by BJ Harvey
I turn my head, his lips ghosting over my jaw as he moves down to my neck, peppering my sensitive skin with soft, open-mouthed kisses.
“Is this… what you meant by coffee?” I breathe, my legs turning to mush. “Because if it is, I’m definitely in need of a caffeine injection.”
He chuckles against my collarbone, and it’s a close second to him laughing against my lips. With one final kiss to my neck—this time with suction and a gentle scrape of his teeth—he lifts his head, his hands holding me in place on my hip and bicep. “Tonight isn’t about—”
“Coffee?” I ask, biting my lip.
“Yes, but tonight’s invitation, it wasn’t an excuse to get you naked again.”
I look up at him, pressing my breasts into his chest and running my fingers around his neck. “I’m not complaining if it was the means to get me here. I wanted to be with you on Saturday, and I want to be with you again.”
His eyes burn into mine, and it’s the most serious I’ve seen him. “I know you handed in that piece of paper, but if anything changes, I want you to know I get how much is at stake.”
Wow. I mean… my lips part as my breath catches. Sincere, honest, completely selfless Jax is a sight to behold. I feel like I’m having an out-of-body experience because no one close to me has ever put me first. Never. I’ve always been the one who had to do what I was told, follow the family rules, meet their expectations, or else suffer the unspoken wrath of my father.
Tears sting my eyes. I quickly move my arms back, swipe at my cheeks, and then duck my head down to hide my completely unexpected reaction to his words.
Jax isn’t having a bar of that though. He glides his hand from my shoulder to my jaw, tilting my face up to his. His jaw ticks before I’m moving, and not of my own volition. Jax bends down, lifts me up—bridal-style—and carries me over to a plastic-sheet-covered antique couch. In the blink of an eye, I’m positioned in the seat beside him, my legs hooked over his, with one arm around my waist pulling me close.
“What are those tears for?” he says softly, sweeping his thumb across my cheek.
I rest my hands on his waist, trying to formulate the words to explain what I’m feeling without sounding like a crackpot. In the end, I decide to just go with the truth.
“This feels more than just physical attraction to me. I know I should’ve told you about the class, but we didn’t exactly talk the other night. Being proactive, I read the non-frat policy and decided to take a stand ahead of time in case what I wanted to happen actually did happen.” I take a deep breath and lose myself in his soft eyes. “If you want to take this slow, I’m totally onboard with that. If you want to wait until the semester is over, that’s okay too. I just need you to know that I want to see where this—us—could go.”
“Beautiful,” he says, a lazy grin curving his lips. He wraps his arm around my back and pulls me closer. “I wanted you the day we met, and I have ever since then. Saturday was destined to happen. It was a certainty, not a maybe.” His gaze roams my face before locking with mine once more. “I don’t want to have to wait until after this semester, but I do want to make sure we do this right.”
“So, dating?” I ask. His smile turns coy, and I almost swear he blushes a little.
“Dating. Spending time together. Publicly. Privately. With people and without. Dating.”
I open my mouth to ask whether it includes naked time together, but his index finger against my lips stops me. The amused gleam in his eyes tells me he knows exactly what I was going to say.
“But, I want to keep it off-campus. This is between us and only us. We’ve covered the administration side so we’re not at risk of breaching any policies. That’s not to say there wouldn’t be questions asked and eyebrows raised by fellow students.”
I nod, my hormones taking a back seat in light of Jax’s level-headed and logical thought process. Whoever thought he’d be the sensible one out of the two of us? Here I am, all pent up and ready to jump his bones at every turn, and he’s all ‘slow and steady wins the race.’ Then again, I’ve always been a fan of being chased.
“Okay. But two questions before I agree to go steady.”
His lips twitch, a slow-growing half-grin making my stomach do somersaults in the best possible way.
“Hit me,” he replies.
“How will the class be affected? I can’t exactly have my boyf—guy I’m dating….”
His eyes crinkle at the sides at my self-censor. “Man-servant, sex slave, whipping boy…”
“Guy I’m dating… mark my portfolio.”
“Well, no. That’s why Professor Blackman will be doing it.”
I stop breathing. “The dean? Jax, I’m not sure about that.”
His face softens. “He’s my friend and has been my mentor since the start of my career. There’s no tougher critic but no one else I trust more than Joey.” He reaches for my hand and laces his fingers with mine. “You’ll learn more in a semester than some people do over their whole degree.”
“As long as it’s not going to be a problem.”
“Better a problem than you having to defer the course until next year,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to my temple. “Besides, I’m still your professor. I still get to teach you everything I know.”
I snort, burying my face in his shoulder as I succumb to an immature giggling fit.
When my laughter slows to a snicker, Jax’s hand loosely grips the side of my head, gently easing me back so he can look at me. His eyes dance; his mouth is curved.
“Damn, beautiful. Your laugh is almost as sexy as your moan when I’m deep inside you.” That makes me whimper, and his eyes darken with heat.
