The Beckett Boys- The Complete Series Box Set

by Olivia Chase

  The Jax I see at the bar isn’t like that at all. He’s serving drinks, giving coy winks, flirty smiles. And people are responding to it, clamoring for more, like moths to a flame. The same way he draws me.

  My chest tightens in a flare of jealousy. I try to ignore the feeling, but it won’t go away. Jax isn’t mine, I remind myself. Just because we shared something new to me doesn’t mean it was that meaningful to him. I’m sure he’s gone down on a bunch of girls.

  The thought turns my stomach.

  “Come on, Brooklyn,” my friend Dianna says with a squeal. She tugs my hand and leads me toward the bar. “This place is fucking awesome! I bet we could find some hotties to hook up with.”

  “For sure,” I murmur, pretending I’m not feeling off balance. Like I haven’t been replaying what we did over and over again the last few days.

  Jax’s eyes land on me, and when I see the desire in his eyes, my heart has that strong surge of emotion I felt earlier. He gives me a warm smile.

  Could this attitude he’s showing while behind the bar be just a business façade? Maybe I’m judging him too harshly, making assumptions about his feelings or what he thinks about me and what happened between us. After all, he is at work. And to make tips, he needs to be social.

  Embarrassment swirls in my stomach. God, I’m overemotional. This isn’t like me. I press a hand to my belly and proceed forward with Dianna and Jennifer, the other friend we brought here.

  An hour ago, we were sitting in the dorm lobby, eating Doritos, and they both jumped up and said they wanted to go out to a fun bar. Of course, since I don’t go bar hopping a lot, I didn’t have any good suggestions…except Outlaws. So here we are.

  Jax doesn’t take his eyes off me the entire time we walk to the bar. The heat in his eyes is potent, makes my skin shiver.

  I can tell he’s thinking about going down on me, and my whole body is on fire. Because I’m thinking about it too, have been since it happened, and I want it to happen again. Plus, I didn’t get to make him come—after we laid in bed and talked for a while, he pressed a sweet kiss to my head and left.

  I know he wanted more, but he didn’t push me for it. Why? He seemed to enjoy me tasting him. He was super hard in my mouth. So why not finish it?

  It’s a question that’s plagued me ever since.

  Dianna sidles up to the bar. Gives Jax a bold look. “Hi.”

  “Hi.” His reply is warm, but he keeps shooting me glances. “What can I get you lovely ladies?”

  “Something good to slide down our throats,” Jennifer says, giving a husky laugh. I know she’s just being her usual flirty self, but it sets my teeth on edge.

  I never told them about Jax for multiple reasons. Now I’m thinking I should have. Because I couldn’t deal with either of them coming on to him. It’s ridiculous to think, but I can’t help but imagine him as mine, at least in some capacity.

  Hell, his mouth has been on my most intimate spot. No one else has been there before—that should give me a little bit of ownership, right?

  Jax smirks at our group and shuffles over to grab a bunch of liquor, shaking and stirring and muddling and pouring. He presents three glasses of dark pink drinks in front of us. “I whipped up rum runners for you guys. They’re strong and good and guaranteed to make you smile.”

  When we go to dig money out of our purses, he waves us off.

  “This round is on the house. I’m just glad to see you, Brooklyn.” Finally, words directed right at me, and there’s so much warmth and intimacy that it makes me flush.

  Dianna and Jennifer, drinks in hand, shoot me shocked looks. Cat’s out of the bag now—of course, I figured I’d have to tell them at some point tonight. They recover fast. “Thanks,” Dianna says to him.

  We head over to a standup table.

  “Okay, you’re going to tell us what’s going on, right?” Jennifer asks, pushing a blond strand of hair behind her ear.

  I give a heavy sigh. I don’t really want to talk about it all—partly because I’m afraid if I do, I’m going to give away how conflicted I feel. But I need to say something. So I explain how my cousin married his brother, and how we’ve gone out since then. It’s a little bit of a stretch to call what we’ve done “going out,” but it’s the closest thing I’ve got besides admitting that he’s licked my pussy in my dorm room bed.

