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All of You: Jax & Sky (All In Book 3)

Page 8

by Callie Harper


  With such a grim reality, Jax became my escape, even more than before. Our texting stayed firmly in the friend zone, checking in on each other’s days, sending snapshots of a pretty sunset (me) or a ridiculous bumper sticker (Jax), but the connection started meaning more and more to me with every passing day.

  One night, I felt a mild tremor. Growing up in California, I’d experienced a bunch of earthquakes. But did anyone ever really get used to the feeling of the earth moving? It didn’t cause me to panic, but, still, it felt good to get a text asking how I was doing. Not from my husband, of course.

  Jax: You OK? Did you feel the quake?

  Sky: Yeah, I’m OK. You?

  Jax. Good. Where are you, your apartment?

  Sky: Yes. All tucked into bed.

  Jax: In your jammies?

  Sky: If you call an old T-shirt jammies.

  I looked down at myself and giggled. I definitely was not dressed like any man’s fantasy. The shirt had to be at least six years old. I’d been given it as a freebie from a place where I used to work. It had a hole in the armpit and a stain on the back.

  Jax: I bet you look cute.

  I burst out laughing.

  Sky: Shows what you know. I definitely do not.

  Jax: Text me a photo and I’ll be the judge.

  My heart beat rapidly in my chest. These were definitely the most flirtatious texts we’d exchanged, drawing closer than ever to crossing a line. I bit my lip, trying to figure out what to do.

  He wanted a photo? Part of me wanted to change into a sexy little camisole, do my hair and makeup and strike an alluring pose. But then he could tell I was trying. And I shouldn’t be trying. I didn’t feel married to Mike anymore. We’d barely exchanged two words in the past week. But the fact remained that I was still married to him. I could excuse all of Jax and my texting when it stayed between friends. But once we got into sending each other sexy photos? That was different.

  And maybe it would be better if I sent him a selfie of the real me, my freshly-washed face all blotchy and shiny, my hair in a messy tumble as I wore a legitimately ugly, old T-shirt. Maybe that would scare him off. As much as I hated the thought, I knew it would make things simpler.

  I clicked, forced myself not to stress over how I looked in the photo, and sent it. Soon after, my phone lit up.

  Jax: You’re so beautiful, Sky.

  Tears filled my eyes, my hand up to my mouth. What was this man doing to me? All he saw me in were scrubs, and now I sent him a photo of me in my most dis-assembled, unvarnished state and he thought I was beautiful? It almost felt like too much.

  Sky: Goodnight

  I had to end it. I felt too raw, too vulnerable. He couldn’t have any idea how much his brief messages affected me. But inside, I felt like something was changing. As if nothing would ever be the same again.

  §

  A week later, I was waiting for the bus to head home. I’d gotten there late, or it had left early. Either way, I had a good half hour on my hands. It was already dark. I’d filled in for another aide, letting her go home early while I stayed until nine.

  Jax sent me a text and I let him know what I was up to, so exciting, ha ha. I guess I shouldn’t have been too surprised when he pulled up in his truck. But I felt shocked.

  “Let me give you a ride home.” He got out and walked around to open the passenger side door for me. Holy hell.

  I thanked him. We didn’t say much as we drove through the city streets. I gave him directions and he followed them as we sat so close in the darkness of the cab. I felt too hyper-aware of him to talk, all my fantasies blending with reality. I could feel the heat radiating from his massive body and I breathed him in, like leather and mint and something uniquely male. Being that close to him made me feel drunk.

  I’d changed into a skirt after work, nothing too short but it rode up on my legs as I sat. I knew I should pull it down. But I left it there, the hem hitting me high up on my thighs. His eyes darted over to my legs, noticing, his gaze roving over my skin. I crossed my legs, shifting in my seat. He watched me move.

  As we pulled onto my street, he asked, “Which one’s yours?” His voice had a low, gravelly pitch that made my stomach flip.

