Jaxon - Bad Boys of New York Book #1

by Mackenzy Fox

  “No, I meant out there, back to my friends.” I wave to the door.

  What I really want is to go home and sleep it off, the thought of my bed is very comforting right now. I’m too close to him, he looks too good in that suit, smells so damn sexy and his bossy attitude is just the right amount of dark and dangerous in my drunken state.

  I am never drinking tequila or pink cocktails again.

  “I think perhaps it’s time to go home.”

  “Your place or mine?” I fling back sarcastically.

  He steps closer to me, doing that one eyebrow raise thing as he smirks. “Maybe when you’re sober, but I’m not that into inebriated chicks and especially not ones I’m paid to protect, not that you’re very grateful about anything, so bedding you would not only be a pointless exercise but near on impossible because nothing would ever satisfy you.”

  I stare at him wide-eyed, momentarily speechless. “You’ve got some nerve,” I spit. “And in your dreams by the way, I wouldn’t let you bed me if you were the last man on earth, the thought makes my skin crawl, like you could even get to first base anyway!”

  He cocks his head. “Oh, I’d get to all the bases, MJ, and that’s without even using my hands.”

  My mouth goes dry as I imagine him using everything except his hands.

  We stare at each other and I literally want to thump him one minute and jump him the next. It’s not normal all these feelings he brings out in me. I don’t want them. I have to get out of here before I prove myself wrong.

  “I’m leaving,” I state and I make for the door. I hear Jaxon shove off the desk and follow behind me, I’m sure I hear a string of profanity as he approaches but I don’t bother to turn around.

  I barely make it back to the VIP area when I feel a pair of hands snake around me. I know for a fact it isn’t Jaxon. I’m so annoyed and pent up over our argument, I turn around and shove whoever it is off of me.

  “Get lost!” I yell as I look up and see Gareth again. Why can’t he keep his mitts to himself?

  “You liked it out on the dance floor,” he laughs. “You said you wanted to have fun, don’t worry about your freaking bodyguard, I’ll protect you.”

  Before I have time to say anything else, Jaxon is in front of me and fists are flying. He hits Gareth square in the face, one punch and he’s stumbling backwards. For some unfathomable reason, Gareth swings back, he misses and Jaxon decks him again, this time, he goes down and blood begins gushing out from his nose.

  I stand there in shock looking down at him.

  “You broke my fucking nose!” Gareth wails, his hands cup his face as blood spurts out everywhere.

  “I told you once to keep your fucking hands off her!” he yells, pulling the lapels of his shirt angrily. “Do I speak a foreign language or something?”

  Chase appears suddenly with another couple of security guys and they all pull Jaxon off him.

  Dixie appears next to me and looks at me with wide eyes, her hands over her mouth in shock as she assesses the situation unfolding.

  “What the hell?” she hollers over the music, looking from the heap on the floor and back to me.

  “He kept groping me,” I say with a frown, I suddenly need to get out of here, like now. My heart is hammering in my chest wildly.

  The bouncers escort Gareth away and Jaxon turns to look at me and points in my face.

  “You, get your shit, I’m taking you home,” he barks without another word.

  I stare at him in disbelief but the adrenaline coursing through me is like nothing else. Jaxon in action is like nothing I’ve seen before.

  He’s so strong, so in control, so goddamn hot.

  A part of me knows that he may have over-reacted but I can’t help but feel that the guy deserved it. How many times did I have to shove him off and say no?

  I grab Dixie’s arm as I go to retrieve my purse from the VIP area, I swipe a shot from the table and down it in one gulp, the raw liquid hits me in the back of the throat like a freight train. Something tells me I’m going to need it if I’m to survive a car ride home with him.

  Oh, God no. I’m dreading it.

  I comply because even though he seems to think he can tell me what to do, now isn’t the time to argue about it again, he is paid to protect me and, frankly, I don’t want to infuriate him further. He’s scary when he’s mad.

  The beast has finally emerged.