  Dianna gives me a long look, remaining silent. “I’m surprised,” she finally says. “He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy you normally date.”

  “He’s not. It’s not that serious, of course.” Because I already know Jax, and nothing about him is serious. I’m not foolish enough to hope for more. “It was just a one-time encounter.”

  I say that, and I act like it was nothing, but I know I’m lying. Because part of me wants to believe he thinks I’m special, too. That I’m different. That I’m worth more than a casual one-off fling. He’ll never want anything other than that though, despite the little piece of my heart that keeps remembering how we dropped those walls in bed. How he revealed vulnerable parts of himself to me. I may be innocent, but I’m decent at reading people. Jax was sharing his genuine self.

  “He’s cute, I’ll give you that,” Dianna says with a sidelong glance to Jax. He’s talking up a couple of customers, and looking at him makes me feel both swoony and aroused. Reminds me of how those hands, how that mouth, felt on my naked body.

  Why can’t I stop thinking about it? Maybe because it was so intense and amazing and deep down I want more.

  “But let’s be real,” Dianna continues in a pitying tone. “He’s totally not your type.”

  The words stick under my skin and dig at me, taking away my earlier glow.

  Dianna is right, of course. Jax isn’t my type. Nor would he ever want to be. I think he’d rather hang himself than date just one girl. Which is why I can’t let him get any more traction in my heart. I’ve spent the last few days exchanging a couple of texts a day with him. Nothing in particular discussed, just random hellos and flirty quips, but enough to keep him on my mind.

  I sip my drink, focusing my attention on the liquid in the cup, and try to act like I’m just fine. But some small part of me wants to cry a little bit. It’s a silly response, but he makes me feel emotional. He makes me feel a lot of things.

  Things I don’t want to.

  Things I’ve been desperate to.

  A warm hand strokes my lower back, in the seam between my low-slung jeans and my top, and I turn around to see Jax standing there. My skin tingles from the contact—he keeps his hand on me. The possessive gesture makes my core clench. God, this man…the things he does to me…

  “How are ya, darling? Didn’t expect to see you here.” His voice is low, little more than a rumble, but it makes my skin vibrate.

  “We’re having a girls night,” I tell him. I try so hard to fake like I’m not drunk on his presence.

  “Here? Interesting choice.” He gives a crooked grin. I know he can see all the emotions on my face, despite me trying to pretend everything is casual.

  “To be fair, it’s the only bar I could remember,” I reply flippantly, tossing my hair.

  He laughs. Leans close to me, his lips brushing my ear. Feeling his warm breath and the caress of his mouth on me makes me hot all over. “You’re good at putting me in my place, darling.”

  “Someone has to,” I say. “Otherwise, your ego might get too big.”

  Dianna and Jennifer don’t say anything, just watch the exchange. I can feel their eyes boring through me. I’m so going to get the third degree about this later. But right now, I can’t seem to care.

  Jax is here, and he’s touching me, and it’s where I most want to be.

  “Ever poured drinks before?” he asks suddenly.

  I blink and pull back. “Um, no?”

  His smile is so bright it makes my heart hurt. Oh God, this guy is so damn cute and endearing. I want to bottle that smile and carry it with me. He grabs my hand. “Come on. I’ll show you how it’s d
one.”

  For the next half hour, Jax keeps me close and shows me how to make cocktails, pour beer from the tap, and work the customers. I absorb his lessons quickly—I have to admit, being behind the bar makes me feel special, not like just another girl he’s messed around with. Surely this isn’t a usual thing for him? The looks a couple of other girls are giving me indicate it isn’t.

  Every time he passes by me to pour a drink, or he guides me to where I can find the appropriate liquor to do the pouring myself, his hand is on me. And every time he touches me, my desire for him ramps up.

  With each passing minute, my whole body is more on edge, my nipples hard, my lower belly tight. He brushes behind me, and I can feel his hard length pressed along my body. He’s obviously turned on too, which just makes me more aroused.

  “You’re doing amazing,” he murmurs in my ear. I can hear the smile in his voice, and my body responds. I want to please him, have him touch me more. God, the things he does to me. It’s insane.

