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

by Callie Harper

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  I lasted three days before I texted her. Then I gave in.

  Jax: How’re you doing?

  It was a Tuesday night. I’d just left her husband at my bar. He looked like he was settling in for the night with his club buddies and his girlfriend. That meant Sky wouldn’t be with him. If she wasn’t working, she might be back at her apartment, by herself.

  I sat in the parking lot, straddling my bike, waiting for her reply. It came quick.

  Sky: Good, thanks

  Jax: What are you up to tonight?

  Sky: Not much, just hanging out

  Jax: At your apartment?

  Sky: Yup

  My bike wound its way down the city streets as if it had a mind of its own. Outside her apartment, I stopped, engine idling. I remembered the night when I’d dropped her off, the two of us sitting close in the cab of my truck. She’d pointed out which window was her bedroom, the second story one with the fire escape next to it. Her light was on. And Griller wasn’t there.

  I parked my bike down the street. That’s what people did when they were up to no good. They covered their tracks, making sure there weren’t any clues to their whereabouts. I hated myself for doing it, but I’d reached a boiling point. I had to see her.

  I rang the doorbell for the second-floor unit. It took a while to get any response. The building was old, at least for Southern California, and it didn’t have an intercom system. But after a minute, someone came to the door.

  “Who is it?” I hadn’t heard her voice in weeks. It sounded like music.

  “Hey, Sky. It’s Jax.”

  “Jax?” She sounded surprised, the volume and pitch of her voice raised.

  “Yeah, hope it’s OK—” I lost my train of thought when she opened the door. Her hair cascaded down in waves, tousled and free. She looked glowing, like she’d just been exercising, rosy and pink and slightly out of breath. Her short shorts made her legs look a mile long and the spaghetti-strap top she was wearing didn’t leave much to the imagination, with a scooped neckline and no bra. My mouth watered to have her so close, standing there before me looking up with wide eyes.

  I cleared my throat, remembering I had been saying something. “Hope it’s OK I stopped by. I was in the neighborhood.” Bullshit. I lived twenty minutes away and the route between the bar and my place went in the opposite direction. She didn’t know that, though.

  “Sure, um, that’s fine.” She seemed flustered to see me, stumbling slightly as she opened the door wider to let me in. I brought my hand to her arm, steadying her. The brief contact, my palm wrapped around her smooth, warm skin, felt charged like a live wire. Moving ahead, she led me upstairs and, yes, I checked out her ass. Show me a straight man alive who could have resisted, and I’d prove to you he had no pulse.

  The apartment door opened into the kitchen. It was small and clean. It didn’t seem right that the kitchen at my place was twice the size when I barely ever used it. I bet Sky would have a good time in it. I bet I would, too, if she were there. I’d probably keep her from doing much baking, though.

  “So, this is the kitchen!” She gestured around, laughing at the obviousness of her statement.

  I nodded, looking at her, not the kitchen. She was what I saw that looked good enough to eat. “How you been?”

  “Um, fine.” She looked down at the floor. I noticed her painted toenails, that same shade of hot pink. She must like that color. I know I did. I could start there and work my way up. “How about you?”

  “Good.” I ran my hand over my head, searching for words when all I wanted to do was take her into my arms. “Haven’t seen you in a while.”

  “I know! It’s weird. Whenever I’ve worked I’ve looked for you, but I haven’t seen—” She swallowed, stopping herself, seeming to realize what she just admitted. “I mean, not that I’m looking for you.”

  “I’ve looked for you.” I took a step closer, needing less distance between us. It had been too long apart from her, over two weeks since I’d seen her smile, heard her laugh. “Ace caught me doing it, too.”

  “He did?” She laughed nervously, tucking her hair behind one of her ears.

  “I’ve missed seeing you.”

  A loud clunk from another room startled us both.

  “Oh my God. Let me just—” She bolted away, nearly sprinting into a room off the kitchen. The door was open and I could see it was her bedroom, the light on like I’d noticed from down on the street.

