Jax

by Cristin Harber

  Her sensitive skin clenched against Jax. He never slowed, and his strong tongue stroked, his fingers thrust. Seven arched and angled, squeezing her breasts as a sheen of sweat broke out at the back of her neck.

  Arousal like this had never been so consuming, as though she were breathing fire from within. She rocked as he rubbed her clit and spread her legs wider. His fingers drifted to the tight, exposed hole. Her mind screamed please as her hips rocked, and her pussy rejoiced in the pulsing heat of his powerful lips and tongue.

  "More. Jax, I need you."

  She wasn't supposed to call the shots, but she didn't care. Another second without him was too long.

  He sat up as she hummed on the edge, and the crinkle of a condom tearing open made her blood boil with lust.

  He untied the hair and boot binding then unzipped her boots, slid them off, and stretched her angled leg. "You're good?"

  "Yes," she said, hearing her arousal.

  "Good." He reached for the ends of the hair tie, then he took her wrists that had fallen slack from her breasts, formed a column with her forearms, and quickly wrapped the length secure, binding her hands and hair. "Still good?"

  "God, yes."

  He seated himself between her legs, his hot-steeled tip nudging at her entrance. "Fuck, you're beautiful, Seven."

  "I needed this. So much," she whispered, tears in her eyes.

  Jax thrust into her as he dropped close to her ear. "Good girl."

  Every inch of his thick shaft impaled her, and she prayed that brilliant pain and pressure, the delicious stretching burn and growl and groan in her ear would never end. Her thighs wrapped around his backside.

  Jax pistoned into her, giving her nothing but animalistic thrusts and grunts that promised she would never be the same. His kisses mapped her neck. Sweet. Biting. Licking. Loving. Marking. And Seven bucked to meet his stride, wanting to wrap her arms around him, struggling for that hold, gasping as the sting in her scalp, and crying in thanks that he had given her that. She wanted this—to live, to feel, to be needed. This was everything and had been nothing she even knew could exist.

  "Please," Seven crooned in his ear with each powerful fuck coming again and again. Her orgasm teetered on the edge of so perfect it would hurt.

  "Come with me," Jax's primal growl ordered.

  "Yeah," she cried, falling over the edge as he tensed.

  His arms wrapped Seven tight, protected from the world as she pulsed around him, grinding for more, rocking her clit against him. Jax strained, deep inside her, nuzzling her neck and panting her name.

  Their thundering breaths and pulsing bodies collapsed into loose limbs, and he reached up, not moving his face that was buried in her neck, and untied her wrists, loosening the bindings in her hair.

  Seven shrugged her hands free so she could drape them over his back in a hug. Together, they stayed a sweat-tangled mix of arms and legs, seesawing heartbeats, and unaimed kisses.

  Jax finally rolled off and tucked her close. "What's the verdict?"

  She snorted. "Thumbs-up."

  "Anything else?"

  "I'm…" Seven cuddled to his side. "Really hungry."

  He laughed. "It was a workout. Room service?"

  There was so much to see and do in life. What else had she missed? "Maybe I should get out more?"

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Seven's stomach grumbled, and she slapped her hands over it as Jax propped himself up with a pillow. He moved the empty champagne bottle to the nightstand and hooked his arm around her, pulling her to his chest.

  "I can't remember the last time I had food. Day drinking, sex, and champagne is going to give me a hangover if I don't put something in my tummy."

  Jax kissed the top of her head. Everything about the night had been mind-bending and sweet. "Get dressed. We'll get some grub." But he rolled on top of her instead of off the bed and kissed her as though he had no intention of going to dinner. "Come on, princess. Let's get you some food."

  He bounded off the bed, and she smiled as his tight ass walked away. Jax turned. "Are you coming, or do you plan to starve to death there?"