  “You’re not a bad teacher.” He hasn’t been—he’s been patient and fun, and I’ve actually enjoyed learning more about what he does and how he does it. It’s also given me a little more respect for him. Taking care of customers isn’t an easy task. Make that dozens of thirsty, needy, and drunk people, and things get more difficult.

  Yet he stays patient, right on top of things.

  Jax is a natural with people. No wonder everyone is drawn to him the way I am. When he looks at you, you feel like you’re the only one in his circle of existence. It’s heady, intoxicating. I find myself wanting him to keep looking at me like that, as pathetic as it sounds.

  “Jax!” a guy at the bar yells. He’s burly with a massive red beard. His tattoos cover almost every exposed part of his body. He doesn’t look at me at all. “Fucker, do a shot with me.”

  Jax laughs. “In a minute, man.” He goes back to pouring beer for an older woman in a tight T-shirt. She doesn’t take her eyes off him—you’d think he was pouring liquid gold on his body from the way she’s staring. Either she thinks he’s hot, or she really wants that beer.

  When she gets the drink, she sighs and swallows almost half of it down, then burps. The men around her laugh. Well, I guess that answers that.

  “Jax!” the red-bearded guy yells louder. “Stop being a fuckface and let’s do a shot.”

  “Fine, fine!” Jax holds up his hands. “Our usual?” He grabs several shot glasses and pours generous amounts of vodka in them. Hands one to me.

  “No, I’m good,” I say, waving it off. I’m the designated driver for the evening—I don’t want to be wasted.

  “One shot, darling.” He gives me a wink.

  “Nah, you drink it for me.”

  He tilts his head and downs the shot almost before I can finish my sentence. “Fuck yes, the burn,” he bellows, and the people at the bar yell back at him. It’s evident they love him. Know him way better than I do.

  I feel like an outsider looking in, standing behind the bar useless now. My earlier intimacy with him is gone as I watch Jax pound several shots in a row. He jumps on top of the bar and starts kicking glasses off the surface, and the crowd bursts into laughter and applause.

  “Outlaws!” Jax says, spreading his arms wide, his eyes closed and face tilted toward the ceiling. “If you’re proud to be wild, let me hear you!”

  The whole place erupts. People flood to the bar to watch the spectacle, and I find my stomach sinking. This is the Jax he was when I first met him at the wedding rehearsal. Party animal, life of the room.

  Flippant, uncaring about anything.

  I slip out from behind the bar, through the boisterous crowd, and go back to my two friends. They’re staring at him in shock.

  “He’s…” Dianna gives me a knowing look. “Has this gotten him out of your system, sweetie? He’s clearly not for you.”

  My eyes suddenly sting with tears I’m fighting to not shed. She’s right. I know it, and my friends know it clear as day. Jax is crazy. He doesn’t have a serious bone in his body.

  “Let’s go,” I tell her, fumbling under the table for my purse. I just need to leave. It was a stupid idea to come here. What did I think would happen, that he’d profess some sort of intimate feelings for me, a desire to date only me? I scoff at my stupidity. No, Jax is much more at home here…with the people who worship him. I’ll never be enough for him.

  Jennifer gives me a hug and strokes my hair. “It’s fine, honey. Screw him. Besides, he’s not that hot, anyway.”

  I pull back and give a sniffling laugh, wiping at my nose. She’s a terrible liar, but it’s sweet of her to try.

  “He’ll just hurt you in the end,” Dianna adds, her tone taking on a motherly edge. “You’re better off ending it now before you get too deep.”

  I nod. I know she’s right. I know it and I hate to admit it.

  We make a beeline for the door. No one stops us. Doubtful Jax even notices I’m leaving. I tell myself I don’t care. I get in the car and drive away. Drop off my friends at their dorm across campus and park my car.

  Make my way to my dark room, strip off my clothes and put on a tank top and shorts, and lie in bed for a good half hour, staring at the ceiling.

  My phone buzzes.

  I jump out of reflex and peer at the screen. There are a few missed text messages I didn’t hear while I was driving. All from Jax.