  I looked in and could see what had made the clunking noise. It was white, plastic, about nine inches long and vibrating nice and loud now that it had fallen onto the wooden floor. Sky swooped down fast, swiveling her back to me as she turned it off. She acted quickly, but not before I’d seen her vibrator.

  She must have been using it and left it on when she’d gone to answer the door. It had vibrated its way right off the bed. She had to be mortified.

  But that wasn’t foremost on my mind. What occupied every millimeter of space in my brain was the vivid image of her masturbating, spread out across her bed right where the sheets were thrown back, her lips parted in a moan. Now I knew why she’d looked flushed and glowing when she’d answered the door. Now I understood why she’d been out of breath. She’d been pleasuring herself, maybe close to orgasm right when I’d rung the doorbell.

  My cock sprang hard and ready, pressing against my jeans. I walked over to the doorway, arriving in time to see her stash it fast under her pillow. When she turned around to look at me, she’d turned as red as a strawberry.

  “Sorry, my alarm clock went off!”

  I could read arousal all over her body, from the way she shivered slightly to the pebbling of her nipples. Heavy-lidded, I took a step closer.

  “That was such a funny mistake!” She fumbled for words, laughing nervously, backing herself in a corner. I followed, closing in on her. “I must have set the alarm for p.m., not a.m. and it started vibrating.”

  “Sky,” I murmured, done with excuses. I was finished with all the reasons to resist. If she’d been feeling anything like the sexual frustration I had been for months now, we were both about to lose our minds. I reached out and took a strand of her hair in my fingers.

  Breathing quick, she held still, watching my hand. Between my thumb and forefinger, I stroked her hair, then leaned closer so I could breathe her in, the scent I knew so well, had missed so much the past couple of weeks.

  “Jax,” she whispered, her breath coming out in a pant. She sounded needy, nearly pleading. But for what?

  My hand at the back of her head, I tilted her back and kissed her, sound and full as I’d wanted to a thousand times. Only this time I was really doing it, pressing my lips to hers as she moaned into my mouth, her hands coming around my shoulders, her fingers digging into me. A growl forming in my throat, I devoured her, drugging myself on her lips, her tongue.

  At times I’d told myself one kiss would be enough. I’d thought maybe I could find a stolen moment with Sky and kiss her, just once. No one would ever have to know. But now I knew that was impossible. The more I kissed her the more I wanted to kiss. We only broke apart when she pressed her hand to my chest, her forehead to my chin.

  “Wait,” she asked, panting. “I need to…” Her breasts heaved up and down as she breathed. My hands cradled her waist, small against my large frame. I caressed her curves, slowly, letting her take a breath. I wanted to give her space so she could choose to keep on going. “I can’t think!” She swallowed, bringing a shaking hand up to her forehead. “I’ve been telling myself we couldn’t do this! We could never do this!”

  “Have you been thinking about it?” I whispered in her ear, feeling her shiver at my words. She nodded, pressing against me. Her mind might be struggling to put distance between us, but her body wanted to get even closer.

  “I think about kissing you, Sky.” I placed a light kiss on her cheek, then down her throat, holding back. I wanted to feast on her, but only if she wanted that, too. So I restrained myse
lf, giving her the slightest flick of my tongue, the barest hint of a lick against her sensitive skin.

  My hands roamed her body, stroking, feeling the fullness of her hips, the dip of her waist. With just my thumbs, I caressed the base of her breasts. Her nipples pressed against her tank top, aching for me. I could take them into my mouth, lick and suck. But I didn’t. I just swept my thumbs slowly along the swell of her breasts, tantalizing, making her want more.

  “What were you doing before I got here tonight, Sky?” I knew already, but I wanted to hear her say it. I wanted to hear her confess, breathy and aroused, tell me how she’d been touching herself. I brought a hand down to her thigh, stroking her bare skin below her shorts.

  “Jax.” Her voice shook, her fingers trembling as she brought them to my arms, moving along my muscles. She touched me as if she couldn’t believe she was doing it, her palms sliding along my biceps, down my forearms, up to my shoulders.

  I nuzzled her ear, kissing her as I murmured, “You can tell me.”