  11

  Jaxon

  “You have no right to do that,” she spits at me as I haul her ass to my car.

  “Really, Morgan? You really don’t want to push me right now, trust me on that.”

  “Trust you?” she laughs without humor, resting her head against the window as I strap her inside and click her seatbelt into place. “Why would I do that?”

  I ignore her and shut the door, then move around to the driver’s seat. I start up my car and rev it a couple of times like the asshole I am, then screech off into the night.

  “You drive like a maniac,” she says, her eyes now closed.

  I roll my eyes. Whatever.

  “And for the record, I’m fine even though you ruined my night,” she states when I don’t answer.

  I know ignoring a woman can prove to be lethal, who knows what she’s capable of like this, though I think I like sober Morgan as opposed to drunk Morgan and that’s a conundrum all in itself.

  “You don’t seem fine. In fact, I’m pretty sure I just saved you from a very unwanted advance for the second time tonight, I don’t see how that’s ruining it,” I say matter-of-factly.

  She lets out that laugh again. “Thank God you were there to save me, my knight in not so shining armor.”

  Her baiting me doesn’t do anything for my temper. She’s making it all the more difficult for me to not lose it.

  “You’re impossible,” I mumble.

  I feel her shift in her seat to face me. “Oh, he speaks,” she replies and I refrain from pushing her back into the chair and telling her to be quiet. “You know you’re kind of cute when you’re pissed off though.”

  I give her a side-eye. She must be really smashed if she’s suddenly giving me a compliment out of the blue like that, but Morgan is a lot like an out of control merry-go-round, one you can’t seem to get off of.

  “Trust me when I say that was me just warming up.”

  “Ooh, macho,” she laughs, flexing her arms.

  “Maybe in future you should keep drinking to a bare minimum since it’s clear you can’t hold your liquor,” I retort. “One would suggest stopping before you hit Formica.”

  She narrows her eyes. “I take it back, you’re not cute at all, you’re a stupid head who doesn’t give a crap about me or what happens as long as you have me contained in a box just like my father does.”

  Oh, these poor little rich girls and their first world problems.

  I shake my head. “A stupid head?” I repeat, trying out the words. God give me strength.

  She waves a hand at me. “Yes, and what’s more, I’m telling my father that you hauled my ass out of the club and embarrassed me in front of my friends.”

  I’ll tell my father? Please.

  “Good, but since I own the club, it won’t really matter, plus since you’ve already tried to have me fired and I’m still here is a testament that your father trusts me more than he does you,” I fire back. “So, I’m sure he won’t have a problem with it once I tell him some loser was groping you all night and trying to get into your pants.”

  She gapes at me. “You are disgusting, Jax.”

  “I’m disgusting?” I baulk, I know it’s pointless when she’s inebriated but I can’t help it. “What about him? He was the one with his hands all over you and his mouth touching you.”

  I let out a slow, controlled breath and grip the steering wheel with force. This isn’t going how I wanted it to go; I almost wish she’d pass out so I could ride back to the apartment in peace.

  She cocks her head a few moments later. “Wait, you ow
n the club?”

  “Yes,” I reply through gritted teeth.

  I don’t know who I am anymore when she’s around; I don’t know why I’m so angry.

  “Is that why you suggested it to Jolie?”

  “Oh, don’t look so shocked,” I mock. “You were fine with it five minutes ago in the VIP lounge with free shots and food, it’s a cool club, you enjoyed your night, up until that loser tried to fondle you, so quit complaining.”

  She turns to face the front. “I just didn’t see you as a nightclub owner.”

  “There’s plenty of things you don’t know about me,” I mutter. Or that she’ll never know about me more like.

  “Like what?” she asks and yawns, resting her head back on the seat.

  I ignore her as I lean over to the heater and turn it on, it’s cold out tonight and she’s shivering.

  She’s silent for a long time and I realize she’s fallen asleep.

  Peace at last, thank God.

  It isn’t long before I’m pulling up outside her building; I lift her out of the passenger seat and carry her in my arms towards the door.