  I don’t bother to open them. I delete every one without reading. My heart lurches, and I fight the sensation. I don’t care—it’s better this way. He’s wrong for me, and I knew it, yet I still let myself get tangled in him. Better to end it now before my heart gets shattered, as Dianna warned. Because I have a feeling he could break me apart. I’m already in danger of wanting too much from him—sexually and emotionally. Stupid, stupid. It’s more than clear that Jax will never be ready for that.

  When my phone vibrates again with yet another incoming message, I shut it off and close my eyes, willing myself to fall asleep.

  I exit my philosophy class and feel my phone buzzing again in my jeans pocket. That sick lurch overtakes my stomach. Is it Jax? After I didn’t reply to his messages from last night, he left me alone. To my relief and my disappointment, if I’m honest.

  I’m not ready to talk to him though. I don’t even know what to say. If I try to explain, I’ll just sound like an idiot. Maybe the best way to handle this is to ghost out, just stop talking to him.

  At least it’s Friday afternoon. I’ll hang on campus this weekend. Stick close to my dorm and study. God knows I could use the time. I’ve spent far too much time mooning over Jax already, distracted and unable to focus on my coursework. This should be the perfect impetus to get me back on track.

  When I return to my room, I finally peek at my phone, ready to delete the message before reading it. But it wasn’t Jax texting me. It was my mom.

  I smile and dial her number, wanting to hear her voice, not just message her. “Hi, Mom,” I say when she picks up.

  “Brooklyn! I wasn’t expecting a call. What a nice surprise.” I can hear the warmth in her voice, and for a moment I feel homesick, my heart aching. Back in New York, things aren’t this complicated. Life is straightforward. I know what’s expected of me, who I am, what I want out of my life. But here, things have changed since I met Jax. He flipped everything upside down.

  She and I spend a few minutes catching up on things. Mom tells me how her trip with Dad went—they visited a friend of his in Spain, which is why they didn’t make it to Aubrey’s wedding. She gushes about the food, the atmosphere, repeating several times how much I’d love it there.

  “So are you ready to come home for the summer?” Mom asks.

  What a loaded question. Part of me says yes. That I need space to lick my wounds and get over whatever the hell this is I’ve been feeling for Jax. But the other part knows once I get home that things will be just the way they were before I left—with Mom and Dad directing my actions, nudging me on what I need to do. Keeping tabs.
/>
  My freedom will be gone. I’ll be back to my plain, unadventurous self. The one who never does anything wild or unexpected. The one who follows the rules.

  “It’ll be great,” I force myself to reply. If I say it enough times to myself, I’ll start to believe it.

  “I’ve already grabbed job applications for you,” she continues, enthused. “So you can work during the summer. I’m sure you’ll want to save up money.” Mom goes on for several minutes about the companies she searched out for me, and I find my heart sinking. She’s already planned everything out for me.

  What about what I want? I ache to ask.

  I know she’s trying to do what’s best for me. But even more so, I know she wants to fill my time so I don’t have the ability to mess up the way Della did. Find a wild boy and have sex and get knocked up.

  Too late, Mom—at least on the first part, I think to myself and smother a bitter laugh. I give the appropriate affirmative sounds to whatever my mom is saying on the phone and try to pay attention.

  “We’ll see you soon,” Mom says. “We’re excited about graduation. How are those classes going?”

  “Fine,” I say automatically. Well, okay, so I didn’t study as hard as I did this week, but I’ll make it up this weekend. God knows I’m going to be swimming in free time anyway. It’s obvious Jax is going to leave me alone now.

  That’s good, right?

  Mom and I utter a few more pleasantries, then we hang up. I plop my phone on my bedside table and fling myself back on the bed. Sigh and stare at the popcorn ceiling. I can’t stop thinking about how he was last night—utterly wild and out of control, not caring about anything but partying and being the center of attention.

  Silly me. I thought there was more depth to him. I would have sworn so, in fact. But maybe I was fooling myself. And yet, I know I wasn’t. I know whatever we shared on my bed was genuine, if fleeting.

  Doesn’t matter now. I left the bar without a word. Surely he’s pissed at me about it. Probably why he’s stopped texting. I’m better off this way.

  I can’t help but miss him, just a little.