  “I…it’s not…” She buried her head in the crook of my neck.

  I stroked her hair. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about.” I soothed her, my hand along her throat, down her back, at her hips. All soft curves, melting against me, she felt so right.

  “I can’t believe you saw that,” she choked out, burning with embarrassment.

  “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about you, Sky? Late at night, alone in my bed.”

  She looked up at me, her eyes wide with realization. Had she not known how much I wanted her? I kissed her again, showing her how I felt, how I couldn’t stay away from her, not any longer. Holding her in my arms, feeling her need me just as much as I needed her, I couldn’t believe I’d lasted that long. I pressed her back into the wall, craving more friction, more contact, wanting her breasts right up against my chest.

  Working my hand down at her waistband, I traced the edge. “Tell me, Sky,” I murmured. “Were you touching yourself?”

  She gasped, both at my words and at my fingers dipping slowly inside her shorts, tracing a slow, lazy path down her stomach. As I kissed her throat, her head tipped back and I heard the word I’d wanted to hear.

  “Yes,” she confessed.

  With a hiss of satisfaction, I nipped at her earlobe, wanting to claim her, needing to mark her as mine. My fingers swept lower over her skin, so hot and soft. I wondered whether she’d be wet if I reached lower still, melting for me like I’d always dreamed she would be.

  “Tell me, what were you thinking about?” I whispered.

  Her answer was a moan, long and hungry. “You, Jax. I was thinking about you.”

  We were so caught up in each other, we missed the sound of the apartment door opening. But then a loud stumbling sound from the kitchen roused us from our private world.

  “Fuck!” We both heard Griller cursing, loud and clear. He must have knocked into something when he’d walked into the apartment, probably losing his footing he was so drunk.

  Sky looked up at me in stark panic, all traces of the bliss she’d felt just moments ago vanished from her face. “Go!” she begged in a frantic whisper, rushing to the window leading out to the fire escape. With her shoulder to the frame, she hoisted it up. “Go now!”

  I looked at her, dark and longing. I didn’t want to scurry out like a rat, hiding in the night. She belonged with me, not him.

  “Please,” she pleaded, panic working its way into her voice.

  “Fuck.” I echoed her husband in the other room as I climbed out the window and worked my way down the fire escape, cursing every step.

  7

  Sky

  Three days after Mike had nearly walked in on me and Jax. I was still shaking. I felt like a giant tornado had torn through town heading straight for me. Only at the last second had it veered off path for a narrow miss. I couldn’t believe any of it had happened.

  First, I couldn’t wrap my mind around the fact that Jax had randomly stopped by my apartment to visit. I’d become accustomed to my own obsession with him. My nearly constant thoughts of Jax had kept me company for months now. But I’d told myself it was one-sided. I’d figured my crush was just the by-product of a woman in the midst of an unhappy marriage. It was pretty easy to get attached to Jax. I was sure women got attached to him all the time. I was probably only one in a long line of women thinking about him, texting with him, reading way too much meaning into his brief messages and glances.

  I’d pretty nearly convinced myself that nothing was really going on with Jax. It was all in my head. And it had helped me to stay away from him. For most of the last few weeks, I’d managed to stop sending him texts. I thought about him all the time, wondering what he was up to, wanting to share my day, my thoughts, but I’d stopped acting on impulse. I told myself it was pathetic, my attachment. I was acting like a nerdy schoolgirl crushing on the popular football star who barely knew she existed. In reality, I was a married woman, and I needed to focus all my energies on changing that fact.

  But then he’d shown up, at my door, just like I’d fantasized about him doing so many nights. He’d looked exactly like I always imagined, wearing worn jeans and a black T-shirt that hugged him just right. He looked so rugged, with a little bit of stubble. And the way he looked at me, as if he’d missed seeing and talking to me as much as I’d missed him. It nearly took my breath away.

