All of You: Jax & Sky (All In Book 3)

by Callie Harper

  He wanted to cater more toward the MC guys. I wanted to broaden our appeal and our clientele. Right now, the way I saw it a lot of people stayed away from Ace because they saw it as a biker bar. Any given night about half the patrons might be Skulls. That created an atmosphere, the kind of one where fights broke out.

  The way Tommy saw it, we had built-in clientele. They had money, they stayed loyal, so why not play it up? He wanted to put up some chrome handlebars and headlights on the wall, get a few framed black and whites of vintage Harleys, maybe play with our logo to make it biker-friendly.

  So far, we’d been managing to have a professional, if tense, back-and-forth over it. Sometimes he’d make a move, naming a new drink special the Ape Hanger (for the high handlebars on some custom bikes) or the Brain Bucket (a helmet). Then I’d target the local Cal State college crowd, doing a $1 drink happy hour during their basketball team’s big game and showing it on all our TVs.

  “I don’t know man,” I concluded. “Sooner or later, something’s going to have to give.” I had a feeling that something would be me, and the giving would take the form of my leaving the partnership.

  “You should move out here,” Liam suggested. “Open up a place on the island.”

  I had to admit, it wasn’t a bad idea. We said our goodbyes and I sat down at the kitchen table, taking out a plate, a fork, and what had become my favorite food: one of Sky’s pies. This one was blueberry. What that woman did with crust, fruit and sugar was nothing short of magic.

  I bet she’d taste even sweeter. I’d take my time, licking and sucking. She’d be slick like honey on my tongue. I’d feast on her all night.

  Shoving the remaining pie back in the fridge, I pulled on my jacket and made myself head out to a party I’d been invited to. I needed to stay busy. It had been far too long since I’d been with a woman. I should distract myself, not get lost in fantasies. That only led to trouble.

  §

  A few weeks passed before I saw Sky again. I immersed myself in work, only visiting Ace on Monday afternoons. It wasn’t until mid-May that what I’d been thinking about but trying not to think about happened. I was sitting there with Ace, watching some show and shooting the shit, when Sky walked in.

  Both Ace and I rose, welcoming her. She looked gorgeous, her chestnut hair down, thick and glossy, those plump lips curving into a smile as she greeted us. I’d never found scrubs sexy, but on her they tantalized, revealing little but promising so much.

  She only stayed for a few minutes. She seemed flustered, looking everywhere but me. Ace scolded her for working too hard. He said she’d been taking other aide’s shifts.

  “Only when they need me to,” she demurred. “Kaye’s daughter’s been sick. And Maria went on vacation.”

  “I know, I just worry about you,” Ace insisted.

  “That’s my job,” she teased. “I’m supposed to be worrying about you.”

  She left, explaining she had a lot she had to attend to that afternoon. I left about a half hour later. On the way out, I passed by a supply room. The door ajar, I saw Sky inside folding sheets.

  I paused, knowing I shouldn’t, but still wanting to anyway. Wanting won out. I rapped lightly on the door as I stood in the entrance. “How’s it going?”

  She jumped, hand to her chest. “You startled me.”

  “Sorry, wasn’t trying to. You need a hand?” I grabbed a sheet before she could say no. She had a pile in front of her.

  “You don’t have to.” But that mountain in front of her was huge. “We send the linens out with a laundry service. But it’s only once a week and that’s not enough, so I do extra loads for residents. They need it, but it takes a lot of time.”

  “That’s thoughtful of you.”

  She shrugged, like she didn’t think it was anything special. I got the impression she thought that of herself as well. From where I stood, I saw a whole lot she could brag about if she wanted.

  I helped her, taking sheet corners. We met in the middle, our hands brushing against each other as we exchanged sides, bringing the sheet together into increasingly smaller folds. It felt intimate, as if the sheets were ours, from the bed we shared night after night. I’d want Sky to sleep naked so I could reach for her at all hours, feel her soft curves against my skin.