  It had been so long since anyone had taken care of her—if anyone ever had, to be honest—and she was worried that was why her emotions seemed to run so deep with him. But if anything, Seven had always been pragmatic to the point of boring when it came to lust and love. She knew what Jax had said about long-term, and she had no intention of pushing him on it. But they had a connection that was special, and no matter what happened tonight, tomorrow, next week, or next month, Seven knew all the way to her soul that Jax would be someone she would remember when she was old and gray. Or maybe just old; no telling what color her hair would be. "I really like this, Jax. You, I really like you." She shrugged her shoulders and crawled out of bed. "Just want to make sure that you're completely aware of where my head is at."

  She almost steeled herself for the inevitable response that she should guard her heart and that he wasn't a made-for-forever kind of guy. But he winked and turned, heading back to where they had undressed, and said, "The feeling is mutual."

  She laughed as she trailed him. "Now I know you drank way more champagne than me."

  He pulled on his underwear and pants, making a face that would've melted her clothes right off if she had bothered to put them on yet, but he didn't deny that it was the alcohol talking. And that was okay. As long as she was being real with him and herself, everything would be fine.

  They quickly dressed and headed out. It took just a moment to head down the hall, call the elevator, and get to the lobby. Jax had his arm around her as they walked across the main hall, and it felt good to be part of a duo. She and Johnny had never had that. They'd never had a spark. They'd always had a "supposed to." They were supposed to date, supposed to be friends, supposed to get married, supposed to go home together.

  This was exciting and magnetic. Jax's fingers danced on her shoulder, squeezing, and she leaned into him.

  "What are you feeling? There's everything, and it's open twenty-four hours a day. Asian buffet, 1950s diner, takeout pizza place à la New York City, and somewhere in here, I heard there was really good Indian food."

  "Oh, that. Indian food."

  "All right. Tikka Masala, here we come."

  They wandered down one way before he came to an abrupt stop. "This is your first time in Vegas. We're not going to eat at the hotel. Change of plans. I know a great Indian place. Let's go."

  They changed direction and were out the front door and under neon lights after a few moments. Jax was excited, and he knew where he was going.

  "Slow down a little bit," she said. "The champagne and my equilibrium plus the high heels could be a recipe for disaster if we go too much faster."

  "All right, all right," he jokingly complained.

  As Seven slowed them down, the conversation wandered from his jobs to her coffee shop, then from her mom and kids to his family. She couldn't tell if there was something he was holding back or if he was distracted by the duty of finding her Indian food at midnight in Vegas, but when it came to who he was closest to or the topic of his family, he shifted right back to Nolan and Bianca and her mom. Which was fine because that was her favorite thing to talk about.

  "Seven, I hate to break it to you, but we're never gonna get there if you don't go faster."

  "Jax, I hate to break it to you, but we're going to go to the hospital with a broken ankle if you make me run in these boots."

  The look on his face implied a challenge, and before she could register what his thoughts might be, he scooped her into his arms and made his way down the block.

  Funny thing about Vegas, nobody seemed to notice or mind that there was a huge, muscly man walking down the block, carrying a woman with pink hair, who was wearing a leather skirt and shirt with badass boots. Barely anyone turned his head. But true to Jax's word, they covered significantly more ground at a much faster speed than they had been going even before she'd said they needed to slo
w down.

  Finally, they turned a corner and—

  "Motherfucker."

  The Indian restaurant had their lights off and a big sign across the front door. Closed for renovations. Sorry.

  Jax put Seven down, and she buckled over, laughing. He was so upset, and she was so hungry. They were both buzzed, and it was the funniest thing she could possibly have thought about.

  "This is funny?"

  She laughed even harder, barely able to catch her breath, and he started to laugh too. It wasn't any laugh that she had ever heard before from him, but a deep chuckle that rumbled from his chest. She leaned against him as he draped his arm around her. Tears streamed down her face, and it wasn't nearly as funny as their laughing would insinuate. This had everything to do with the champagne, but it needed to happen.

  Finally, they took breaths and pulled it together. "What are we gonna do?" she asked.

  "No idea. But I can't let you starve to death. It took a lot of time to find you."

  Seven simply squeezed his hand. There wasn't much to say to that. The only other thing she could try to do was describe how her heart had learned jumping jacks since her Jax had arrived.