  “The gray one.” I pointed to it. “There on the second floor, that’s my bedroom.” I didn’t say our bedroom, as in me and Mike’s. It was my bedroom, where I slept alone and longed for him.

  He parked and turned toward me, stretching a powerful arm along the back of my seat. “All right, then.” He looked into my eyes. I did not want to get out of that truck. I wanted to reach my hand to his strong jaw, lean up, press my lips to his and find out how he tasted. I wanted him to start driving and not stop until we were far, far away and we’d never look back.

  But that was the sort of thing that happened in movies, not real life. And even in movies, that kind of dramatic escape didn’t usually work out too well. The lovers always ended up in a car wreck or a shootout. So I gave him a quick “thanks” and scooted away, flashing a brief wave and a smile as I unlocked the door and hurried inside.

  Up in my bedroom, though, I wasn’t such a good girl. Mike was out again, as usual. I was alone, the bed all to myself.

  I stripped down, a fever running through my body. I needed some sweet relief to the tension I felt building, more and more each day. Sheets pulled aside, I lay down, sliding my fingers along my bare skin. Jax made me so aware of my body, like I was charged through with an electric pulse. My head turned to the side, I closed my eyes so I could see him.

  I pictured his masculine profile as he drove me home, his bicep flexing as he palmed the wheel. Dipping my fingers down where I ached, I stroked my pussy, already so slick with arousal. The way he’d watched my thighs, his gaze returning over and over to my skin. What if he’d dropped his hand, slowly grazed it up my legs, brought it right where I had my fingers now?

  I’d love crying out his name, letting him know how wet he made me, how crazy I felt around him. I wanted him to pull over in his truck, somewhere dark and private so I could straddle him. He’d fill me so deep, thrusting up strong and rough, making me scream and sweat and beg for more. The thought of him cumming inside me, hot and hard and full, sent me over the edge. I convulsed, grabbing a fistful of sheets, crying out into my pillows as I came on my fingers. I could almost hear his voice, him calling out as he came inside me, my name on his breath just like his was on mine.

  6

  Jax

  Griller gave me a nod as I walked past him at my bar. He knew I was the owner, nothing more, nothing less. I forced myself to keep a neutral face and return the nod. But I wanted to bash him in the head.

  The man was sitting there with a skank on his lap, his hand up her skirt as she laughed and pushed her tits into his chest. I’d seen him a couple of times at my bar over the last few weeks with the same girl. It was all I could do to steer clear of them. They weren’t causing a scene, leaving their bill unpaid, or anything else I could legitimately frame as a problem. They weren’t doing anything that was any of my business.

  But it drove me crazy. He had to be a madman to be out cheating on Sky. With a woman like her as his wife, what the hell was he doing out with anyone else, let alone a woman who couldn’t hold a candle to Sky? Her lipstick was too bright. She was trying too hard. She had none of Sky’s easy grace and charm, none of her feminine softness.

  Did Sky have any idea Griller was cheating on her? I knew it wasn’t exactly unheard of. The brothers in motorcycle clubs tended to party hard, but they also seemed to follow an unspoken code. They might go in for a wild night or two, have some fun on the side, but if they were married they didn’t bring a full-on girlfriend around where their old lady might find out. Some of those wives were as tough as their husbands. Even I wouldn’t want to get on their bad side. They seemed to look the other way for the occasional stripper, but when it came to a woman really stepping into their territory and taking on the role of girlfriend? They weren’t having it.

&
nbsp; But Sky didn’t seem the type to get into a pissing match. The more I got to know her, the more I felt certain she wasn’t cut out for a life with Griller. He was a one-dimensional brute. If he was that comfortable being unfaithful to her when she was a 24-year-old scrumptious young thing without any kids, what would the rest of their marriage look like? How would he stand by her side when things got rough, as they inevitably did for patches over a lifetime? I already knew the answer: he wouldn’t.

  The fact was, though, I didn’t even really know the first thing about what Sky thought of her husband, or her marriage. Over the past few months as we’d been getting to know each other, we’d never talked about it. The silence on the subject was becoming deafening.