  “Hey, Jaxon,” says the night porter.

  “Hi, Ray. She had a few too many drinks,” I explain. “Ladies night, free cocktails.”

  “Girls will be girls,” he tells me as I nod and he helpfully hits the elevator button. Once inside, we ride silently until she begins to stir in my arms. She weighs nothing, and for the first time since I met her, I realize how angelic she looks when she’s not ruining it by verbal insults. I take it back; I think I like her like this, but maybe that’s because she’s quiet and not hurling abuse at me.

  Her eyes pop open and I look down at her. “Morning.”

  She wiggles in my arms and slaps a hand on my chest. “Jaxon! Put me down!” she demands when she realizes where she is. I do as she asks and she wobbles as I put her on her feet, she reaches out to hold my forearms as I smirk.

  “Wasn’t going to let you sleep in the car, was I? That wouldn’t be very gentleman-like of me.”

  She opens her mouth then closes it again. I really hope she’s not feeling queasy, a terrible thought runs through my head, I need to get her inside her apartment just in case she decides to puke, no way am I cleaning that up.

  We stop at her floor and I turn her by the shoulders and march her out of the elevator and towards her door, she can’t exactly be trusted to walk by herself.

  “I can take it from here,” she says, almost walking into the wall the minute I let go. I keep my hands on her shoulders and guide her to the right door.

  “Sure about that, MJ?”

  She turns and points at me in a drunken slur. “You know what your problem is?” she snarks, swaying like the cutest fallen angel I’ve ever seen.

  “I only have one?” I reply as she fumbles around in the doorway trying to get the card out of her purse.

  “You’re self-righteous, Jaxon,” she states. “You don’t know shit about me.”

  I resist the urge to take the purse from her and find the damn thing myself. I need to get her inside and into bed so she can sleep it off and I can go home.

  “Is that so?”

  “Yes, that’s so, I don’t need you to escort me anywhere.”

  I hold my hands up in surrender. “You sure about that? I got you home in one piece, not that you’d be grateful about that.” I mutter that last part wondering if I should dive my hand in her purse and find the fucking key myself.

  She finally locates it and swipes the card at the panel. For someone who doesn’t want me around, she makes no attempt to slam the door in my face, which I’d be happy with now that she’s on her feet and moving.

  “The problem with all the men in my life is that they all try to control me,” she goes on. I’m not sure I wanted a fascinating lesson in our cultural differences or her romantic escapades either but it seems I don’t have a choice. “Like I’m just some stupid little toy to be played with for a while, do this, Morgan, don’t do that, Morgan, say pretty please, Morgan…”

  I walk on in behind her as she drops her purse in the hallway, the contents scatter across the floor, her shoes follow. I step over them as she begins to undress and I’m not sure if I should just turn around and get the hell out of here. I mean, she’s fine now; I got her home in one piece, safely, albeit very drunk, but still, she’s breathing and unharmed. I can successfully say I did my job.

  “Well, your father does actually care about you. I can’t speak for the other men in your life.”

  She laughs like that’s hilarious. “My last boyfriend sucked ass.”

  Oh no. Are we about to go down memory lane?

  I watch as she dumps her coat over the back of the sofa and then turns to the left toward her bedroom. I tell myself to stop moving and get the hell out of there.

  “Oh, yeah, why was that?” I may as well play with her a bit longer. Too much alcohol is like truth serum and I’d love to get the dirt on what she’s got hidden in those deep, dark closets of her mind.

  “He wasn’t very kind,” she tells me. “And he had a foul temper, he thought he was better than me, he liked to pretend he knew everything and I knew nothing, he’s a cheat and a liar…. and he sucked in bed.”

  My eyes go wide behind her back.

  “Good job you dumped his ass then.” Is all I can manage.

  She snorts and I can see she’s unbuttoning the front of her extremely short dress, oh holy smokes. I stop walking as she continues on her way.

  “Men just don’t know what women need,” she goes on.

  Christ.

