JAX (The Beckett Boys, Book Two) (5 page)

My phone buzzes again almost immediately.
I’m almost scared to discover what u might lose next.

That makes me laugh out loud. I write,
Pants come to mind.

There’s a pause. Then,
Sounds like u lost your mind, trying to flirt with me on the day of the Lord. For shame, Jax.
Before I can reply, I get another message.
I’m guessing someone’s bored?

Someone was thinking about u.
As soon as I hit send, I instantly want to take it back. It’s too revealing. Too serious.

There’s a long pause. Maybe she won’t reply. I put my phone back on the coffee table and try to pretend I don’t care. Try to pretend I wasn’t feeling charged up just from this brief text exchange.

But the truth is, she’s fun. I like her wit. I like sparring with her. Seeing what she might say next. Brooklyn isn’t the kind of girl who usually chases me. The kind who doesn’t want interesting conversation, just wants a good time in bed.

Brooklyn challenges me. And I find it refreshing and a little scary, if I’m honest with myself.

She pushes me out of my comfort zone. Doesn’t take my bullshit. Calls me out on it, in fact.

When my phone vibrates, I find my hand jerking toward the device to see if that’s her replying.

I admit, I was surprised to get your text. Didn’t think u would be thinking about me.

I can feel her emotions pouring through the words, her insecurity, and the fact that she met me back with her own vulnerability makes me write back,
Like I could forget pressing u against the wall and making u come.

Silence for a moment, then,
That was rather memorable. Glad I’m not the only one who’s thought about it.

So she’s been thinking about that night, too. Does she want more? Something tells me to push her a little bit.
Meet me,
I write. I need to see her. Either to get her off my mind once and for all, or to explore this sexual tension between us.

Is that a good idea?
she writes back.

It’s the best idea. Besides, u owe me for rescuing u on the dance floor.
I hit send.

LOL. Your ego is amazing—how did I forget about that? I don’t owe u a thing, mister. But u already know that.

I lob back,
Then meet me bc u are so attracted to me u can’t resist my charm.

A couple of minutes tick by. Then, she sends,
You’re insane. Fine. Coffee.

Monday?
I want to see her today, right now, this very second, but I’m not going to fucking give that much of myself away. I can maintain some modicum of pride, at least.

She writes,
I’m free until 4.
She then tells me the name and address of a coffee place on her campus.

See you at noon. Wear something slutty,
I write back with a grin, knowing it’ll just irritate her. I sink into my couch and stare at the TV and tell myself it’s nothing more than a casual date between two people attracted to each other.

Tell myself I’m not looking forward way too much to seeing that smile again in person.

I
stand
in front of the narrow full-length mirror hanging on the back of my dorm room door and stare at myself. My white shirt is flowing and thin, with a tank top underneath, and I have on a floral skirt that skates just above my knees. It’s cute. It’s decent. Totally appropriate for a coffee date.

So why do I want to take it off and wear something else?

I’ve already tried on four other outfits and discarded them. Too prudish. Too bland. Too…me. Instead, I snuck and borrowed this skirt from my roommate, Gail—not that she’ll care. She’ll just be happy I’m actually going on a date.

Or whatever the hell this is with Jax.

I glance at my phone. Ten to noon. Screw it. I’m going to wear this, and that’s how it is. It looks fine. It’s just coffee, for God’s sake.

I slip into flats and close my dorm room door behind me, trot down the stairs and head across campus to Bean, the coffee shop on campus. The front door dings open, and there’s already a decent crowd in here. I spy a table in the back and run over to drop my backpack on it, then hop in line and grab a coffee.

My hands are trembling a bit as I hand the barista the cash. I feel this strange vibration trembling across my skin.

Anticipation.

Jax is going to be on my campus any minute now.

A sour thought creeps into my mind, and I can’t seem to shake it off. What if he forgets and flakes out, the way he did with the car? When he was having sex with someone else up in his room and forgot all about it. About me.

What the hell am I doing? Is this stupid of me? I can’t help but feel drawn to him. But if he doesn’t show up today, I might die of mortification. And it would be my own fault, because I knew going into this how he is and I let myself fall for it.

Whatever, I tell myself nonchalantly as I grab my coffee and head to my table. I needed a break from studying anyway. If he doesn’t show up, I have the books for my next class in my bag. I can get some good note-taking time in. My entire life doesn’t hinge around the arrogant hotness of—

The door opens, and in walks Jax, wearing jeans that look handmade just for his body, and a navy blue shirt that molds to his chest. My lungs squeeze to the size of grapes. He’s here. God, he’s here, and he’s walking right toward me, and his eyes are so hot and heavy on mine that I can see his desire radiating from him.

That spark is there, the one I thought I’d blown out of proportion over the last week as I kept replaying the reception over and over. The one I thought was just a single incident. But no, the spark is here and it’s vibrant and I want to crawl across the table and jump on him, despite how insane that might be.

Jax slides into the seat across from me and quirks a smile, eyeing my cup for a moment before gliding his attention back to my face in a slow crawl that lingers at my breasts. “You didn’t wait for me.”

