Playing With Jax: Chosen Book 29

by J. D. Light

  Wade had sent me here to help keep the chosen healthy and make sure Lane got out safely if all hell broke loose. There had actually been nothing said about following him around all the time and practically becoming his shadow, but I'd done it anyway.

  Once I had the amplifier out and ready, I turned the volume on the lowest setting and pointed it at the wall that separated our rooms. Thankfully, this close, I didn't have to turn the sound up but a few notches, which kept the irritating hum at a minimum.

  "He checked my browser history," I heard Lane grumble clearly, and I smirked, stupidly happy that he was talking about me to someone. "He knows I looked up kangaroos, which is embarrassing as hell."

  "You think that's embarrassing?" the voice on the other line said, the sound a bit more muffled, but still clear enough to understand. "What did he think of your porn preference?" I smirked at the silence that followed, picturing the blush that would be rising on Lane's handsome face. "Oh my God, you didn't have any."

  Lane sighed, sounding indignant. "I don't watch porn, because I'm constantly paranoid someone is going to go through my browser history." There was another pause, this one a bit lengthier, and I frowned before looking around at the cords lying around on the ground, wondering if something came unplugged. "I have a very active imagination," Lane finally said, mumbling.

  The man on the phone chuckled before stopping suddenly, gasping into the line. "Wait, was the kangaroo research your porn? Were you dreaming about that thick kangaroo tail?"

  I started to laugh until the last part of that statement registered, and then I was choking on my own spit.

  What the hell was wrong with this guy?

  "You're nasty!" Lane exclaimed, sounding every bit as disgusted as I was. "Why did I call you?"

  "Because you still feel bad about roofying me," the other guy said perkily.

  I'd heard about that. It meant the man on the other line was either West or Dylan, the two guys he'd drugged in order to sneak a prisoner by who'd just so happened to be Darian.

  West had kidnapped the man and one other member of the group that was running this terrible auction-house, and because Lane was supposed to be working for Darian, and Darian knew he had FBI ties, he'd had to free Darian, so he could get the man back to his duties, so that Lane could resume his position and therefore be able to report all chosen coming and going, so that the FBI could get the chosen once they left the auction-house with their new owners.

  Wade had told Lane to keep the whole thing a secret from Dylan and West because he was an untrusting asshole most of the time, and the whole thing had turned into a fucking mess that Lane had struggled with and was still struggling with.

  "I do!" he cried, and the bed creaked. He'd probably just thrown his significant bulk down on the mattress. "I hate this job so much, West. I'm getting burnt out."

  My chest ached for the actual misery in his voice. When I'd first started this job, it had been painfully obvious that the gorgeous man was worn. He kept his face straight and his actions normal when Darian or someone close to the man was around, but when he would slip off by himself, his entire face would change. The corners of his mouth would droop, and his eyes looked sad. He'd sneak around the edge of the house and lean up against the wall, letting his head fall back against the siding and closed his eyes.

  The day he'd caught me following him, had actually been one of those days, and I'd got dazed out––like a fucking moron––on his neck. I'd been thinking about how much I wanted to kiss and lick and suck the skin there. How much I was dying to mark it up, and I'd apparently stepped closer, because when he finally leaned his head up and looked around, we made eye contact and he'd looked so fucking shocked.

  I knew his instincts were good. I'd seen them in action in those few days that I'd watched him. He always seemed to know when someone was around even before they announced themselves or made themselves known in other ways, but he hadn't sensed me, and he seemed to be completely thrown by that.

  Add to that the fact that I'd lied to cover my creepy ways and so I could continue to follow him without a fight every time, by telling him that Wade had sent me to babysit him, and he'd been less than thrilled to welcome me with open arms.

  "I know, sweetie," Dylan/West said, making me frown. "You're too innocent for that world."

  Sweetie? What the fuck?

  "I'm not that innocent," Lane said indignantly.

