Rules of Entanglement

by Gina L. Maxwell

  Jackson emerged, crossing the open bedroom doorway with nothing but a towel…that was currently drying his hair. Vanessa clenched her teeth to prevent her mouth from hanging open at the glistening, Olympian body he’d just paraded openly. She heard the sound of a dresser drawer opening, then closing, and then cursed herself for praying he’d dress in the bathroom.

  Whistling the chorus from the Pussycat Dolls’s “Don’t Cha,” he strode back into the bathroom carrying—thank you, baby Jesus—a pair of jersey shorts and a wifebeater.

  As soon as the door closed, she groaned in frustration. She couldn’t concentrate with him around. He was a distraction and a nuisance. A really hot nuisance who almost never wore a shirt. How the hell was she supposed to focus with him strutting around half naked all the damn time like some Hawaiian god?

  If he knew she’d been staring, he hadn’t shown it, but then again, what reason would he have to go back into the bathroom naked? The tramp probably knew she’d been watching the whole time.

  She’d done her best to stay emotionally distanced from him since they left the gym. The fact that she’d been so upset over him attacking Danny didn’t sit well with her. To disapprove of how he handled something was one thing. But it was another thing entirely to feel like her insides were turning out at the possibility of him hiding violent tendencies. It should not have affected her that much.

  Which could only mean one thing: she’d let herself get emotionally invested with one Jackson Maris.

  Vanessa thought back to the cake tasting. Jackson had actually been tender with her. The softness of his lips on her hand made the room around her fade to black as she stared into the golden light of his eyes. When he fed her the cake from his fork, it seemed more intimate, more sensual, than the act warranted. And when he wiped the frosting from her lip, she’d wished he’d removed it with a kiss.

  But how did she know he hadn’t been doing all of those things for Robért’s benefit? Even worse, what if his tenderness had truly been sincere? The former made her want to kick his ass. The latter made her want to kiss him until they both forgot to breathe. Which then made her want to kick her own ass for getting the least bit sentimental when it came to that man.

  “I’m a hot mess,” she muttered to herself. And if there was one thing Vanessa Ann MacGregor hated, it was being a hot mess. On the outside or the inside. That’s why her Rules worked so well for her. It kept everything in her life the way she needed it to be.

  So what are you going to do about it, Nessie?

  There was only one thing she could think of to untangle herself. She had to avoid having sex with Jackson the rest of the week. Not that she’d tell him outright, of course. But women got out of having sex every day. They had headaches or cramps or they were too tired… She’d never used excuses before, but surely it couldn’t be that hard to convince a man you weren’t up for the occasion, so to speak.

  Just then a knock sounded on the door.

  “I’ll get it.” Jackson entered the room, giving her equal relief and disappointment, and answered the door. A few moments later he sat next to her on the couch and set a tray on the coffee table that held a bottle of Patron, two shot glasses, a saltshaker, and a bowl of lime wedges.

  “What’s all that?” she asked with a point of her disfigured pen.

  “Has it been so long since you’ve had fun that you forgot what it looks like?”

  “For your information, I have fun all the time. I’ll have you know I’m Queen Fun back home. Ask your sister.”

  “Instead of calling my poor sick sister to verify your story, why don’t you just put your money where your mouth is?”

  “I have work to do, Jackson.”

  “You’ve been working for the last several hours, including straight through dinner. It’s way past closing time, V,” he said, cracking open the bottle with a mischievous smile.

  She tried to hold it back, but at least half of the smile crept on her face anyway.

  He stopped and studied her. “What?” he asked.

  “We’re about to find out if you pass the Bonus Rule.”

  “Which is…”

  “Never date a man who can’t out-drink you in tequila.”

  He smiled widely and leaned in. “You’re going down, MacGregor.”