  A small gaggle of people walked by with cake in plastic cups and disposable forks. Now a food truck that sold desserts was something she could totally get into. "Hey, where did you guys get that?"

  A drunk guy tripped as he pointed. "We volunteered."

  "Like cake sampling? Ohhhh, Jax! I'm a pastry connoisseur." She leaned into him. "Tasting cakes is my calling. This is fate!"

  "From Indian food to dessert." He tossed a hand in the air to wave thanks to the group of incoherent cake eaters. "We're off to find her fate. I mean her cake."

  "Because I'm starving."

  "Let's go." He scooped her back up, and they took off in search of the cake tasting.

  One block over, they turned a corner, and Seven pointed. "There! Over there!" A man in a tuxedo stood next to a sign that read FREE CAKE. "Hooray, we're here!"

  "Hoorays are reserved for athletic events, babe."

  She scoffed. "You've never seen me around free cake."

  Laughing, they were ushered in—and stopped, gaping at the sign above the one proclaiming free cake.

  WELCOME TO THE CHAPEL OF LOVE.

  "Ever heard of 'no such thing as a free lunch'?" Jax mumbled.

  "I'm sorry?" A tuxedo man stepped forward, confused.

  He wasn't the only one, and Jax clarified, "We're only here for the cake."

  "Witnesses get cake, champagne, and Jell-O shooters as part of our appreciation for their time. Take as much as you'd like as a memento, or you can get hitched."

  Seven's snort-laugh was answer enough, but she tacked on, "I'm just really hungry."

  Tuxedo Man eyed them clinging together. "Sure you are. Through the double doors."

  Off they went for cake. They walked straight down the hall and ran into an Elvis impersonator. Or was this Prince? Clearly, there was costume confusion.

  "Hello, hello! Do we have a happy couple here?" He rolled a sequined hip. "I think you two are the sweetest, albeit most colorful, couple I've seen walk through the door all night. I see a lot of love."

  "Actually"—Seven pointed to her eyebrow—"that's my sparkle you've noticed."

  "She's hungry." Jax dipped his thumb her way. "Maybe hangry. It might be best to step aside."

  Their impersonating roadblock didn't move his boots an inch. "Come back tomorrow when you take off the blinders. Keep walking through that door, but first, here are"—he popped behind the desk, his caped sleeves flying behind him, then opened a small refrigerator to reveal a frat party's dream come true—"your Jell-O shooters."

  Jax took the first one offered. "This is the size of a mug."

  An eye roll worthy of a Vegas stage nearly knocked over the impersonator. "Oh, come on now, my friend. A big, burly man like you needs a shot like that."

  "All right." Jax grumble-laughed. "But what's your excuse for her?"

  The sequins glimmered and shined as the man studied Seven. "She has to put up with your surliness." He pushed the mug-sized shooter into Seven's hand. "Now keep going. Dum, dum, dee, dum. The wedding chapel waits for no one."

  They lingered and watched as another group walked in and Elvis-Prince started the spiel again. Shots were handed out, and he sent them packing also.

  "Elvis didn't suggest they should get married," Jax pointed out.

  "That's because we're awesome."

  "Yeah, we are." He lifted his mug, and they clinked Jell-O shooters then downed the shots.

  "Go!" Elvis-Prince popped up again. "It's time for you to move on."

  "Jeez." Seven leaned under Jax's arm as they moved into a new room. Unexpectedly, it looked like a church, which should have been expected, but the exceptions were the Vegas-attired attendees, waitresses with tiny bottles of champagne and straws, a line of couples waiting to tie the knot, and tables with beautifully decorated mini cakes, cupcakes, small pastries, and petit fours.

  "This is the best night ever," she whispered, beelining to the closest petit four.

  Jax looked down. "You're the easiest date I've ever had."

  "Best, Jax. Get the terminology right." In another life, maybe she'd been a wedding planner. She popped a petit four in his mouth, and he choked on the unexpected incoming treat. "Sorry." Seven doubled over, giggling. "Okay, if I don't kill you accidentally, I'm the best date ever."

  He finished chewing the cookie then swiped a piece of cake from a stand and smashed it into her mouth. "We'll call that even. And the best date ever."