  The man snorted. "You don't even have porn in your computer so that Jax can tell what your type is. Poor Jax."

  "How did you know he wanted to know what my type is?"

  I rolled my eyes but couldn't help the curl of my lips. Because, you adorable idiot, anyone else in the world can probably see how interested I am in you.

  A lot of noise came from the phone, almost like it had been dropped on the other end… maybe down a flight of stairs or something since it seemed to go on forever.

  "Did he ask you what your type was?" West/Dylan practically yelled into the phone, making me cringe slightly.

  I smirked some more, picturing the look of shock on Lane's face from our conversation earlier. I'd wanted to kiss him so bad then. I'd wanted to press him up against the nearest tree and rub my entire body all over him while feeding him my tongue.

  Lane groaned. "Yeah. After he asked me about my masturbation habits."

  "Oh my God, you're adorable," the guy said in response, sounding excited. "If he asked you how you jack off and to what, it's because he wants to know where he fits in. He's hoping he's your type."

  "What?" Lane squeaked, and the bed creaked again, letting me know he'd probably moved around suddenly. "No, he's not."

  Yes, I am.

  "Yeah, he is." There was a long beat of silence. "Do you think he's hot?"

  I leaned forward, biting my lip in anticipation of his response, wanting to know what he thought of me with a desperation I knew couldn't be healthy.

  Lane groaned. "Can we talk about something else?"

  No. No, you need to talk about this.

  "That's a big yes," the other voice said perkily.

  But not a big enough one for me.

  "So, I was thinking today that we need to take what Flynn's little half-way houses do and expand that and make it part of the new unit," Lane said, changing the subject. "Make it more like an agency that not only focuses on the get them out and protect them phase, but also the recovery, housing and reemergence phase, so they can get back to living as normal a life as possible."

  "I like that. Flynn and his group do a great job, but they all have other priorities. If we could start a division that focused solely on helping them recover, that would be amazing. I'll talk to Flynn about it."

  There was a beat of silence, then Lane cleared his throat. "Once this is off the ground and there are people to do this part of the job, I think I want to be in that part, helping with their recovery."

  I smiled softly. That would probably be for the best. I knew I'd feel better about it, knowing he was safe, and also knowing that he was… okay. Doing something that would help to heal his soft heart instead of continuously breaking it.

  "You'd be great at it," West/Dylan said quietly.

  Lane chuckled softly. "I don't know about that, but I would definitely feel better about my job."

  Damn, he was sweet.

  "Dyl, and I both forgive you. You know that, right?" West's voice was soft and soothing. It was clear he really cared for Lane, and though the thought made me uneasy, since I didn't know what kind of caring it was, I was glad he had people.

  I had no doubt these last few months working for Darian had been lonely. The only person he could actually talk to and be real with was his boss, and though Wade was a pretty decent guy, he was also less than friendly. He needed his friends. He needed me, whether he wanted to admit it or not.

  "It would be hard not to know it, since you tell me you love me every single time we get off the phone," Lane grumbled, making West chuckle.

  I however didn't r
eally find it funny. I needed a bit more clarity on the dynamics of their relationship before I decided whether or not I was okay with West professing his love.

  "So, is Jax your type?" West asked out of nowhere, and again I leaned forward in anticipation like an idiot.

  Lane groaned, the bed once again giving a protest as he moved around on top of it, and I tried not to picture what he would look like sprawled across the mattress, his large, delicious body on full display.

  He was a pretty big guy structurally speaking. Definitely muscular with big thick legs and a gorgeous, juicy bubble of an ass. His shoulders were wide, and his arms and chest were heavily padded in rounded muscle. Second though to his big, delicious ass, was his slightly soft belly. In all honesty, he was slightly soft everywhere. He passed all the physical tests given to him to make sure he was fit to work in the position he was working in, but he had a softness to his body over all that muscle that made me crazy.