“There’s one…” I say, my voice a low rasp. “One more question. Remember?” I clear my throat, Jax’s gaze roaming down my front as I do. I place the tip of an index finger under his chin and push up until he’s staring at me again. He shakes his head as if to clear the lust-fueled haze.
“Right,” he says, sitting up straight but not setting me aside or separating us at all. “The second question.”
I swing my body over his so I’m straddling his thighs. His hands glide around my hips to grip my ass. Jax’s eyes drop to my lap, my dress now riding obscenely high.
“Ahem,” I say. His head snaps up faster than a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Not that I’d complain if he wanted to put his—
“Your second question, Ronnie?” he says, using my name for the first time tonight.
“This dating idea…” I say quietly, slowly walking the fingers of my right hand up his arm, over his shoulder, and down his chest. “Does that mean sex is off the table completely?”
His hand reaches between us, wrapping around my wrist just as I reach his navel, a groan escaping his lips. He drops his head back to the couch, his eyes scrunched closed, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “This is gonna sound lame.”
I rest the weight of my torso against his. “How about you let me decide that?” I ask, meeting his gaze with a quirked brow.
He opens his crystal-clear amber eyes, and the absolute sincerity I see shining back at me has my breath catching in my throat.
“So, we’re going to date,” he says.
“Yes.”
“We’ll go out and stay in, and be official in private, friendly in public.”
“Mmm hmm…” I hum. His eyes drift to my mouth, and I subconsciously lick my lips at his focused attention.
“But how about we let everything else happen organically. When the time is right…”
I catch a sliver of uncertainty in his eyes, and I make a decision to drop the subject for the moment. “I think you’re right in that we should maybe take it one day at a time.”
I drop my mouth to his for a slow, soft, lazy kiss, one that isn’t going anywhere. It’s an expression of interest and a promise of what may come in future. Not tonight, though. Tonight, I’ll give Jax his coffee date. But there’s one thing I want after that.
Pu
lling back, I grin down at him as our eyes meet. “Okay. Now that we’ve got the heavy stuff out of the way, I want a guided tour of Barbie’s disaster house.” I swing my leg back and shift so I’m sitting on the couch beside him. “After coffee, of course. Actually, was there ever actually coffee on tonight’s menu?”
He straightens, and after running a hand through his hair and huffing out a laugh, he stands and holds out his hand for mine. “Yes, there’s coffee. I’ve even got cookies and a bottle of wine as backup.”
I beam up at him. “I’m impressed.”
“And I’ll have you know,” he says, looking around the room, “we plan on turning this dilapidated dame into someone else’s dream house within four months. This old bird will be shiny and new, with just a few splashes of her pink history scattered about.”
I slide my hand into his and let him pull me to my feet. “Just remember, less is more… especially when it comes to pink.”
“Just remember, less now doesn’t mean more won’t come in future,” he says. I don’t think we’re talking about the house anymore.
He kisses my forehead and flexes his fingers in mine before leading me out of the prima donna living room and into an equally fabulous pink dining area. From there I’m shown the surprisingly bland kitchen, which has definitely seen better days, a filled-to-the-roof office, five bedrooms which are all different shades of—you guessed it—pink, and finally, we return to the bottom of the fuchsia carpeted staircase with its pink and dark wood banister.
“How was your tour, madam?” Jax asks, the cutest of grins on his lips. We’ve had coffee, and chatted a little more about my classes and his.
“It was satisfactory. I could do with a top-up though.” I’m deliberately vague, interested to see which way he takes it. His eyes burn into mine, and the tightening of his fingers around mine gives me my clue. My back hits the front door, his hard body holding me hostage and giving me my answer.
When he kisses me breathless, mindless, and legless by way of goodbye, I know for sure I’m more than willing to take this as slowly as he needs us to go, especially if it means getting kissed so thoroughly. He kisses like he owns me, and I’m just a willing participant.
Tonight has shown me there are hidden depths to this man, and I am itching to explore every single one of them.
How did I wait a year for this? For him? Oh, that’s right; I wanted him to chase me. Now, he’s got me on the hook and wants to reel me in. Who am I to complain about that? Especially if I’m waiting to jump whenever we’re both ready for it.
He wants slow and steady and controlled, and I’ve just made it my life’s mission to make him break his rules and jump me as soon as he can’t take it anymore.
Yep. This is definitely going to be a lot of fun.
Now I can’t freaking wait to date Jaxon Cook.
8
Jax
Bright and early Wednesday morning, I’m sitting on the plastic-covered couch in the living room, my feet up on the dark wood coffee table, coffee in hand, when Jamie walks through the front door.
“Whoa, you’re actually awake,” he says by way of greeting. I snort and take another sip of my drink, making a show of lifting my arm to look at my watch.
“You’re actually five minutes late. What did Dad teach us about being punctual?”
Jamie rolls his eyes, his lips twitching as he walks into the room with his own travel mug in hand. “So how’s the pink lady been treating you? No ghosts determined to make our lives miserable?”
“Well, apart from the delightfully cheerful color scheme giving me Barbie nightmares, I slept like a baby.”