“I didn’t think you knew how to tell time,” I say archly, which elicits a laugh. “I might die of thirst.”

He claps a hand over his heart and says in false pain, “Lady, you are too cruel. Cruel, but accurate. Smith would agree with you on that.”

“How’s your brother doing?” I ask.

Jax leans across the table and one hand reaches out to stroke the knuckles of my hand gripping the coffee cup. My skin comes alive from the touch. “He’s fine,” Jax says. “Turning into a boring married guy. But let’s talk about something else.”

“What do you want to talk about?” I ask, not surprised to hear how breathy I sound. God, his proximity is magnetic. I can’t stop staring at his face. He has to know how hot he is. And yet he’s here across the table from me.

“I want to talk about…what kind of coffee you drink.” His mouth twitches.

“I’m not sure you can handle my coffee,” I say. Who is this flirty girl I’ve turned into with him? This isn’t like me at all. But when I’m near him, I just can’t stop it from coming out.

“You’re probably right,” he concedes, leaning back in the chair, resting his forearms on the table. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”

“I like it strong and hot,” I say with a grin.

His lips curl into an easy smile. “Yeah, you seem like a black-coffee kind of person to me.”

I miss his touch now that he’s pulled back, but then in the next instant, I chastise myself for being so ridiculous. I’m better than this—I’m not one to be swayed by a smooth talker.

“Are you going to get one?” I ask him, trying to compose myself.

He shakes his head, and his eyes get this strange intensity. “Nope. Already had way too much this morning. I came to hang out with you.”

For some reason, the answer makes me flush all over. Just when Jax is being flirty and flippant and I think I’m in control of the situation, he throws out some comment that seems sincere and honest, and it knocks me off balance.

I bite my lower lip, which draws his attention to my mouth. I see his pupils flare. God. He’s so sexually reactive, and it makes me respond in kind. My core is already pulsing just sitting across the table from him, and I can feel my panties getting a little wet. At least I have a table between us to protect me from letting things go too far.

“You have the fucking sexiest lips I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs. “I’ve been thinking about that mouth for days now.”

The breath catches in my lungs. I press my palms to my lap and squeeze my thighs. The arousal is hitting me harder now, with my pulse picking up, my clit beginning to throb. I can’t help but remember how it felt to have his fingers inside me.

I want more.

“My youngest brother, Asher, is a junior in college,” he says, and I blink at the sudden topic change. “He’s a football player. Acing his classes.” I see the pride clear on his face, and I feel my heart tug in response. It’s evident how much he loves his family. “Do you have any siblings?”

“My sister, Della.”

“Is she in school?”

“No, she’s working. She has a toddler—she’s a single mom.” Thinking about my sister makes me feel a sudden surge of guilt. She’d be so disappointed in me right now, saying I should be learning from her example, not repeating it.

She already made this mistake of getting involved with a man who only wanted fun and didn’t want to deal with any real life consequences.

I shift in my seat and glance down at the table. Should I go? I don’t want to, but I can feel myself weakening around Jax. Wanting more from him.

The other night was supposed to be a one-time event. That’s all.

“That must be a handful to deal with,” Jax says, breaking through my confusion. “And on her own, too. It’s not easy, I’m sure. I don’t know how my dad did it, to be honest. Raising us three boys alone…we were insane.” He shakes his head and chuckles, and there’s a bittersweet look in his eyes that makes my heart clench.

“Did your mom pass away?” I ask.

His face hardens, and he stares over my shoulder. “No. She left.”

My cheeks burst into flame. “God, I’m sorry. It’s none of my business. What’s your brother’s major?”

“Sports medicine.” Some of the tension leaks out of his shoulders, but the stiffness is still there. “He wants to get into coaching. He’ll be good at it—he’s a fantastic athlete. Way more than I or Smith ever were.”

“So you decided to not go to school?” I’m finding myself more and more curious about this man. What makes him tick. I can see his mother’s abandonment has impacted him—he still feels very strongly about it. Bringing her up clearly touched a nerve.

His eyes land on mine again, and my chest tightens at the weight in his stare. I can’t read his emotions right now. “Schoolin’ wasn’t right for me, darling. We can’t all be Shakespeare.”

“Intelligence isn’t reflected by a college degree,” I reply. I absolutely believe it. My mom didn’t go to college, but she’s one of the smartest people I know. She can talk circles around her friends about politics, sports, and books. “I know lots of idiots taking courses on campus. I’ve seen people in my class turn in papers with their own names misspelled.”

That makes him laugh. “And these folks are going to be our future doctors, lawyers, and presidents. Scary. I may go move to the mountains and live in a cabin.”

“Nah, you’d hate not having a bunch of girls around you,” I tease. “Where else would you get your ego inflated?”

“You put me in my place, Brooklyn,” he says, shaking his head. He leans forward again and this time touches my hand and slides his fingers along the small bones of my wrist. He squeezes there. “Maybe I need a little more of that in my life.”

My throat is tight and I’m unsure what to say. I can feel my heart slamming against my chest. Could Jax want more from me? Before I can speak, my roommate and her girlfriend stand beside the table, staring down at me and eyeing Jax with more than a little interest.