  Vanessa quickly weighed the pros and cons of participating in what boiled down to a pissing match involving alcohol with the man she’d recently decided was off-limits. In the Pros column: a break from work, good tequila, and taking Mr. Arrogance down a peg or two by drinking him under the table. In the Cons column: strong probability of getting drunk, thereby skewing her good judgment, and Mr. Arrogance taking her downtown to Shag Town. And that would be bad.

  On the other hand, it’d be drunken sex, and drunken sex was never about emotions or touchy-feely crap. It was crazy, awkward moves performed by inept, half-dressed individuals who ended up with bruises from falling into lamps and who almost never had anything more than a bare recollection of the night’s events. Therefore, even if worse came to worst, it still wouldn’t interfere with the new keep-her-distance rule. Perfect, she thought, smiling to herself.

  Moving her files off to the side, Vanessa situated herself sideways on the couch to face her opponent. “We’ll see who goes down, Maris. Pour.”

  Jackson uncorked the bottle, poured the tequila in the shot glasses, then picked one up and waited for her to do the same.

  Without hesitation, she raised her glass, said, “Salut,” and tossed it back.

  “No salt or lime chaser?”

  “I don’t need that stuff, but don’t let that stop you. Some people can’t handle the bite of tequila. I promise I won’t judge.”

  An evil grin curled the edges of his lips. “I didn’t order the extra stuff for me, princess.” After throwing the clear liquid down his throat, he added, “At least not for that.”

  And with that cryptic statement hanging between them, Jackson took her glass and poured them each another round.

  …

  “What do you say we make things a little more interesting?”

  Vanessa raised a brow as she poured them both their next shot. “That depends on what you mean by interesting.”

  “A harmless get-to-know-you game.”

  “A drinking game?” She actually looked excited about the prospect for a whole two seconds. Then she narrowed her eyes, nearly twining those long sable lashes. “Does it involve losing articles of clothing?”

  He held up his right hand, “I swear the loser is not required to remove any of his or her clothing.” Said the spider to the fly.

  Her shoulders relaxed and she leaned in slightly. “Okay, how do we play?”

  “I’ll make a statement about myself. It can be true or completely fabricated. You then have to guess which and say ‘true’ or ‘bullshit.’ If you’re right, you get to pick a place on your body that I do a shot from. If you’re wrong, I get to pick the spot. Then we switch roles.”

  Vanessa opened her mouth but nothing came out. She closed it. Tried again. Finally, she shook her head. “I’ve played a lot of drinking games in my day, but I’ve never heard of anything like this. Dare I ask what it’s called?”

  Jax grinned. “Bullshit Body Shots. Reid and I made it up with our girlfriends in high school.”

  “I have no doubt,” she said wryly.

  “C’mon, V. You’re a lawyer, and according to you, a damn good one. You should be able to smell my bullshit from a mile away. Unless of course you’re not as good as you claim.”

  Yeah, he was baiting her. Again. He seemed to be making it a habit with her. And even though she clearly recognized them for what they were, she couldn’t resist accepting his challenges. A trait he loved about her.

  Finally, with a roll of her eyes, she said, “Go ahead and start.”

  Game on. He’d start them off easy. “I was all-conference in wrestling my senior year in high school.”

  “True. Your sister told me that forever ago.”r />
  He figured as much, but he wanted her comfortable. And unsuspecting. “Where am I doing the shot?”

  She made a show of thinking it over, then held out the inside of her wrist. He knew she’d go with somewhere safe. Or at least what she thought would be safe.

  Grabbing the saltshaker in one hand and her wrist in the other, he kept eye contact with her as he brought his face slowly closer to his target. He licked a languid path across the soft skin, feeling her strong pulse speed up against his tongue. Vanessa’s pupils grew larger as he added a dash of salt, then licked it off in the same manner as before. He threw back his shot, enjoying the burn as it slid down his throat.

  When she tried to pull her hand back—most likely assuming that was the end of its use—he held firm. “Ah-ah-ah. I still need this.”

  “For what?”

  He didn’t answer her with words but took one of the lime wedges and lightly squeezed it—enough for several drops to land and stream over the edges of her wrist—and then finished the process with an open-mouthed kiss to suck off the remaining juice. Then he released her.