  Clearing my throat, I tried to steer my mind onto safer subjects. “So, what kind of pies are you baking this week?”

  “Not sure yet.” She started rattling off options, clearly excited about the prospects. I could feel the light brush of her hair as she bent down to pick up another sheet. I could see the flush on her cheeks, sense the way her hands shook slightly as my fingers grazed along them. I shouldn’t be so aware. I shouldn’t even be in there with her. But there was should and there was reality.

  “You going to get some ideas from YouTube?” I asked.

  She smiled. “You remembered.”

  Of course I remembered how she’d told me she learned to bake. I remembered everything about her. “I know you’re not going to call your mom for a recipe.”

  That made her laugh. Without any bitterness, she agreed that her mother had never cooked or baked a day in her life. “She wasn’t so interested in the homemaker stuff. Cooking, cleaning, caretaking. Baking was my rebellion.”

  “No smoking in the girls’ room?” I teased. “Just making apple pie?”

  “I thought about a nose ring.”

  “Did you?” I could not picture one on her.

  “Not really,” she confessed. “I’ve never been that edgy.”

  “That’s all right. I like you just the way you are.” We folded in silence. I wondered if I should have said that, but it was out there now. Besides, I meant it. “So, your mom, was she around much when you were growing up?” I didn’t get the sense of a close-knit family.

  “Nope.”

  “How about your dad?”

  She gave me a smile, not seeming to mind but pointing out, “You’re giving me the third degree here.”

  “Just trying to get to know you,” I answered honestly, brushing aside for the moment whether I should be doing that or not. I wanted to, end of story.

  “My father stuck around when I was little, but he hasn’t been in the picture for a long time. He wasn’t so into the domestic life either, I guess. No idea where I got that gene from.” She blushed, then shook her head. “OK, now that I’ve shared all that personal stuff, it’s your turn.” Her eyes sparkled with enjoyment, clearly relishing turning the tables on me. “Tell me your darkest secret.”

  She was teasing. She didn’t really mean for me to tell her my darkest secret. But there in the supply room, standing so close, I wanted to.

  “I still feel guilty about my friend Ian. He got injured because of me. He’ll never walk again.”

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry.” She dropped the sheet and brought her hands to mine. I looked down at them, wanting to take them in my own. But she dropped hers, quick. “I mean…” She took a step back, clearing her throat. “What happened?”

  Standing there, I told her all about it. “We were young and stupid, only 14. Four of us stole a boat. It never occurred to us that heading out a few hours before sunset on a boat we didn’t how to operate might not be such a smart idea.”

  “Oh God.”

  “Have you ever been out on the water in a sudden storm?

  “No, never.”

  “I never had been, either. I hope I never am again.” I shook my head remembering. It had been the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen. “It was like a huge white wall of water hit us.”

  “I can’t even imagine.”

  I didn’t stop to think, wonder why I was telling her things I never talked about with anybody. Barely anyone in my life other than the guys who’d been in the accident with me even knew it had happened. But I told Sky everything.

  “Liam tied himself to a life raft and dove down after Chase got knocked off. He saved Chase’s life, like a hero. And Chase? You’ve probably heard of him.
He went on to swim in the Olympics. Chase Carter?”

  “Yeah, Chase Carter was on the boat with you?”

  I nodded. “Random, I know, but back then he was just a gawky kid I hung out with.” By now I was used to that kind of surprised and impressed reaction about my knowing Chase. To me, he was still the intense, introverted kid I’d met back in the day, prone to double-strapping his backpack and pulling his athletic socks all the way up to his knees. But he’d channeled all of his focused drive into an incredible swimming career, actually taking home a bundle of Olympic medals.

  As for me? That night when the boat had split in two, all I’d done was try to hang on and not drown.

  “After Chase and Liam went over, it was just me and Ian on the boat. A mast fell on him. I tried to make it over, but I couldn’t get there. The flames were...” I motioned with my hands, remembering what it had been like, the fire engulfing, swallowing. I still woke up sometimes with my heart pounding, sweaty, remembering all the blackness and choking smoke, how even over the howl of the wind and the crash of the waves I could hear Ian’s screams.

