, and she had no idea why.

  "What's wrong?"

  "Why didn't Johnny give you bigger shit for bringing me tonight?"

  Jax was a smart cookie. She didn't have to bring him there, and the truth was, she didn't want to be away from him. There was no reason to bring him at all. But that wasn't what he wanted to know or likely would ever care about. "Some people don't trust you. I'm supposed to keep an eye on you."

  "Some people being Johnny."

  She nodded.

  "Lots of people have you keeping eyes on others."

  "True."

  "Why would they do that?"

  "Because I'm trustworthy, and I do what I do well."

  Jax inched closer as people stepped around them. They stood in the center of a hallway, semi-blocking traffic, but he didn't seem to notice how they impeded the flow. "And what is that? Look out for the best interest of Mayhem?" Jax asked slowly.

  "Yes."

  "If some don't think that I am, why would you tell me at all?"

  "Because I know you, and no one knows how much I've shared with you."

  His eyes tightened their focus. "What does this MC mean to you?" He looked away but came back, inquisitive, not as judgmental as she would've expected. "They're criminal. Guns. Drugs. Who the hell knows what else?"

  Seven bit her lip, not knowing why she couldn't immediately bat away his question. "Because it's my family. Sometimes you hate the people you love, and you love the people you hate. You disagree with everything they are, and you do everything you can to change it. Mayhem's in my DNA as much as walking away from them was my destiny."

  "Do you know how young you are to say things that are…" Jax shook his head and took her hand, starting them again.

  "No, I don't."

  He slowed but didn't stop.

  "I've been on my own. Then I had to take care of others. My kids? They're not mine… even if they are mine. My dad left us to raise Mayhem, not children, and his first and only true love was the MC, not my mom." Seven stopped. "I don't know how old I am. Unless my best friend reminds me. Because age is just a number I left long ago."

  He stopped again, and again, they blocked foot traffic in the busy hall. He didn't say anything, just stared. But not because she was crazy or talked as though she were boastful. She felt more as though he were proud or impressed, and it warmed her heart—and turned her on in a way she didn't expect.

  "You have everything under control, don't you?" he finally asked.

  Ha, he didn't have a clue. "I wish."

  His face brightened. "I want to show you something."

  They started walking again. "At least we have a plan."

  "A dirty one." He squeezed her hand, and suddenly, they couldn't get there soon enough. "You still game?"

  "Absolutely."

  "Good." His arm brushed against hers, and every time it did, she thought about when he'd wrapped it around her, how it had felt when they were alone and lost their clothes. It was as if they suddenly breathed different air.

  When Jax acted like this, asked questions, it erased the moments when she was certain that before was a one-time explosion of lust and cravings.

  "I want to show you something, Seven. In here." Jax veered them off course as if he knew where they were, and they sidestepped the throngs of tourists shuffling the hall until he reached for the unmarked door. He punched a code on a nondescript pad and twisted the knob.

  "Where are—"

  Jax slapped her hand away as she reached for the light switch. The dim room was open, and on one side, a glass walk overlooked the main casino.
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  He put his hands on her hips and guided her. "Two-way mirror. They can't see us with the lights down."

  Seven's mind rushed. How did he know this? But then, why question anything about Titan and access?

  Jax pressed behind her, hands on her hip bones to hold her in place. The pressure of his thick erection, separated by the layers of clothes, made her dizzy with need. Her breath hitched knowing how easily he could inch the frilly skirt up then slide her underwear to the side.

  Jax leaned close, letting his warm breath tease the back of her neck. "Seven?"

  "Mmhh?"

  His fingers gripped tighter, and she arched, melting at the whisk of his slow teases curling along her sensitive skin.

  "Are you wet, princess?" Jax nuzzled behind her ear lobe.

  "Yes." Her pussy contracted, desperately needing and silently rejoicing because he was so close.

  His strong fingers rubbed from her hip bones to her clothing-covered mound and back. "Are you?"

  When a man made from stone said sweet things… She nodded. "Very."

  "Everyone out there wants what you'll have." Jax slid down the front of her skirt and played with the hem of her skirt.