  “That’s not…” Her voice broke slightly and she cleared her throat to try again. “That’s not how body shots are done.”

  “They are in this game. Your turn, Viper.”

  Reminding her of her tough-girl persona did the trick. She composed herself, donned her game face, and took her turn. “I grew up in a really shitty neighborhood in Queens, New York.”

  “Bullshit. You don’t have the accent.”

  “Wrong, and your assumption is the reason I worked to strip the accent out of me. I didn’t like that people could identify where I grew up and pass judgment on me simply for how I sounded.”

  He wasn’t surprised to hear she’d actively worked to improve something about herself she saw as a fault. Vanessa seemed intent she and everything else in her life was above par. More than ever he suspected something in her past was what drove her to be so strict about how her future should be. The question was, what?

  “Good for you, V, I think that’s great. It also means you get to choose where you’d like to do your shot.”

  The thought of Vanessa licking him anywhere had his blood draining to a central area of his body. She indicated his neck and didn’t hesitate to go through the ritual. Every stroke of her tongue licked flames up the side of his throat, consuming him a little at a time. He swore he almost cracked his jaw from clenching it to keep from turning his head and attacking her mouth.

  When she finished, he gave her a half smile that he hoped said, That was about as much of a turn-on as shopping for car insurance, but thanks for trying. The slight widening of her eyes revealed a hint of incredulity at his lack of reaction, but he played it off like he was oblivious. Oblivious. Yeah, right.

  Jax felt more like he was wired to notice every minute detail about her. From the shape of her eyes to the freckle on the back of her left knee. From the way her green irises could throw sparks when pissed to languid pools when relaxed.

  Oblivious was the last thing he was when it came to this woman. And for the life of him, he didn’t know why.

  “Are we done or are you going to take another turn?” she asked.

  He grinned. “Anxious to have my mouth on you again?”

  “In your dreams, surfer boy.”

  He dropped the joking manner and stared directly into her eyes. “Actually, I’d appreciate it if you’d stay out of my dreams. Lusting after you during my waking hours is about all I can handle right now.”

  Her mouth opened as if to respond, but nothing came out. For a long moment they were silent, just stared at each other, until she lowered her gaze and tucked a side of her hair behind her ear. Finally, he broke the silence by taking his turn in the game.

  “I’m deathly afraid of spiders. True or bullshit?”

  She studied him carefully and then rendered her verdict. “Bullshit.”

  “Wrong.”

  “Really?”

  “Reid and Lucie are the only people who know my weakness, so I expect you’ll take that intel to your grave, MacGregor.”

  She made a production of crossing her heart and holding her right hand up. “I swear. I won’t tell anyone you’re afraid of itty-bitty bugs.”

  The little wench thought his phobia was amusing, eh? He’d show her amusing.

  “My turn to drink.” Grabbing the hem of her tank in his hands, he started lifting it up her stomach. He didn’t make it much past her belly button before she grabbed his wrists and held tight. He looked up at her with a questioning arch of his brow.

  “I thought you said there wouldn’t be any removal of clothing.”

  “No, I said the loser wouldn’t be required to remove any clothing. However, the winner can remove anything that gets in the way of him doing a shot in the location of his choosing.”

  “Holy shit,” she said with wide eyes. “You lawyer loopholed me.”

  He winked. “Don’t take it too hard. I took advantage of your arrogance.”

  “My arrogance?”

  “Settle down, princess.” Jax rotated his hands up, breaking free of her hold. “Your arrogance is one of the things I like most about you.”

  When she opened her mouth to protest, he laid a finger against her lips. “Shh. Rules are rules, after all.”

  She slitted her eyes, but there was no hiding the humor dancing behind her lashes. Sure she wouldn’t argue anymore, he pulled her shirt over her head, discarding it somewhere on the floor behind him. A fancy black bra covered with sea green lace encased her breasts. They swelled over the tops of the cups that barely covered her nipples. It was quite possibly the most glorious piece of lingerie he’d ever seen.