  “I still have nightmares about it. I should have done more.” I looked down, suddenly wondering what the fuck I was doing telling Sky this story.

  “Jax, you were 14, in the middle of a storm on a burning, sinking boat.” She stepped closer, bringing her soft, warm hand to my forearm. “It sounds like it’s a miracle you survived at all.”

  “I don’t know why I just told you all that.” I ran my hand over the top of my head, partially to stop myself from reaching out to touch her. “I don’t know what got into me. I never talk about it. I’m sorry.” She stood so close I could smell her musky rose scent.

  “No, I’m glad you did.” She swept her fingers across my shoulder, giving me a light caress. I was sure she meant it to be soothing, but it had the opposite effect.

  “It doesn’t sound like there was anything you could do. You’re a good man, Jax. I know you are. I see you with Ace. Don’t beat yourself up over something that happened so long ago.”

  Standing there with her, the understanding in her eyes, the comfort in her touch, I felt better about it all than I had in a long time. “Thanks, Sky.”

  “Thank you for talking to me.”

  The fact that I didn’t lean down and kiss her, take her juicy lips and capture them with mine? That was some superhuman resistance right there. I stood, so close to leaning down, reaching out, pressing her against me, burying myself in her. But somehow I held back.

  “Oh, I have to show you!” she exclaimed suddenly, dipping down to grab her phone out of her bag. “I got the greatest picture of Ace the other day.” She scrolled through her photos. I wanted to see them all, have her tell me about them. Maybe they’d be of Griller and that would cure me of this growing obsession once and for all. If I stood next to her and heard her gush over her husband, maybe I’d get it through my thick skull that I couldn’t touch her.

  But maybe they wouldn’t be of Griller. Maybe they’d be of things she liked and people she knew and I’d learn more about her, discover more about what made her smile, what she enjoyed, what made her tick. I wanted to know everything.

  “Look, isn’t that so Ace?” She turned to me, showing me a perfect photo of him smiling with a couple of his lady friends. At 80, the man had a twinkle in his eye and a spring in his step. He knew he was all that.

  “You really captured him,” I agreed. “Can you send that to me?”

  “Sure, I just need your number.”

  “Here.” I took her phone from her and created a new contact, adding my address in as well. I enjoyed the fact that she’d be able to get in touch with me, and me with her, way too much.

  No sheets were left to fold. I had no reason to be there, other than that I liked being close to her. I guessed I had to say good-bye.

  As she reached to put the phone back in her bag, her sleeve pulled up a bit, revealing her wrist. She had two angry, dark bruises, one on each side. I knew what made those kinds of bruises: a mean clamp around the wrist from someone bigger and stronger.

  Every muscle in my body tensed, my hands balling into fists. Who had done that to her? Was it her husband? Was that rat bastard laying a hand on her? I could feel a cold sweat of rage forming on my brow and I must have been scowling with fury because she looked up at me and asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Who did that to your wrist?” I didn’t mean to be so blunt, to show all my emotion in my voice, but I was nearly shaking with anger at the thought that someone had hurt her.

  “What? No, no one.” Self-consciously, she pulled her sleeve down, covering the bruises. “I bumped myself.”

  I swallowed, trying to tamp down the rage. No one bumped themselves like that, in perfectly matching circles on either side of their wrist bone. No, that happened when someone grabbed you with too much force. I’d had those marks on me from my dad when I was a kid, and I’d seen them on my mom, too, before she left him. It brought out all kinds of repressed, vengeful fury I wanted to rain down on her oppressor.

  “So, thanks for helping me. It was nice talking to you.” Now she wasn’t meeting my eyes. “I’ve got to get back to my rounds.” She brushed by me to scoot out the door, and I almost caught her before she left. But there was a chance I’d have too much emotion in it, might grab her too hard. And it wasn’t my place to feel that protective of her, to want to keep her safe and see that nothing bad ever happened to her again. So I watched her leave, walking down the hall without me, wondering how the hell I was going to get her off my mind now.