“Brooklyn. Hi.” Gail’s grinning down, a wicked flare in her eyes, a smirk painted on her face. “Introduce me to your friend.”

Jax stands and offers his hand. “I’m Jax. And you lovely ladies are…?”

“Gay as fuck,” Gail’s girlfriend, Samantha, says with a laugh as she slides into the seat beside Jax. “But you’re cute, and I can see how that works for you on straight girls. Good for you, Brooklyn. He really is ripped like you said.”

My face is burning now. Shit. I told them about the coffee date this morning, confessing how cute Jax is and how I was a bit nervous to meet him. Their boisterous affirmation that it was going to be fine helped sooth me a bit.

Before I know what’s happening, Jax has moved to sit beside me, leaving his seat open for Gail. I feel the heat of his body against the length of mine, our thighs pressed together, and I pull myself away when I realize I’m swaying toward him. But oh God, he smells so good, that cologne slightly spicy, and I can see he shaved and his jawline is strong—

“Earth to Brooklyn,” Gail says with a guffaw. “Are you still alive?” She grabs my coffee and takes a swig. Blanches and slides it back toward me. “Ugh, you ever heard of sugar? This shit is nasty.”

“Get your own, jerk,” I reply in a mock icy tone. Gail is crass and crazy and not like me at all, but she’s been a good roommate and she’s pretty funny when she isn’t hamming it up, like she is right now for Jax. I can tell she’s trying to see how he reacts to her. It’s her way of judging people—if they can’t handle her at her worst, they don’t deserve her at her best. That quote, a favorite of hers, is on a Marilyn Monroe poster hanging on her side of our room.

“I’m happy to get you guys coffee if you want,” Jax offers.

Samantha shakes her head. “Nah, Gail’s just being a pain. We were sitting at another table and saw you guys over here, so we decided to crash your party.”

“There’s no party to crash,” I say smoothly. “Jax’s brother married my cousin last weekend.”

Gail nods. “Heard it was a lot of fun.” The insinuation in her tone makes me edgy. I didn’t tell her what happened against the wall, but it sure sounds like I did.

Then there’s the strong heat of Jax’s hand on my bare thigh. His fingers slide along the tender inner skin of my leg, his thumb caressing my kneecap. “It was a great time. I got to know Brooklyn pretty well,” he says.

My pulse throbs throughout my body. Shit, he’s getting me turned on, and they have no idea he’s touching me under the table. I feel my pussy clench and grow wetter, and I swallow and try to keep the smile even on my face.

Try not to give it away.

Because while part of me wants to tell him no, to stop touching me like this, the rest of me has been aching for his hand on my bare skin for over a week now. And the fact that we might get caught, that someone might see…it ramps up the dirtiness of the moment for me.

He squeezes my thigh and inches higher up.

The three of them make small talk, with me inserting generic “uh-huhs” and “yeahs” in to fake like I’m paying attention. But all of my focus is on that wicked hand touching me. I don’t know how Jax does it, but he’s really good at acting like he’s not inching closer and closer to my wet core. It’s hard to even tell if this is affecting him like it is me. I should close my legs and deny him access, but I find myself spreading my thighs a bit wider, pressing my leg against his.

He shifts in his seat, the first sign of arousal in him, and the private glance he shoots me is so hot it makes me want to explode right here.

How did I think he wasn’t aroused? I can see his pulse throbbing at the base of his throat, and his hand is now gripping my thigh hard. His breathing is slightly elevated.

God, just touching my leg has made him this turned on? I ache with my own need, mingled with my own small surge of smugness. The infamous Jax Beckett, hot for me, a virgin with painfully little experience.

Then his fingers brush my apex, barely covered by wet panties, and I fight the urge to jump in shock, in raw desire. I hear him suck in a breath and his fingers push harder, nudge the fabric aside and stroke my slit.

Gail and Samantha rise. Gail gives me a long, knowing look. “So, we’re heading to class now and probably won’t be back to the room until late afternoon.”

A splash of heat surges up my throat and cheeks, and I hear Jax give a low chuckle.
Subtle, Gail.
“Have fun,” I say.

“You, too.” She winks, and the two hold hands and walk off.

Jax turns me to face him, one thigh nudged between my trembling legs. He cups my face and brings his mouth right to the shell of my ear. “I need to taste you right fucking now. Right now, Brooklyn.”

Something about his guttural command makes me say, “Yes, please.” I need it, too. Stupid, insane, maybe. But I just need one more taste of his mouth. I want to touch him this time, see what he feels like in my hand. Maybe lick him down there, if I can. I’ve not gone down on a man before, and I ache to feel him fill my mouth.

He grabs my hand and yanks me out of my seat, and I barely have time to get my bag and toss my leftover coffee in the garbage before we’re out the door. My pulse is pounding in my entire body, and my skin is tight with my need.

The walk to my room feels like it takes far too long. I want to be in there already, spread out on my bed, his body above me. I want his mouth on mine, his skin sliding along my heated flesh.