  “Sweet Jesus. Is that a matching set?” He zeroed in on her shorts, praying for X-ray vision.

  “You’ll have to win another round to find out.” She gave him a satisfied smile. “Rules are rules, after all.”

  “Touché,” he said, answering with a smile of his own. Too bad he was about to wipe that smirk right off her face.

  Wrapping his hands around the sides of her ribs, Jax lifted her enough to set her back against the armrest of the couch. The look in her eyes told him she couldn’t decide if she wanted to chastise him for man-handling her or let go of her need to control and see where it led.

  He shifted over, keeping one of her legs behind him and pulling the other over his lap, until his hip pressed against her. Placing a hand on the center of her chest, he lightly pushed until her body yielded, allowing her shoulders and head to rest over the cushioned arm with her long curls spilling over the edge.

  Seeing Vanessa in a vulnerable position like this was enough to damn near shatter his resolve. She was in an unfamiliar role, offering herself up to him without knowing for certain what he had planned. Shallow breaths caused her breasts to rise and fall, tempting him to abandon the game, tear off her bra, and devour the soft mounds until his lips were numb. And that was just the beginning of what he had planned for her. All in good time.

  Leaning over her, he licked a path along the top swell of her breast. The way her supple flesh gave way to the gentle pressure of his tongue made his balls tighten, and when she tipped her pelvis slightly, rubbing herself against his hip, his cock jumped in anticipation.

  Jax knew if he didn’t finish the shot within the next few seconds, he’d lose all self-control. Salt, lick, shot, lime, and lick again. Having finished without giving in to his baser needs, he gave himself a mental pat on the back before supporting her head and lifting her back to a sitting position.

  Her eyes weren’t quite as sharp as usual and she didn’t come back with a sarcastic remark. In fact, she wasn’t saying anything. Merely staring up at him, her lower lip creased in the center like she’d been biting down on it.

  “Your turn,” he said, his voice rough.

  Vanessa blinked hard, and he could almost see her coming back to herself. The dazed look was replaced with her cool, confident air. Clearing her thro
at, she gave a little toss of her hair and arched her brow at his still-close proximity. But he wasn’t letting her distance herself more than she already had.

  “Problem, princess?”

  “Of course not.” With a sly smile, she bent her front leg and tucked her foot between his legs. Jax clenched his jaw and forced himself not to react, even as lightning bolted from his balls all the way up his spine and back again. Instead, he casually held her leg against his chest as though he hadn’t a care in the world and listened as she took her turn.

  “In college I got really drunk one night with my RA, and we ended up having the stereotypical and experimental girl-on-girl action. But it was just that once.”

  “As much as I’d love the images floating around in my head right now to hold some truth, I’m going to say bullshit.”

  She let out a noise that said she wasn’t happy with his answer. “What makes you think it’s a lie?”

  He shrugged. “I probably would’ve believed it had you said it happened with my sister. It makes more sense because you’re best friends, and there’s that level of trust there. You’re too structured and in control to have drunken, spontaneous flings.”

  The initial aggravation of losing seemed to dissipate under the interested arch of a single eyebrow. “You’ve been paying attention; I’m impressed. So where do you want to do it?”

  His mind raced through a dozen possibilities—the couch, the kitchen table, the shower, the bathroom counter, the— Hold up. “Where do I want to do what?”

  She gave him a saucy smile that said she was more than happy to rain on his fantasy parade. “Where do you want me to do my shot?”

  “Ah.” Yanking his shirt over his head, he tossed it to the side, and holding her gaze, tapped the area between his pecs before stretching his arms along the back of the couch.

  She paused for a moment and stared him down. She was thinking about something, willing her brain to fire on all cylinders despite the Patron in her blood mucking things up. He saw the determination in her eyes the moment she made up her mind. All that was left to do was wait for the verdict.