  She couldn't stop laughing and wiped it away. "Eww! I just inhaled icing!"

  He kissed her, cake and all, and everything slowed. The crunch of other people disappeared. His thumb slid over her cheek, and she loved how he smiled against her lips. Jax smiling when they kissed made her cheeks tingle with pinpricks of happiness.

  He pulled back slowly. "You're the best-tasting date too."

  Seven blinked, feeling the swell of the room rush back as reality tugged her from the dreamland of sugar and kisses. "Jax…"

  "Yeah, babe."

  "You're right in front of me, and—I can't stop thinking about you. I just wanted to tell you that."

  He hooked an arm around her neck, pulling Seven's sticky cheek to his chest, and she listened as he took a deep breath. "Hell, Seven." His hand stroked her back amid the chapel's chaos. "I always knew you were an adventure. I didn't know where you'd take me. Maybe the best things are the ones that show up without planning—"

  "More cake?" A waitress in a sparkly dress held out napkins. "Champagne? Have a seat, please." Then she ushered them into a tiny pew.

  The soul-sharing moment was shattered, and Seven peeled away from Jax, instantly missing their intimate conversation. "Yes, please."

  The woman reached for a nearby tray with tiny champagne bottles and straws as Jax guided Seven into a row. They were handed more cake and alcohol than they knew what to do with, but the pews came with drink holders and pop-up snack stands.

  "Look at this." Seven played with the spring-loaded wedding-bell-shaped cake holders that popped out from the pew in front of them. "Someone thought of everything."

  "Cheers, princess." Jax held up his bottle to hers, and they clinked, kissed, ate cake, and kissed again.

  Couple after couple were married in front of them, and after the fourth or fifth one, they developed hand signals to covertly decide the over-under of the couple's lifelong likelihood.

  A new, glittery waitress appeared with two pink bubbling shot glasses. "Would you two want a sweet-nothings shooter? It matches your hair."

  Well, of course they wanted shots that matched her hair.

  Jax held his up. "To Vegas."

  "Vegas." Seven did the same. "The best weekend ever."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  The sunlight seemed as if it made noise, and the air conditioner's hum vibrated like a jackhammer. Seven burrowed her face i
nto the cool feather pillow, tugging the comforter over her head as though layers of cotton were enough to shield her from the headache-inducing racket. That plus her grossly sweet dry mouth were swift reminders as to why she didn't enjoy overindulging. Ugh. She couldn't remember how the tail end of the evening had gone.

  She pulled at the covers again, tucking them around her pulsing skull, when her fingers caught in her hair. A hair barrette or tie dug into her scalp, pinching, but as she grappled to pull out the culprit, Seven realized it was a headband. She tugged at the tangled mess, threading her fingers into her hair and—froze.

  What the heck…

  Confusion morphed into panic as the tips of her fingers caressed the headband's netting and flipped the short length down to reveal white tulle. "Oh no."

  Seven tore the headband, not caring about how her hair knotted on its spines, then lurched back as she threw the mini wedding veil away.

  Her hands shook, and she gasped at the gold band around her left ring finger. "Oh God. Oh no. Oh nooo."

  With a quick glance, Seven confirmed that she didn't have any clothes on and that Jax was next to her. Peeling the covers back—holy shit—neither did he.

  "Are you awake?" Seven hissed loud enough to wake their neighbors.

  He didn't budge. She leaned over him and pulled at the edge of the pillow under which his hands were shoved. The left one wore a matching ring.

  Seven jumped back to her side of the bed, and the night started to come back in flashes. Cake and champagne, the wedding chapel, and so many people wearing glitter and sequins. "Jax, wake up."

  He groaned, mumbled, and rolled face down with a handful of covers. She grabbed them back. "Wake up," she hissed, sitting up in bed and giving him a kick in the leg. "You have got to wake up right now."

  "Jesus fucking Christ." He yanked the pillow off his head and rubbed a hand over his stubbled chin. "Stop yelling."

  "We have a problem," she snapped.

  "Yeah. We're both awake. And hungover."