  I'd had so many fantasies about watching all that extra move while I pounded into him. I was actually starting to worry myself with the amount of time I spent thinking about getting inside that plush body of his. When he was climbing those steps in front of me earlier, I'd been seconds away from burying my face in his ass.

  "Shut up." Lane's voice was muffled, almost like he was talking into a pillow, and I wondered just how red his handsome face was.

  "I knew it," West exclaimed excitedly. "You talk about him every time we chat. Is he a top or a bottom? Wait, are you a top or a bottom? You're a big boy, and like taking care of people, but you also have that sweet innocent vibe going. Not that tops can't be innocent, but I don't know… I bet you’re a bottom. Am I right?"

  I was frozen in place, my eyes wide as I stared at the wall between us, wishing I had the ability to see through it, but unfortunately, I didn't think my goggles would work through the wall since there were so many damn layers, and I'd have to put my amplifier down to go dig them out of their case, and I really, really wanted to hear the answer to this.

  "I… I don't know," Lane said quietly, but his voice was clear once again, telling me he'd pulled his head out of the pillow.

  What? What? I sat there waiting for one of them to say something. It felt like hours before more words were spoken, but it was probably, like, ten seconds, but I was ready to throw my shit down and storm over to demand real answers to all these burning questions that he'd for some reason decided not to answer.

  "You don't know?" West asked, sounding as confused as I was. "How do you… Oh my God."

  What? Oh my God, what? What was I missing?

  "Yeah." Lane sounded quiet and embarrassed and I was standing there with my equipment in my hands––my amplifier not my dick––and I didn't know what to do with myself. I didn't like the sound of his voice like that. I liked when he was defiantly embarrassed. It was fucking adorable when red ran up onto his face and he narrowed his eyes on me like he was going to throw something at me or punch me in the face. I liked the way his voice got all deep and how he growled through his teeth. I didn't like the way he sounded like he was actually unsure right then. I didn't like the lack of confidence in his voice.

  "You're a virgin?" West whispered into the phone like someone was listening, and that someone who was listening had to actually strain to listen, and when I finally understood the words, my heartrate spiked for no apparent reason at all.

  "You don't have to say it like it's a bad thing," Lane mumbled, still in that small voice that was hurting my chest, and I had to readjust my grip on the machinery in my hands since my palms were suddenly sweating. "I'm a virgin. It's not that big a deal."

  Holy shit! It wasn't really that big a deal, and I never would have thought I'd be one of those guys who cared one way or another whether someone was a virgin. Everyone had their reasons for having or not having sex. Some people really enjoyed it, and did it as often as they could and as long as they weren't cheating or taking without consent, I figured they could find pleasure wherever the fuck they wanted in a world that was starting to get pretty fucking sad and scary, but this was different somehow.

  It was different because the word mine was suddenly running through my head like a fucking chant, and a part of me that I'd never have guessed I even had was turning into the worst kind of possessive bastard as I thought about being the only person for him.

  "Right," West said quickly, probably picking up on the vulnerability in Lane's tone just like I had. "I didn't mean for it to sound like it's a big deal." He paused for a moment. "Like nothing? What about oral?"

  Lane chuckled lightly, and I liked the sound of it, even if it didn't sound completely happy. It was still better than the soft voice and embarrassed tone.

  "No. I'm completely and utterly inexperienced. I've only even had one kiss and it was because I got drunk with some friends by accident when I was seventeen and played Spin the Bottle. It landed on some girl named Everly, and I ended up having to run away to throw up in the bushes. Not because she was a bad kisser or anything, but because I was like super wasted."

  I chuckled, imagining a younger version of the adorable man kissing some girl and then stumbling his way to the bushes and throwing up. The sound echoed through my amplifier, and I cringed, before clamping my mouth shut. He'd have been absolutely mortified, I had no doubt, and I could only imagine the blush fest that had caused… and was probably still causing right now on the other side of this fucking wall.

  West chuckled too. "How the hell did you get drunk by accident?"