  "Jax." She swayed her backside against him.

  His gravely chuckle rumbled against her ear. "Look at them. Wanting…"

  She couldn't see their want. Hers had nearly blinded her. Seven nuzzled her cheek against his lips, finding little satisfaction from the lingering kisses that left her biting her lip.

  "Keep watching them." He let go of her skirt, rubbing her legs—squeezing then feathering a slight touch—as he worked up, giving a chaotic tornado of sensations. Harsh. Sweet. Easy. Rough. Until his fingers found the edge of her panties. "They're searching." Jax yanked them down her thighs, making her gasp at the quick move and the cool air rushing against her damp skin. "Look at them all, wanting."

  "I want. I don't care about them. You."

  He stroked her folds, finally putting pressure on her clit piercings, and Seven bucked back against him, moaning for him to never stop. But he did, and the aftereffects of the bar were short-lived, but the piercing on her hood made her pulse. "I can't take this."

  "Yes, you can." His fingers gentled back, methodically stroking until her hips swayed and lips begged, then he teased her clitoris again while kissing the small of her neck.

  "Shh—God." She couldn't talk… or think.

  Jax dragged his teeth against her skin until sensation overload made her incoherent—he pulled back. "Are you still watching?"

  "No," Seven whined.

  His fingers slid inside her. "For what you have."

  Seven's muscles loosened. Hungry bliss bled into her veins. "Jax…"

  He drove into her deep, faster. "God, I missed this tight cunt."

  "Please, please, be inside me."

  "Fucking hell," he muttered as the belt clinked and condom wrapper tore. "Wasn't my plan."

  "Screw your plans."

  A moment later, sheathed and urging her legs apart, Jax nuzzled the head of his cock against her as she watched the casino floor. He thrust and stole her mind. Again, spearing her with a blessed intrusion of thick heat, Jax's quick breath stayed at her ear as she cried for more, begging for deeper.

  Seven couldn't swallow; her eyes couldn't stay open. "Come with me. I need you to."

  A strong arm wrapped around her chest, and his low growl made her quiver. He worked like a machine and pistoned like a steamroller—so fluid, she could've floated, and so perfect, Jax made her climb higher and higher.

  "Yes, Jax." The orgasm exploded, and Seven pushed back, needing desperately to hold on to something besides the wall. But she clung to it, riding the wave, the climatic high.

  He pinned her to the mirror, straining his climax, muttering a thousand indistinguishable words that sent her mind flying as high as her orgasm until she melted into a limp Jax-held mess.

  When her eyelashes fluttered open, she zeroed her focus on a woman on the floor who acted as though she'd won big. Nothing that woman had was as good as Jax.

  "It's what they all want," Seven whispered. "And we have it."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  The smoky hotel suite had the who's who of the US's most wanted gangs. One quick phone call, and Jax would be rolling in the dough of a dozen reward offers. But Boss Man would kick his ass, and then he would have to deal with Deacon Lanes, who likely had each gang member in his most recent call log, before he was ready. There was something super screwed up when the Feds in one branch of government were in bed with the guys that the Feds in another department were trying to nail.

  Seven slipped her hand into the back pocket of his jeans as they walked through the room filled with men hopped up and on edge. It was quite the situation when rival gangs pulled their act together and presented for a meeting like this, which was why it seemed as though only a representative or two from a few of Hawke's top picks were even invited.

  Everyone wore their insignias, and their women were plastered on. A few girls that Seven had said were Mayhem pussy, who they trusted, played the role of bartender, server, or whatever else was needed.

  For their part and for most of the women, they were dressed like he would expect them to be at a wild night at the Mayhem compound or an ordinary night in Vegas. Short leather skirts, boots that inched high, and tattoos in every direction. Lipsticked and eyelashed women who'd spent years in the sun on the backs of Harleys. Seductresses who'd perfected their stances by running clubs.

  There was a lot of testosterone in the room and a lot of drinking. Men thought themselves hardasses, badasses, whether they were or weren't. Seven told him there would be a few other guests like him, but he didn't press her as to who they were.

