by BJ Harvey
“But maybe getting together near campus isn’t a good idea either. That Chelsea isn’t dumb. I doubt she bought your excuse about us meeting just for the assignment.”
His expression turns serious. “We’re covered in that regard, beautiful. There’s nothing anyone can do to us.”
“Nothing official. It doesn’t mean they can’t ruffle some feathers and poke some bears,” I say.
He lifts his chin, his amber eyes capturing me as they bore into mine. “I’ll make you a promise,” he says. “In all meetings relating to school, we’ll make sure we’re around people.” He steps in so we’re almost touching. “In all matters relating to us and me winning you over…” he looks down between us, his perusing gaze like scorching flames licking first down, then back up my body, “. . . all bets are off. Hold on to your panties, Barbie. Ken’s got his eyes on the prize.”
He meets my eyes, and the look of absolute determination in them makes my breath catch.
“I’m not about to drop the ball now when everything I want is finally within reach. But I will say that while we are taking things slow, it doesn’t mean I’m not gonna enjoy driving you crazy by telling you all the things we’re going to do once we get there.” With a dazzling smile that has me near-on dripping with need, he lifts his chin and steps back, turning around and walking away.
My eyes drop to his mighty fine ass and I watch him go, letting out a long, slow breath as my lips curve up.
Yes, I definitely think I’ve met my match with Jax, and I can’t wait to see what his next move will be.
I also can’t wait to see what he’s going to do to win the chase because he’s halfway there already.
Ronnie
Jax—What are you doing on Saturday night?
Ronnie—Washing my hair?
Jax—Can you do that after I cook you dinner?
Ronnie—You can cook?
Jax—Have you met my mother? There was no way she was going to raise four sons and a daughter without all of us being able to cook, clean, and look after ourselves.
Ronnie—Doesn’t Cohen live at home?
Jax—Co left home then returned. He’s a work in progress.
Ronnie—I’ll reserve my decision on whether to accept your kind invitation or not based on whether your version of cooking is hot dogs or fine dining.
Jax—Don’t knock hot dogs. They can be very delicious when done right.
Ronnie—Important and vital question: hot dogs with or without ketchup?
Jax—What are you, an animal? No ketchup can go anywhere near a Chicago hot dog. That’s sacrilege and warrants immediate eviction from the city limits.
Ronnie—So does that mean you’re NOT cooking me hot dogs?
Jax—I’m cooking dinner, not a seventh-inning snack… unless eating you as a snack is on the table?
Ronnie—Does my Dream House still have a table for me to put my snack on?
Jax—And now I need a cold shower. A man can only take so much. Saturday, 7 p.m. Come prepared to eat.
Ronnie—Oh, I’m always ready for that; it’s you who took THAT off the table.
Jax—I’m trying to be well-behaved here.
Ronnie—I know. And it’s so much fun. Just don’t have too much of it without me. I prefer being an active participant.
Seven o’clock Saturday night, I’m once again on the doorstep of the glorious pink lady. She’s starting to be stripped bare though, which is both sad and exciting. The idea of such a majestic queen reclaiming her former glory is appealing just as much as the idea of her being made over to continue her reign for years to come. I’m excited to see her transformation.
When the door swings open, Jax fills the void with his matching beauty. I’ve dated extensively in the past: a lot of suitable future husbands in my parents’ eyes and a few antichrists dressed up in Tom Ford, but also some ruggedly handsome men who I’ve been genuinely attracted to. None of them hold a torch to the palpable chemistry I’ve found with the man standing in front of me. It’s part of the reason I wanted him to work to get me.
He gives me butterflies at the mere thought of seeing him. A message with his name on my phone makes my heart skip a beat, and his touch sets my body on fire until I’m sure I’ll explode.