  And I’d already been slightly winded. When he’d rung the doorbell, I’d been right in the middle of a hot fantasy about none other than Jax. I’d been on the bed, lost in my imagination as I fucked myself with my vibrator. I’d started out slow, just my fingers. Mike was out and I didn’t expect him home, so I’d taken my time. Building it nice and steady, I’d pictured Jax, sitting with him in his truck like we had the night he’d driven me home. Only this time he hadn’t just dropped me off. Instead of my hopping out of the cab, he’d pulled me close to him, kissed me deep and full. I’d slid over, straddling his lap, running my hands over his body the way I’d wanted to so many times.

  When my fantasy got more X-rated, him unzipping his jeans, shoving my skirt up and slipping me out of my panties, I’d reached for my vibrator. I’d wanted to feel it up inside of me, thrusting in where I was so wet for him, while I thought about his cock. How it would feel to have him inside of me, taking me, making me ride him in the darkness, so forbidden, so hot.

  Right when I’d been about to cum, imagining him grabbing onto my hips, ramming me down again and again onto his huge, hard cock, the doorbell had rung. Disoriented, panting, I’d barely managed to slip on a pair of shorts. And apparently I hadn’t remembered to turn off the vibrator. I’d left it there buzzing away on the bed, a little too close to the edge.

  I’d felt so obvious, standing with him the kitchen, my vivid fantasy mingling with reality. He had to have noticed I was flushed, my hair all messy, my breathing coming fast. I wasn’t even wearing a bra. I clearly hadn’t been thinking, answering the door like that.

  And then the clunk. I’d nearly died of embarrassment when I’d realized what had fallen down onto the floor in my bedroom. Hearing that buzz on the hardwood, I’d known instantly what made the sound. I’d sprinted as fast as I could. I bet if someone had clocked me I’d have set a new world record.

  But when he’d caught me, burning shame had turned into a whole different kind of heat. Backed into a corner, trapped, a switch had flipped inside of me. I went from praying he wouldn’t find out what I’d been up to, to desperately wanting him to know. I’d wanted him to make me tell him how bad I’d been. I’d needed to admit my obsession. Finally touching, kissing, confessing, it had felt like getting swept up in a tidal wave, all that pent-up longing built up over all those months crashing over us.

  Then we’d heard Mike in the other room. If we hadn’t, we’d both probably be dead. I’d been so far gone, so lost to the moment, I think I’d been about 30 seconds from unzipping Jax’s jeans and begging him to take me. If he’d spread my legs, I would have pleaded
with him to fuck me hard, right up against the wall. Then Mike would have walked in and killed us both.

  I wasn’t exaggerating. Mike kept a gun on him at all times. If he’d walked in on Jax and me having sex, there was no way he would have wanted to have a conversation about it. Nor would he have been satisfied with using his fists. Things would have gotten real bloody real fast, especially since he was drunk.

  I’d narrowly avoided complete disaster. And as the survivor of a near-death experience, I knew what I should do. I should make the sign on the cross, blow a kiss up to God and vow to live the rest of my days in a sanctified and righteous manner. I should embrace eternal gratitude that Mike’s stumble gave us the 60 seconds of warning we needed to cover up our transgressions. And I should never talk to Jax again.

  My phone rumbled with a text.

  Jax: Are you all right?

  I put it back into my pocket and continued my rounds. So far, in the three days since we’d nearly gotten caught, I’d managed to avoid him. I’d lost myself in the constant busyness of work, the unending stream of demands. But I functioned on autopilot, my body doing what was required while my mind stayed locked on one subject and one subject alone.

  Because my guilty secret was that, deep down, I felt thrilled. Elated. Jax liked me. Late at night, while I’d been alone in bed thinking about him, he’d been doing the exact same thing. The thought of it was like taking a big shot of potent liquor, the liquid flowing through my veins like molten lava. I shouldn’t be thinking about it. I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  I kept replaying certain moments. The feel of his large, warm hand sliding along my waist. His thumb caressing my jaw as he tipped my head back into a kiss. The way he whispered into my ear, his breath making me tingle, his words making me ache. I thought I’d been obsessed with Jax before? Now I felt certifiably insane, unable to focus on a single thing other than him.