  "Beers?" a woman no younger than Seven offered, though she looked years older in how life had treated her.

  "Yeah, two'd be good," Jax said.

  The server thanked him and greeted Seven then rushed off after Seven pointed at where she wanted to sit. Thankfully, she chose a corner so Jax could keep good tabs on who came and went out the front door.

  "Jax." Hawke ambled out of the hallway. A fat joint burned between his thumb and forefinger, and he rolled it slowly between his fingers before offering to him then Seven.

  "Hey, man." Jax held his hand up, and Seven gave a quick refusal. "Thanks for the festivities."

  "Any friend of Seven's…" Hawke raised the joint as if it were a beer and took a slow hit, finally pulling it back and passing it to another guy walking by. Dark, thick curls of smoke drifted from his mouth before he blew it out. "Relax. Tonight's for friends."

  "Eclectic friends." Jax's eyes darted to the black man walking with the Latino man wearing a leather cut.

  "Eh, come tomorrow. They'll hate each other again." Hawke lifted a shoulder. "There are a few old guards from around the country that get the weight of leading a club. Some places are a DMZ."

  "You're saying I shouldn't be strapped."

  Hawke laughed. "Well, how about this? A well-armed demilitarized zone."

  "I'm not carrying," Seven cut in.

  "Honey, that's because you're pretty pussy, and no one would let Cullen Blackburn's daughter be harmed. No one."

  She gave a sarcastic bat of her eyelashes.

  "There's a princess for you." Hawke laughed again as the joint made its way back to him.

  "Two beers." The girl pushed two longnecks into the conversation without entering herself.

  "Thanks," they said in unison as Hawke wandered.

  Jax took his beer and his woman and headed toward the vantage point he wanted. Easing onto the couch, Seven slipped onto his knee instead of sitting next to him and leaned back, draping her legs over his. They fit in, with her like that, but hell, he didn't care. Mayhem might've gone from the worst gig to best job in the speed of a day.

  "Why is it," she purred against his ear, "that you wanted in here to begin with?"

  Jax casually drank his beer and positioned her better,
running his hand into her hair and bringing her ear to his mouth. "See the players in action. Like a study guide for test day."

  "You don't think I could've told you everything you needed to know?"

  "I thought you could've told me some." He lined their faces up. "I didn't know how much of the outside world you were schooled in."

  "Really?"

  He shrugged. "And I didn't know how careful they'd be of you."

  Her eyebrow crooked. "Meaning?"

  "No one in this room would allow you to get hurt. Not Mayhem. Not the Brotherhood. The Niners. No one."

  "I'm just lucky, I guess."

  "Don't BS with me, princess."

  "Ding, ding. You called it."

  Jax chewed on the inside of his cheek, but all the tossing of ideas didn't compute what she meant. "Explain."

  "You know my father was a founding member."

  He nodded. "Heard something about that."

  "Yeah, I bet." She snort-laughed. "I'll bet you've got all kinds of recon on us."

  "Surprisingly, not a lot of detail on that."

  Seven hummed, almost sounding as though she were taunting him.

  "We missed something?" He rubbed his hand up her spine. The short leather top tied around her neck and exposed her back, covering only her front. From her hairline and shoulders straight to her skirt, Seven's skin was exposed. The high-necked, ultra-conservative leather shirt surprised him at first glance—but when she'd turned around, Jax had been floored. He liked both looks—the barely there tease and taunt of hidden curves, and then a torturous reminder that her shirt was tied on around her neck. One flick of a knife's blade, and leather covering would fall away.

  "Titan only missed something if they were interested in me."

  Let him count the ways she had his attention—business, personal, clothed, naked. He could keep going. "Consider me interested."

  Seven smiled, but not with her mouth, rather her eyes. They reacted before her lips curled. "Good to know."

  Was it possible three boring words could make his dick hard?

  Her head tipped closer. "I mentioned my dad's first love was the MC."

  Jax nodded.

  "He made many friends as he built what became Mayhem, and he didn't care what people looked like, what they rode, who they fucked. He did many favors for many people. They're indebted to me."