by Skye Jordan
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen…” The Virgin America desk attendant’s voice pierced the airport din, and Lexi startled. Talk about coming out of a trance. She blinked and squinted as if the lights had just turned on.
The attendant announced imminent boarding, and renewed panic settled in Lexi’s chest. Let the first guy with potential in years slip through her fingers? Or risk everything she’d spent years building by taking a chance on him?
“Why can’t anything ever be easy?” she muttered.
JAX: If you tell me where you’re sitting, I’ll trade your neighbor my seat and hang with you for the flight.
LEXI: Are you working tomorrow…or…I guess it would be today.
JAX: Due on set as soon as I can get there. Last call for the jacket. I want you to have it. You appreciate it a hell of a lot more than I do.
LEXI: That’s sweet. Thank you, but I’m going to pass. You need your sleep. Doing what you do when you’re tired isn’t safe. And I need to untangle some things in my head. This is complicated for me.
JAX: I understand. Just so you know, I’m cool with something temporary and light—no expectations. I’d like to get to know you better, Lexi, but it’s your call. Get some sleep, baby. Dream of me.
Six
The grating beat of Nickelback’s “S.E.X.” blasted through Jax’s hotel suite and pounded through his blood. The room was dark, hot, fragrant. Steam floated from the open bathroom door, casting the only light into the small living room in ethereal, glowing clouds.
Jax stood behind Lexi, her naked body held tight against his, one arm wrapped at her hips, his hand between her legs, his fingers stroking her soft, wet, swollen pussy. The other across her breasts, his palm massaging and plumping while his fingertips pinched the nipple. He walked her forward, biting his way down her neck and across her shoulder, her silky hair caressing his face.
Lexi’s murmured sounds of pleasure—sighs, moans, pleas—inched his body temperature up. When the front of her thighs bumped the sofa back, his cock—as hard and hot as a rocket—indented the supple, soft flesh of her ass. With her body slick from the oil he’d used on her in the shower, his cock slid easily, smoothly along the crease of her perfect, full cheeks. Lexi pushed into him and rocked her hips, doubling the motion and making him moan.
He slid both hands to her breasts, squeezed hard. Pushed one foot between her feet, edged hers wide as he caressed the length of her arms and circled her.
Her chest heaved as she tilted her head back, mouth open and begging for his. He covered hers and took everything her generous tongue offered. Drank in her musky-sweet taste as he spread her arms wide and used his chest to press her forward until her belly lay flat against the sofa, her luscious breasts hanging free over the cushions, her ass high in the air.
He covered her hands with his and dug her fingers into the cushions, whispering in her ear, “Stay put, hold tight, and enjoy the ride, beautiful.”
Jax skimmed his teeth over her shoulder, licked his way down her spine, bit a trail along her ass until she was squirming.
He lowered to his knees, pressed his hands high on her thighs, and spread her legs even farther.
“Jax…”
The rasp in her voice, the need, the pleasure, the lust… They shot fire straight to his cock. Tightened his balls.
“Shh…” he ordered, holding both supple cheeks in his hands, brushing his thumbs along the sensitive skin bordering her opening until she mewled into the cushions.
In the shadows, she looked like a work of art, perfectly smooth, glistening. Ripe for his mouth. And he was starving. There would be very little teasing once he tasted her. Once he tasted her, he’d feast.
He pursed his lips and blew gently on the oversensitized flesh. Lexi lifted her ass and rocked toward his mouth. He slid his hands up her calves, her thighs, caressed her ass. Pulled her open, massaged her closed.
“Jax.” More frustration sounded in her voice. Pushing him.
He pulled her open, bathed the erotic flesh with a hot breath, followed by a hard sweep of his tongue from clit to perineum.
Lexi cried out. Clenched. Arched.
Jax massaged her slick opening with his thumb as she shivered. “You taste like heaven.”
He pulled his hand back and licked again. A deep groan vibrated in Lexi’s throat. The sexiest sound Jax had ever heard. He continued to slide his mouth over her, moving his tongue higher, across the smaller, tighter opening of her ass. Lexi gasped.