But it’s not purely physical, which makes it all the more special to me. He cares about me, about school and relationships and future dynamics. I haven’t had to set any rules because he thought ahead and made sure that nothing could happen between us that will hurt me or what I’m working towards. April told me he had already asked her about my former career, the one I walked away from, and she explained exactly what she said and in what detail. I’ve been pleasantly surprised that he hasn’t broached the subject as yet, as if he knows it’s something that should be brought up by me.
He’s giving me a level of control over this thing between us that I have not felt in my past, and the freedom that he is gifting me is as attractive as that gorgeous smile he’s sending my way.
“Are you just going to stand there and ogle me like you did in class? Or are you going to grace me with your presence in the kitchen?” he says, holding his hand out with a smirk.
I lace my fingers with his and step inside when he gives me room and shuts the door behind us. “You mean there is still a kitchen to cook in?”
“Only a stove. And I may have called by mom and dad’s house this afternoon to borrow some dishes and utensils.”
“Aren’t we a good boy scout.”
“Well I couldn’t exactly set up a fire and cook fine dining for you in the living room. That would make Jamie’s head explode.”
“And dating his fiancée’s best friend hasn’t already?”
“Ah… I haven’t exactly brought it up, and neither has he, so I’m guessing April hasn’t told him.”
“You don’t think telling him yourself would be better?” I ask, surprised at this revelation.
We reach the end of the hallway—which looks more like a building site than it did on my last visit—and enter the kitchen. This room is not as broken down as I had expected. There’s still a countertop and cabinets, minus their doors. The freestanding stove has two saucepans on top, one big and one not so big but deep, and the smell that hits me is divine.
“You weren’t lying about being able to cook.”
He releases my hand and moves to the counter. He lifts a wooden spoon in one hand while taking the lid off one of the pots. “Nope. It relaxes me. It helps quiet the mind.”
I cross the room, standing to the side and peeking over his shoulder. “So tell me, what gastronomic creation do I get to try tonight?”
“Spaghetti bolognese a la Jax.”
“I seem to recall liking the taste of Jax,” I quip, nuzzling his shoulder through his tee and giggling when he groans in amused frustration.
He looks down, his eyes filled with heat—and it’s not from the stovetop. “You’re killing the gentleman in me.”
I rest a splayed hand on his abs, lifting up on my toes, bringing my mouth to his ear. “A gentleman in the street and a freak in the sheets is my favorite kind of Jax.” I brush my lips against the hinge of his jaw before ending his misery and stepping back, putting some much-needed distance between us. “Do you need help with anything?”
“Nope. I just needed to stir the sauce then let it simmer for a little longer,” he says, replacing the lid and putting the spoon down on top of a folded kitchen towel. “Now, let’s go get comfortable.”
“Yes,” I cheer, making a show out of doing a fist pump.
Jax chuckles, shaking his head at me, his eyes shining with amusement. “I hope you’re not too disappointed with my cooking.”
“I’m not sure anything you do could ever leave me wanting,” I reply suggestively.
“You’re killing me, Barbie.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” I hum as he sweeps his arm out, ushering me through the door leading toward the living roo
m.
Stepping inside, I stop dead in my tracks, and it’s not just because of the numerous candles lining the room, their light flickering against the bare walls. There’s also a plush, grey blanket spread out on the floor in the middle of the big space. Sitting beside it are two large wine glasses and a bottle of white.
A pair of strong arms circle my waist as Jax stops behind me. His warmth cloaks my back when he moves in close and rests his chin on my shoulder.
We stand there for a while, comfortable silence stretching between us.
“What are you thinking?” he asks, his breath warm against my skin.
“I’m thinking I’ve grossly underestimated you.”
He chuckles and presses a kiss to my neck. “I guess you like it then?”
“I think I’m losing the battle to resist the chase.”
“Don’t resist,” he murmurs, soft and rough. “Just go with the flow. I meant it when I said I want to build this. It’s not just about sex and physical attraction. It’s more.” Jax’s tone is stronger now, and his emphasis on the word ‘more’ sparks those butterflies of mine to life.
“I like that,” I say, turning my head.