“Good. It’s going to get a bit dusty, messy, and chaotic from now on, but we’ll just leave your room until another one is finished and move you around when needed. Take it from me, it’s hard to live, work, and breathe in a shell of a house.”
Shrugging, I look around the room and meet his eyes again. “The place has a certain charm. I think we should try and keep as much of it as possible.”
“That’s the plan. But any ideas you’ve got, let us all know when we do the walk-through.”
I nod in agreement. “And when’s that?”
“This afternoon, once we get through the trash-or-stash process.”
“Sounds good. How many hands on deck do we have?”
He looks toward the front door just as Bryant appears in the entryway.
Bryant says, “Well, I have two, but Cohen only has the use of one, since the other one is always on his di—”
“I’m right behind you, asshole,” our youngest brother Cohen announces, narrowing his eyes at Bryant.
“Oh hey, Co. Didn’t see you there,” my twin replies with a smirk.
“My ass!” Cohen frowns then shoulders past Bryant into the room, dropping into a pale pink recliner beside me. “Got any more of that?” he asks, nodding to my cup.
“Yep, in the kitchen. I’ve only got two mugs at the moment, so it’s first in, first served,” I reply.
“Hey, be a good brother and get me a drink,” Co says, resting his head back on the chair and closing his eyes. “I’ve just finished an overnight. I’m beat.”
“How about I show you what being beat really means?” Bry mutters, earning a one-eyed shit-eating grin from Co.
“Boys, boys, boys. No need to put on a show on our account,” Ezra announces, him and our builder friend Jase appearing out of nowhere in the doorway. Ezra has been like an honorary fifth brother since we moved next door to his family when we were all kids. He’s also Jamie’s best friend and partner in crime, and—good and cheap for us—an architect.
“Yeah. Keep it up. It might put me off the idea of having kids for a bit longer,” Jase says.
That makes me laugh. “The way you and your wife go at it, it’s not when, it’s how many at once you’ll be having.”
“My wife does like multiples,” Jase says with a smirk.
“And on that TMI note, I will go get Cohen a coffee, if for no other reason than to get away from the ‘I’m a newlywed getting too much sex’ conversation,” Bryant says before leaving for the kitchen.
“It’s not just newlyweds,” says Jamie under his breath. My head snaps his way, my eyes bugging out of my head at the revealing comment from my normally private big brother.
“Who knew April was a wildcat?” I muse, quiet enough for his ears only. Except Cohen, who I thought was dozing, gives a side-glance Jamie’s way, a knowing grin curving his lips.
Jamie’s eyes narrow at first me, then Co. Ezra sits between us and averts a disaster.
“So, are we going through it room by room to formulate a plan so I can finalize the drawings?” Ezra asks. Jamie nods, his expression morphing from annoyance to all business.
“Yep. We’ve got the moving truck ready to be picked up in a few hours and a jumbo dumpster being delivered at nine a.m., so if we go through rooms now and mark down what furniture and fittings are worth keeping, then we can make a start and get things moved out.”
We all stand just as Bryant comes back with Cohen’s coffee.
“I’m yours till twelve. Then I need to go home and crash. I’m not working tonight, but I doubt I’m going to be any use to you this afternoon,” Cohen says, taking the mug from our brother.
“Nice for some,” I tease, earning the finger. I stand and walk over to Bryant’s side. “That’s okay, Co. Your famous talented twin brothers will cover for you.”
The group starts laughing, Jamie and Ezra more than the others. “Since when has anyone called you two the ‘talented twins,’” Ez says with air quotes.
Normally, I’d reply with, “That’s not what insert woman’s name here said Saturday night,” but I don’t want to share what happened with my brothers right now.
Bryant turns his head as if expecting a smart-ass quip, and when it doesn’t come, he lifts a brow, his expression one of confusion. “Later,” I mouth, which just makes his frown deepen. I swear, this twin thing can be really fucking
cool sometimes, but also, it makes it impossible for me to keep something to myself. It’s a blessing and a curse.
“Okay. Are we going to sit here with our fingers up our asses or are we actually going to get this show on the road?” Jase says, now leaning against the doorframe. “Because time is money, and I’ve got less time, and you guys should have less money. Let’s talk shit while we do inventory on the furniture and fittings. Then we can get to work.”
The rest of the guys stand, Cohen downing his coffee and placing his cup in my outstretched hand, and everyone except me moving toward Jase, who is holding out clipboards and strips of colored stickers. I quickly dump the mugs in the kitchen sink and return to the living room to find Bry waiting for me, clipboard and pen in hand and a wry smile on his dial. “Looks like we’re partners…”
“Again? Yeah, let’s team the twins together. Do they not think we spend enough time together?”
“I love you too, brother,” he says with a laugh. “This time, I volunteered to cover your ass so we can start in the attic and you can tell me what the fuck happened before.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I hedge, walking past him toward the big, sweeping staircase. “Man, I can’t wait to get rid of this pink.”
“You’re changing the subject,” he says, his voice full of amusement.