Intrigued, Jax licked her there again and again, eliciting almost frantic reactions—wire-tight muscles, hands fisted in the sofa, high-pitched sounds in her throat.
She was epically tight. This spot naughty to the nth with the potential for something wickedly extreme. And the thought of getting wicked with Lexi, of experiencing that ultimate thrill, shot his blood temperature off the charts.
He removed tantalization to other areas to isolate her response to that specific spot and caressed his thumb across the sweet pucker.
“Oh fuck,” she whispered as if she were on the edge of impending explosion.
“Do you like that?” He did it again.
She gasped, her fingers knotting the sofa cushions. He wet his fingers in her pussy and dragged them the short distance to caress again, adding slight pressure.
“Oh yes.”
The creases around the small opening relaxed, contracted, relaxed, contracted. Imagining that happening around his cock almost pushed him over the edge.
He used his mouth to wet her, caressed the tight muscle with his tongue. Pushed inside, retreated, pushed in.
“Jesus…Jax…don’t stop.”
Bing. Bing. Bing.
Bing. Bing. Bing.
Lights flashed behind his closed lids.
“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. The captain would like to let you know we will be landing in approximately twenty minutes.”
“Fucking A,” Jax muttered. His chest heaved as he fought to adjust to reality. He ached from the roots of his hair to the balls of his feet. The area between his thighs throbbed, every inch engorged with too much blood. He pulled a bottle of water from the seat pocket and downed half. In his peripheral vision, he saw his neighbor awake and working on a laptop.
Jax capped his water and took another minute to get himself together. Glanced at his watch. Lexi filled his mind. Along with a shitload of angst, a million questions, and a sinking sensation of loss and disappointment. Of having just missed out on a golden opportunity, a lot like that time when his lousy agent hadn’t been on the ball and he’d missed out on the lead role in the Mission Impossible remake.
After that, he’d fired his agent and hired Cruise’s. He’d never missed out on a role again.
The flight attendant stopped at his row. She was in her midfifties with short, stylish red hair, light blue eyes, and a friendly smile. She held out a piece of paper. “A passenger asked me to give this to you.”
Jax’s heart surged. When he went to take the paper, he grabbed the woman’s entire hand and held tight. Her expression shut down in shock.
“Which passenger?” he asked, way too much desperation in his voice.
“She asked me not to say.” A stubborn anger darkened her eyes and deepened the minimal lines around her mouth. She pulled her hand from his, straightened, and gazed down at him with the kind of disapproval he’d seen far too often in his mother’s eyes. “I’m simply a messenger. If you have a problem, let me know. Otherwise, we’ll be on the ground in twenty minutes. Work it out then.”
He swallowed, not quite prepared to open the message and get the big brush-off. He glanced at his neighbor, who was eyeing him like a bird in a cage might eye a cat lazing nearby.
Jax glanced out the window. Countryside passed on the distant ground. He was making way too much out of this. He just wanted the unknown. He just wanted what he’d gone too long without. He wanted her because that dream had pumped him to the edge of orgasm.
A deep breath cleare
d his head. Banished the desperation. There were plenty of women he could call on if he really needed to get off. But that wasn’t what this was about. He was trying to get to know her because, from what he’d discovered, he liked her. But he really didn’t have time for anything more than sex in his life anyway. So, ultimately, a brush-off would be a good thing.
Jesus, he could rationalize anything.
At least the brain twist had given him some control back. He even finished the water bottle before he opened the note.
Her handwriting was feminine, with thin lines, a slight slant, and trailing ends on her letters, almost a cross between cursive and print. The sight of it made him want to touch her. Made him want to look into her eyes.
He was starting to think she was driving him a little insane.
That was when he actually read the words she’d written:
Yahoo Instant Messenger:
VirginAmericaLexi
VirginAmericaJax
Log on when you wake up if you want to talk.