He smiles against my lips. “Good. Because there’s so much more where that came from.”
We’re so close now I can barely think straight, especially with his heat at my back, his lips on my neck, peppering barely there pecks.
“Does more include sex?” I rasp. “Because I’m all onboard for the sex.”
He chuckles as he straightens, putting his hand on my shoulder and turning me around. Then his mouth crashes down on mine and he kisses me long and deep—just how I like it. He eases his lips off mine, and I unashamedly chase them, not wanting to stop.
His amused gaze drops to my pout. “All in good time, Barbie. I’m enjoying the challenge of the chase.”
Pulling back, I tilt my head. “Is it really a challenge if you’ve already had me?”
He dips down so he’s all I can see, his eyes a darker, deeper brown now. “I’m not going to stop until I know you’re not going anywhere. When I know there’s nowhere else you ever want to be.”
I stop breathing. That’s the only explanation. Because five long seconds later, my eyes roll back and I lose my legs from under me.
“Shit,” Jax curses before I sag against him and everything goes black.
“Ronnie… Ronnie… dammit… Co? Yeah, Ronnie just fainted. It’s been two minutes and she’s still out.”
I’m not… well, not really. My limbs feel heavy but warm. Jax’s heartbeat thrums against my side.
I slowly open my eyes to find my head resting on his shoulder, his arm wrapped tightly around my back, his hand on my hip, and his deep voice rumbling in his throat. “Wait. I think she’s waking up,” he says, obviously on the phone to his EMT brother, Cohen. I try to move into a sitting position but a wave of dizziness hits me. Great, a dash of vertigo. Just what I need. “Yeah, I’ll call you back if I need you… or I could take her to the ER. I know. Thanks, brother. Talk soon. Bye,” he says, ending the call.
His hand comes to cup my face as he shifts sideways on the couch where I now realize we’re both sitting.
“Hi,” I whisper.
He smiles, and I feel like I could move mountains and scale tall buildings—light-headed or not—as long as he keeps looking at me the way he is right now. I snuggle in closer and shift so my head is nestled in the crook of his neck. When I sigh in complete contentment, he chuckles and rubs his hand up and down my back.
“I didn’t expect you to literally fall at my feet, beautiful,” he says.
“What can I say? You blew me away,” I reply with a smile, pressing my lips to the pulse in his throat and staying there.
“Do I need to take you to the ER? I caught you, so you didn’t hit your head, but if you want to go get checked out, I can drive you. Or see if Cade can call ’round here? Even Cohen said he’d come over.”
I lean my head back and meet his eyes. “I forgot to eat. I’ve always been a fainter. Ever since I was a kid.”
“Like one of those goats you see falling over on the internet?” he asks, his lips twitching.
“Yep. That’s me. Freak me out with romantic gestures and I’ll literally swoon at your feet,” I say, giggling.
He runs his index finger down the side of my head, the tip tracing my hairline and hooking a loose piece of hair behind my ear. “I wanted to knock your socks off but not like that.”
I shake my head, closing my eyes when he dips his chin to brush his lips against mine.
“The last thing I want to do is move, but I really need to go turn dinner off. Can I get you a glass of water? We’ll save the wine for another night.”
“Okay,” I reply softly, meeting his warm gaze.
God, I could fall for this man.
He gently moves me off his lap and stands, bending over to put me back where he was sitting against the arm of the sofa. Then he does the unexpected, reaching down and grabbing the grey blanket from the floor and draping it over me.
Too late. I’ve already fallen.
“Call out if you need me, and if dinner isn’t ruined, I’m going to feed you then put you to bed.”
I smirk but his narrowed eyes tell me it’s not adult playtime.
“To sleep. I don’t want you driving home by yourself, and I’d rather hold you all night and make sure you’re okay.”
“I’m fine, Jax. Honestly, it’s happened before. I just need to get my sugar levels up.”