  There was a deep sigh, and I smiled, wishing for the millionth time that I could see his damn face right then. "It was a pasture party, and they had like four tailgates down and each had a different type of drink. There was supposed to be one with drinks for people who didn't want alcohol, and I really wanted to go home and sleep in my own bed that night. I found out later they had an ice-chest with pop and water on the ground next to the truck I went to… which was serving punch. Heavily spiked punch."

  "Holy shit," West said, before laughing. “You’ve always been this adorable, haven’t you?”

  I was willing to bet yes, and I wished I could go back in time and see him like he was back then.

  “I gotta go,” Lane whined, and West chuckled again.

  “Okay, okay. I love you.”

  “I love you too, West.”

  I growled, narrowing my eyes at the wall. I was pretty sure that had been a platonic phone call, but the part of me that was still chanting mine in my head needed to make sure. I needed to know that West wasn’t my fucking competition.

  I walked over to the case, gently but quickly putting all the equipment in the proper places, before practically sprinting out the door to Lane's room.

  Chapter Three

  The knock on the door startled me, since I didn't expect anyone to come around, and I actually hesitated to get up and see who was there. I already had way too much shit on my mind between trying to keep everything straight with what I had and hadn't told Darian and sneaking around to take care of the chosen and dealing with Jax and desperately wanting Jax and trying to keep Jax from finding out just how much I wanted him, I just didn't want to add whatever drama that was on the other side of that wood door.

  At the second knock, I decided I'd better just suck it up and figure out what the hell someone wanted with me.

  I nearly swallowed my tongue at the sight on the other side of the door. Jax fucking Carter, shirtless in a pair of low riding, worn jeans with the top button undone, exposing where his happy trail flared into pubic hair. Fuck! His skin was lightly tanned, his pecs perfect slabs standing out perfectly above his chiseled abs that led to that deep sexy V I never had any hope of ever having.

  In fact, his body was the epitome of perfection, and I was suddenly even more self-conscious of the gut I'd managed to accumulate over the last few years… okay, I'd accumulated more than a gut. It wasn’t for lack of exercise. I hit the gym at least three times a week, but my diet was shit due to my crazy l
ifestyle.

  "What are you doing?" I choked out, trying to keep my eyes on his face, but I was drawn in by the light-colored freckles scattered liberally all over his shoulders and chest.

  "Was that West Dyer you were just talking to?" he asked, pushing his way inside my room without an invitation, brushing his perfect pecs against my arm, one pebbled nipple lightly brushing against the exposed skin just below where my sleeve ended and scorching a path along my skin.

  I shuddered, biting my lip and swallowing hard before slowly closing the door. It wasn't the first time the man had come to my room. There were very few places in this house where we could talk without being worried we'd be overheard, since most of the people here were shifters, but the rooms were secure, and I only knew that because I was high enough up in the security ranks to have access to all the camera feeds. He'd been in my room exactly three other times, and all those times he'd been completely clothed.

  I took a deep breath to brace myself and turned to face Jax, determined not to stare at his gorgeous body or think about brushing my lips along the freckled skin of his shoulders and back or licking the lines of his pecs, abs and that fucking V.

  He was much closer than I anticipated when I turned, and I nearly ran him over. "How do you know I was talking to someone?" I stepped back slightly, not wanting to look like I was retreating, though I kinda was, but also not wanting to be so much in his personal space… or him in mine.

  "I heard you," he said simply, tilting his head to the side and narrowing his eyes like he was trying to figure something out.

  "You were listening to my phone conversation?" I asked, completely stunned.

  And he'd asked about West, which told me he'd at least heard me say the man's name.

  "Was it?" He asked insistently, actually stepping a bit closer.

  It took far too much restraint for me to keep from taking a step back when he actually put us close enough for me to feel the warmth of his skin through the material of my T-shirt. "Yes, it was West Dyer. Why were you listening to my phone conversation?"