A spark of hope filled his lungs with air. That was a good sign, right?
Another flight attendant passed, and Jax flagged her down. “Ma’am.” He showed her the note. “How would I do this?”
She explained that he needed to log in to the Internet with his phone, download the application, and sign in to the chat software.
Within minutes, he’d logged in, and Lexi’s message came up in the chat window.
LEXI: Sleep well?
JAX: Aside from wet dreams about you, yes. Did you get some rest?
LEXI: Some. What did I look like in that dream?
JAX: Long blonde hair, between 5’5” and 5’9”, 34-28-34, but the cup size is…fuzzy.
LEXI: C
Jax smiled, and the muscles of his chest released. He felt like he’d found solid ground again.
JAX: What are your plans today?
LEXI: Most important meeting of my career at noon. I imagine that will last at least two hours. Then I’m going to hit the fabric mart, spend too much money on satin and lace…and maybe even a little leather. Doesn’t that sound fascinating?
Most important meeting of her future? And she hadn’t even mentioned it? The women Jax dated couldn’t stop talking about themselves.
JAX: Satin, lace, and leather? Yes. Absolutely fascinating. Tell me about this meeting.
LEXI: Popular designer is interested in partnering on a new line. It would give my designs mainstream distribution to major stores. Something I haven’t been able to manage on my own even after moderate success and fifteen years in the business.
Jax frowned at his phone. That was big. He was curious and wished he’d talked to her more about it earlier instead of focusing on sex.
Wait. No. Yes. No.
Shit. He just wanted to do it all. Talk business, have sex, get to know her. Have more sex. Then a thought occurred to him and his doubt meter shot up.
JAX: Impressive. Congratulations. How could you have been in the industry for that long if you’re under 30?
LEXI: Thanks, but it’s not a done deal yet. And I’ve been designing clothes since I was three. Tearing things apart, taping or stapling or tying or hand sewing them back together in a different way. Started selling my work in my teens. What are your plans for the day?
He stared at the message, surprised when she didn’t continue talking about that big meeting even when he’d left the door open. She didn’t drop the name of the popular designer, didn’t mention the names of the major stores, didn’t try to impress him by telling him how much money she’d be spending at the fabric mart this afternoon. He didn’t realize how much he liked that subtlety, that quiet confidence, until he’d experienced it.
JAX: Just working. Can I take you to dinner tonight?
LEXI: Where are you filming?
He sighed, frustrated with her pattern of selectively not answering questions.
JAX: Pelham Bay Park. How about drinks? Somewhere neutral, safe, like your hotel restaurant?
LEXI: And what kind of stunts are you doing?
“Shit.” In his peripheral vision, Jax saw his neighbor glance at him.
JAX: It’s a medieval. We’re filming the fight scenes. I’ll be on horseback, wielding a sword all day.
LEXI: That sounds fun. I’m jealous. Want to trade for the day? You’d be a hit at the fabric mart.
That comment hit Jax with an unexpected pinch of irritation beneath his ribs. His mind flashed back to Veronica’s seduction for the single-minded stunt-driving opportunity. He shook himself just as his phone dinged. She wasn’t seducing him. She was resisting his seduction—even though she’d started it.
LEXI: Wait. Scratch that. I haven’t been to the gym in months. I doubt I could lift a ten-pound weight let alone a sword. And I haven’t been on a horse since I was about eight. Ouch. That’s not sounding so fun anymore. But it’s definitely solidly in the fascinating category. And imagine, I thought you were interesting before.
JAX: Fascinating enough to reconsider dinner with me?
LEXI: Will you even be able to lift a fork after all that today?
JAX: I’ll be able to do a lot more than lift a fork.
LEXI: Where are you staying?
His heart kicked. His mouth turned in a smile.
JAX: Four Seasons. You?
LEXI: Spencer’s.
Jax’s smile faded. A lot of thoughts collided at once. More questions arose. A lot of questions she probably wouldn’t answer. He chose his words carefully.
JAX: A woman who values security and privacy.