  “Some men do,” I reply… well, it’s true. A few. Like me.

  “Ha,” she laughs. “That’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “I should go,” I say but it falls on deaf ears.

  “Why am I only attracted to cruel men?” she wonders out loud. “Do I have a sign on my head saying douche bag alert? Sign up, get your tickets here?”

  “Careful,” I warn. “That’s my nickname, you don’t want to mix your metaphors, I might get the wrong idea.”

  She snorts again like that’s never happening. Even drunk, she still hates me.

  My feet just won’t fucking move, I watch on and I know it’s wrong.

  She turns and spins on me and fuck me if she hasn’t got the blouse part of her dress wide open.

  Her tits sit perfectly in a black lacy bra with almost sheer cups, they’re a good handful, it’s a truly magnificent sight, truly fucking beautiful. Just the right size to suck on and play with. I don’t need a float parade to tell me I’m instantly hard just looking at her creamy, beautiful skin. I make a point of somehow keeping my gaze at eye level, though all I’m thinking about is touching her where I shouldn’t.

  “I mean, you’re a man about town, tell me why I attract such losers?”

  I refrain from telling her that her smart-ass attitude and stuck-up snob behavior might have something to do with it. Or the fact she just has shitty taste in men but I don’t need a stiletto thrown at my head. God knows she has enough of those in her wardrobe, it could be an avalanche.

  “Maybe you’re sending out the wrong signals, MJ.” I give her a one eyebrow lift. “Attracting the wrong type of guys by default, lots of women do it.”

  She laughs out loud. “You’re starting to sound like my father.”

  “He’s a smart man,” I argue. “Maybe he’s right.”

  She laughs again and wobbles this time. “He’s been married like five hundred times, please spare me the lecture.”

  I take a step back as she moves closer to me.

  “Why are you really here?” she asks, her focus suddenly shifting.

  My throat feels dry as she looks at me earnestly.

  “You already asked me that once before and I told you why.”

  Move your feet, asshole.

  I let her take a step closer, her rack is so damn fine but I strain to keep my gaze on her face. What I’d give to brush my thu
mb over her hard nipples, to pull the fabric aside and go to town on her bare skin.…

  “Oh, yes, because you respect my father and when he calls, people come running, even you.”

  “That’s not exactly true,” I argue. “And what do you mean even me?”

  She ignores the question. “How much is he paying you?” her eyes drop to my mouth and I know I’m fucked.

  I realize, not for the first time tonight, how beautiful her lips are and how much I’d love to taste her and so much more. This is getting dangerous and my thoughts are out of control, I need to rein it in. Unlike her, I can because I haven’t been drinking like it’s the Wild West.

  I don’t know when or how this attraction happened but it’s real and its scaring the shit out of me.

  “What does that matter?” I retort.

  “Is it just for the money?”

  Why does she want to know this? I don’t get why it matters, it’s not like she cares about anyone but herself.

  “You’re drunk,” I say, trying and failing to change the subject. “And no, money isn’t everything; I never do anything without intent and purpose.”

  She’s close now. I can smell the subtle scent of her perfume.

  I let her raise a hand and it comes up to touch the collar of my shirt. I continue to stare at her.

  “I’m really not that drunk,” she says and gives me a playful wink.

  “You must be if you’re actually being nice to me,” I mock, knowing it won’t last.

  Something touches her eyes but it’s not her usual anger or her defensive streak taking fold, she actually looks kind of… sad. I’m shocked she can feel such an emotion, but then again, she had no shortage of shots and cocktails thrown in the mix. I’m surprised she hasn’t face-planted by now.

  “I’m sorry,” she says out of nowhere.

  I cock my head. “For what?”

  “For everything,” she splutters. “For all the shit that went down when we were kids, for… for being such a bitch and being so naïve and… well… awful.”

  I go to remove her hand but her other one snakes out and grabs my wrist.

  I swallow hard. “That’s ancient history like I said before a million times,” I say in a whisper. “Water under the bridge, none of that matters now.”