  We sure hadn’t talked much that night I’d driven her home. Holy hell, that ride in the truck. The sight of her creamy thighs, her skirt riding up as she shifted in her seat, crossing her legs. I’d barely been able to restrain myself, my cock pressing into the zipper of my jeans. It was all I could do to stop my hand from reaching over, grazing a finger up her legs, stroking her right where I fantasized about, her opening up to me, needing me as much as I did her.

  I’d been hard for practically a week afterwards. No amount of jerking off had helped, and believe me, I’d given it my all. Any other time I would have burned off some steam with another woman, but that didn’t even seem to appeal to me anymore. When I’d first opened up the bar, it had felt like a carnival every night, women practically throwing themselves at me.

  But four and a half years into it, I’d grown tired of the same old. The alluring looks, the sexy come-ons, the pick-up lines and flirty moves meant to catch my attention. The first time I’d seen a woman bend over to shoot a pool ball, then glance over to make sure I was watching her ass, I’d been watching. The six-thousandth time? Not so much. And don’t even get me started about our small dance floor. I did not want to catch even one more woman trying to pull off some sexy moves over in the corner, attempting to twerk like she was in a music video.

  I wanted Sky. She was the one I thought about late at night as I went to bed alone. When I woke up the next day, it was Sky on my mind again as I wondered when I’d next get the chance to see her.

  Griller gave his girlfriend a wet, sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. That was the guy who got to touch her instead of me? I forced myself not to glare at them, keeping my gaze focused on the rest of the room as I stood surveying it next to the bar. Zeke and the Reapers wanted Griller dead. I was starting to want the same thing.

  “We’re at 150.” Tommy came to stand next to me. We kept tabs on the number of customers night to night. Over 150 meant a good night. We were having a lot of those lately.

  I nodded. I’d figured we were roughly there. The place had that just-right feel, not packed to the gills, enough breathing room so you could move around, but enough patrons to give it the crackle and energy of a hopping nightspot. I was getting the hang of this bar-owner thing. It would serve me well when I finally told Tommy I was calling it quits. At least with him.

  My phone lit up with a text.

  Sky: How’s the bar tonight?

  I liked hearing from that woman far too much. I loved the feel of her looking out for me, remembering what mattered to me and asking about it. It was a new experience. I was an independent guy, used to being on my own, and I definitely didn’t need anyone to baby me. But it sure felt good when Sky was so thoughtful.

  I’d had a lot of women in my life, never getting too serious, but I hadn’t exactly been living like a monk. Yet this strangely had to be the most intimate I’d felt with a woman in a long time. Maybe ever? And we’d never even kissed.

  I’d almost kissed her that night in my truck. I probably shouldn’t have gone to pick her up in the first place. I knew I was asking for trouble. If I were married, I wouldn’t want a guy like me picking up my wife and driving her home. But if I were married, I wouldn’t let my wife stand alone at night at a bus stop if I could help it. It wasn’t the worst neighborhood where she worked, but it wasn’t the best and anything could happen to a young woman alone in the dark. Plus, I had to admit, I’d swung by to drive her home because I’d really wanted to see her.

  I couldn’t help texting her back a little flirtatiously. After all, I was 25 feet away from her husband making out with another woman.

  Jax: The bar’s busy. We’re hiring. You want to come work with me?

  I could picture Sky serving drinks. With that smile and those curves, people would love her. That made me scowl. I could never watch her get manhandled. My bouncers would have to throw me out of my own bar for starting fights.

  Sky: Sounds fun but I can’t.

  I wanted to ask why. Because Mike wouldn’t want her to? Because it would be complicated to work with me? So much was going unsaid between us it was starting to drive me crazy.

  I wanted to ask what she was wearing. That T-shirt she was in the night she sent me a picture? Fucking killed me. The thing women didn’t understand was how hot they looked all undone. Hair messy and down her back, the thin cotton of the shirt molded to her curves, everything about Sky had screamed sex. And she hadn’t said she was wearing anything else. I liked to think that shirt was all she had on, ending right where I wanted to start.