  The answer was, I couldn’t. I lasted two days. Then, that night, standing in the middle of my crowded bar with all sorts of problems that should have been enough to distract me, I gave in. I sent her a text. It wasn’t too late, only around nine o’clock. I hoped what I wrote was innocent enough.

  Jax: Did you bake anything tonight?

  A minute later, I got back a photo of a pie. It looked incredible, golden and succulent. I could imagine Sky baking, dusted head to toe with flour, smiling as she worked. She’d look so freaking sweet. Any man would be so lucky to come home to her. But I bet her husband was out and he wasn’t alone.

  Jax: Are you baking right now?

  I got back another photo, this one taken from an angle to show an apron, what looked like flour-dusted sweatpants and then her bare feet. Her toenails were hot pink. I’d had a lot of women send me sexy photos of themselves. Over the years, my phone had lit up with everything from women in hot dresses or lingerie right on up to buck naked and touching themselves. But none of those photos had turned me on half as much as that photo of Sky in sweatpants and an apron. I could picture coming home to her, how sweet she’d taste, some sugar mixed in with the kiss.

  All sorts of replies ran through my mind, and not a single one of them could I send. I couldn’t tell her that I bet she’d taste even better than that pie. I couldn’t tell her I’d be over later to help her wash off all that flour in a long bath. So, all I said was:

  Jax: Looks like I’m stopping by Romi’s tomorrow.

  She sent back a smiley face emoji.

  That night, when I got home I took a shower. I remembered how she’d smelled when we’d folded sheets, her supple curves hinted at in her scrubs. Her round, perfect ass when she’d bent down to get her phone.

  I’d wanted to lock that supply room door. I could have pressed her against the wall and made her gasp, devouring her with my kisses. I could have kissed her breathless, stripped off that top and licked and sucked on those gorgeous breasts until she panted, fingers clawing at my shoulders, arms, chest. I wanted to hear her moan, wanted to see those lips part in pleasure. I needed to see her look up at me drugged with desire, wanting everything I had to give to her.

  Stroking my cock, I closed my eyes and imagined if I’d slipped my fingers under her waistband and slid down her panties. In real life, she’d surely tell me to stop, remind me that she wasn’t mine, maybe smack me across the face for goo
d measure. But this wasn’t real life, this was my fantasy surrounded by the hot steam of the shower, in the privacy of my home.

  In my fantasy, she was wet for me, so wet as I stroked her slick pussy. Her moans grew more fevered, more needy as I worked her, just like I worked myself, faster, more demanding, hurtling toward the climax we both craved. I could almost hear her cry out my name as she came on my fingers, shaking and calling out for me. Just like I came with her name on my lips, shooting out my cum, eyes closed, lost to the fantasy that I knew could never happen in real life.

  5

  Sky

  During the month of June, the sun shone bright like it always did in L.A. Only this month it seemed even brighter. The flowers bloomed with more color than ever. The birds chirped just for me, twittering away like I was Snow White and we spoke each other’s happy woodland language.

  I knew what was going on, but I didn’t want to admit it. I didn’t want it to be so, but that didn’t change the fact that the joy welling up and threatening to burst out through my chest had everything to do with a certain man I still only saw a few times a month. But Jax and I were starting to talk much more frequently than that. The text messages between us started off slow, but the pace picked up, more and more to say to each other with each passing week.

  The charge I got when my phone sounded from a new text was like taking a hit of crack. Not that I’d ever taken crack. But it was definitely an adrenaline rush, a high that made me guilty and excited and thrilled, soaring up to the clouds to know he was thinking about me and checking in, sharing something from his day and asking about mine.

  We never crossed any lines. He never asked me what kind of underwear I had on. I never told him I dreamed about him at night. But we also never talked about Mike, or any women in his life.