“Can you do this… for me?” There’s absolutely no arguing with the look on his face. If all I have to do is stay the night in bed with him—not a hardship—to make him feel better and wipe the worry out of his eyes, then there’s no question.
“Yes. And water would be lovely. Oh, and if dinner is ruined, I’ll order takeout. Just being here with you is enough. The candles, the wine, and picnic were awesome though. We’ll have to do that next time,” I say, smiling up at him.
“Fuck it,” he says, bracing one hand on the couch by my shoulder, the other tangling in my hair. Then he’s kissing me, or devouring me, to be more accurate, and I may feel weak and a little light-headed, but I give as good as I can until I melt into the couch. He kissed me pliant. And he can do that any damn day he wants in the future.
Fainting and burned dinner aside, as far as first official dates go—or maybe it’s our second—it’s absolutely perfect. There’s absolutely nowhere else I’d rather be and no one else I would want to be with. So to me, it’s a win—win.
Jax
After ordering Chinese takeout, we camp out on the couch, sitting side by side, our legs entwined. Then I offer her some clothes and the shower, and I meet her in my still pink bedroom upstairs.
I crawl in behind her in my boxer shorts—sleeping naked would’ve been far too tempting—and she is asleep within minutes of me spooning her.
Opening my eyes on Sunday morning, the first thing I do is smile. That’s because in my arms is a sleeping Ronnie but also, her fingers are laced with mine around her chest. Even in our sleep we’re drawn to each other, having not moved overnight. I lie there, not willing to move because I don’t want to lose this moment.
“I know you’re awake,” Ronnie murmurs sleepily, squeezing her grip on my hand, but not letting go.
“Only just. I was lying here enjoying the moment.”
“It is a very enjoyable moment.” She pushes her back against my front, making me groan as my morning wood is cradled by her ass. “Part of you feels like you have other ideas on how to make it even better,” she teases.
“We agreed to take it slow,” I say roughly, unable to stop from rolling my hips with hers.
“This is slow,” she says breathlessly, grabbing my hand at her waist and moving it under my T-shirt she’s wearing.
When my hand touches the soft skin of her breast, I curse. “Damn. Doesn’t feel slow,” I say, my body
taking over as I roll onto my back, bringing her with me so she’s lying on top. With two hands free, I cup her face and turn it to the side, craning my neck to kiss her lips and thrust my tongue between them.
When she moans into my mouth, my hips piston up, slipping between her legs and gliding against her damp underwear. “Fuckkkk,” I groan when she clenches her thighs together, tightening the grip on my cock.
“Definitely… not… slow… now,” she pants, her tongue rubbing against mine. I need to stop this before I give in and slide into that wet heat I’ve been craving since I first pushed inside her two weeks ago.
I release her mouth, and my hands drop to her waist. I lift her up my body so her legs are spread over my shoulders. I shift down the bed, hooking one arm over her hip to shove her underwear to the side. My fingers find her clit just as I dip my tongue inside of her and take my fill.
Her back arches, one hand slamming against the headboard. I press back and forth, moving her hips and growling when she starts riding my face. Her scent drives me on, her raspy moans making my cock as hard as stone. She’s all I can taste and smell, and like an addict, I can’t get enough.
When she leans forward and wraps her fist around my cock, moving up and down the shaft in firm, long strokes, I know it’s going to be a race to the finish, and I’m not a man who likes to lose.
I suck and lick, my fingers circling her clit faster. I push my tongue deeper inside, my hips bucking up into her hand. When cold air hits my skin and her hot, wet mouth surrounds the head of my cock, she shows me she’s willing to play dirty to win.
Then again, so am I.
I tip her pelvis and flick over her swollen bundle of nerves at rapid speed, pressing my index finger into her and curling the tip against her G-spot. Her body stills as she takes me to the root then she explodes, her body rocking with her orgasm, my mouth dipping to her sex to lap it all up. That’s all it takes for me to climax, my muscles contracting with every pulse as she continues to glide her lips up and down my cock.