  I was losing my mind over her. And she felt the charge between us, too. Even when we talked somewhere public, surrounded by others, she’d blush, her cheeks flushing pink. I tried to keep my hands off of her, but every now and then I’d fail. I’d do something harmless, like slide my hand along her lower back, as if she needed assistance walking down the hallway. At my touch, her eyelids would flutter closed for a moment. I’d seen her nipples stiffen, pushing against the cotton of her shirt. Sensing her response, it was all I could do not to pull her somewhere private where I could strip off her shirt, suck and bite and make her moan.

  But I couldn’t send that in a text. Instead, I settled for something tame, bland and utterly unsatisfying.

  Jax: What are you up to tonight?

  Sky: Babysitting a neighbor’s kid. We’re watching The Sound of Music.

  I looked over and saw her husband very possibly grabbing the pussy of another woman. His hand was up her skirt, nowhere to be seen, and she was looking at him with glazed eyes. Meanwhile, his wife was helping out a neighbor and staying home watching the most wholesome of wholesome movies ever made. I shook my head, fists balled at my side. No way could it last between them.

  Sky couldn’t be happy. But did she want to leave him? It was the elephant in the room. The more we didn’t mention it, the more it stood up, huge and loud, demanding to be recognized.

  I wanted to keep texting. But if I let myself do what I wanted, I knew where it would lead. I’d managed to put the brakes on myself so far. But smoke was coming off them it took so much effort. Sooner or later they were going to wear out.

  Jax: Enjoy your night

  Sky: You have a good one too

  That was how we left it, simple and platonic. But I continued to think about her all night, every woman I saw falling short in comparison. I knew exactly how I wanted Sky to enjoy her night. I wanted to feel her shaking and quivering underneath me as I drove her wild. But I’d take more than one night. I wouldn’t let her come up for air for days, drowning her in pure pleasure.

  §

  The next week I didn’t even see her when I went to visit Ace. He and I hung out, watched a show, chatted about nothing, then took a stroll around the courtyard. I kept looking around the whole time, an eye on the door while sitting on the couch, scanning the entrances while we walked. I felt like a heel doing it, but I couldn’t stop myself. Spending time with Ace was plenty entertaining, and that wasn’t even the right word for it. The man didn’t need to entertain. He’d done so much for me, showing me what it meant to be family. Yet, there I was, restless, unable to simply enjoy spending time with him.

  “You looking for Sky?” he finally asked, seeming to already know the answer.

  “No, no,” I p
rotested too much, then added, “Why? Do you know where she is?”

  Ace chuckled. “I’ve known you all your life. You shouldn’t bother trying to bullshit me. I know you’re looking for Sky. And no, I do not know where she is today.”

  I shook my head, frustrated with myself. This thing kept building inside me, between me and Sky, and it was turning me into an idiot.

  “Don’t worry,” Ace continued. “She likes you.”

  I wanted to ask, “How do you know? Did she tell you?” But I was 27, about to turn 28. I was no longer in middle school, no matter how much it sometimes felt that way. “I’ve got time for a game of Gin Rummy before I leave. You up for it? Or are you scared to lose?”

  Ace took the bait, of course. The man never turned down a dare when it came to cards. And he was a kind man as well as insightful. He knew when to push, and when to let the sleeping dog lie. Probably because he knew someday soon, that dog was about to wake up big time.

  That night at my house, I sat outside on my back deck drinking a beer. It was a clear night, all the stars standing out bright in the sky. I could stop by the bar. I could call up a friend or a woman for company.

  But I didn’t. I sat out there and imagined her coming to me. Out of the darkness, Sky’s figure would emerge. She’d be shy and unsure, but I’d open my arms, pressing her against me. No words necessary, I’d bring her inside. And then I’d touch and taste, strip her naked and savor every inch, make her cum and cum again, shaking and screaming out my name.

 

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