LEXI: You know the hotel?
JAX: I do.
LEXI: Then you must value the same.
A tingle of mixed emotions rose in his torso. Excitement, dread, anticipation…
JAX: I do.
A moment passed, and Jax knew they were both wondering the same thing: the true identity of the other.
Spencer’s was a small, exclusive, high-end hotel run by Spencer himself, a retired Army Ranger who managed the hotel with a highly skilled security team. Spencer ran backgrounds on everyone who stayed there, refused entrance to anyone with any questionable history, didn’t accept entourages, and had a zero-shit tolerance policy. Spencer didn’t house criminals, adulterers, or users regardless of the fee they were willing to pay. And he expertly kept paparazzi at bay. His rates were high, but lower than the Four Seasons where Jax was registered.
Spencer spoke of no guest to any other guest. Every guest had some kind of personal connection through Spencer, so he knew every person staying at the hotel by name and reputation. Every employee and every guest signed a confidentiality agreement upon entering the premises, and Spencer enforced the agreements through the courts.
Spencer’s had a long history of integrity, quality, discretion, public security, and personal safety.
JAX: Lexi, would you see me tonight if I could get a room at Spencer’s?
Jax felt like his belly contents had been carbonated as he waited for her answer.
LEXI: Yes.
Jax’s face burst into a grin. His chest with relief and excitement. He sent a text to Spencer, then wondered if she’d said yes because she doubted his ability to get a room on such short notice or because Spencer’s endorsement by giving him a room made her feel safe enough to take a risk with him.
JAX: Fair enough. Good to know I’m not an axe murderer, right? A woman in today’s world…
LEXI: Yes. But I have to be honest, Jax. I’m also a businesswoman in a competitive industry where image drives reputation and reputation drives business. And I’m on the brink of merging with an established designer whose reputation has been decades in the making.
His smile vanished. His gut tightened. But he forced himself not to jump to conclusions. He was admittedly sensitive—overly so—on this subject and had been known to snap at innocent comments.
JAX: You used some big words there, Lexi, but it sounds like you’re saying your image may suffer if your interest in a…biker
boy…were somehow known publicly?
LEXI: Unfortunately, yes.
Jax dropped his hands to his lap, where his phone stared up at him. A flash of cold raced over his arms underneath his jacket. Spread through his chest. Anger quickly formed a shield around the hurt, but it took Jax a few long moments to get through the seething transition.
He picked up his phone, his fingers hovering over the letters of his keyboard, but he couldn’t find anything to say. His head was filled with years of his mother’s disapproving comments on how he dressed, how he wore his hair, whether or not he shaved, how he presented himself in public. Images of his father and older brother in their favored five-thousand-dollar Brioni suits, his middle brother in Upper East Side chic—whatever the hell that was—flashed alongside his own tattered, tattooed, biker boy look.
JAX: Well, shit, honey. I didn’t see that coming.
LEXI: I didn’t foresee having to explain. It’s a problem that wasn’t much of an issue until I saw you. Until I fell in lust with you. It’s not my personal view. It’s something I deal with for financial survival.
Kind of the way he’d been willing to go back to that bitch, Veronica, to get the stunt contract back for his company? Until Wes had slapped him upside the head.
Jax dropped his forehead into his hand and massaged at a growing headache. His phone vibrated, and he opened his eyes. But it wasn’t another message from Lexi; it was one from Spencer.
SPENCER: Might have a cancellation on a suite tonight. Will know in next twenty minutes. If it doesn’t pan out, you can always bunk with me, bro. Later. Spence
Jax grinned, but an ache had developed low in his gut. Not a good one. This one stemmed from the revival of an old wound. Of feeling…like one big disappointment.
LEXI: Being in the movie industry, I was hoping you’d understand the whole image dilemma. It’s refreshing to see someone who’s been able to retain his identity and live authentically. I’m sorry if I’ve upset or disappointed you. I’ve always believed in honesty—even if that’s being honest about the need to be…less than transparent.
