by Sylvia Day
He set the knife down and picked up his own glass. Dangerously casual with those assessing eyes. “What are you afraid of, Gia?”
I thought about the best way to say what was on my mind. “I know you’re worried about what we’re going to deal with outside this apartment. But I’m more sketchy about what’s going to happen right here. It’s all fun and games until you start feeling irritated by the day-to-day reality of living with someone.”
Jax leaned back against the counter, crossing his ankles and wrapping one arm around his chest. Holding his wineglass aloft, he looked relaxed and at ease, which wasn’t the case at all. He’d honed in on me, stripping me bare with that jaded gaze.
“Like the way you splash water everywhere when you’re washing your face?” he drawled. “How you leave dishes in the sink because you’re still pulling clean ones out of the dishwasher one at a time as you use them? How you’ve got phone charger cords stuck into outlets in every room, so you don’t have to go far to plug the damn thing in? How I’m going to be tripping over those shoes you kick off all over the place?”
I blinked. “Um...yeah.”
“Just because I like staring at your ass, babe, doesn’t mean I wasn’t paying attention to the rest of you while we were together in Vegas.” His mouth curved. “That said, if you’re really worried about pissing me off, we can establish terms for what you’ll do for me when it happens.”
Rolling my eyes, I muttered, “You’re such a guy.”
“You’re just now noticing that? Gia, your observation skills need some work.”
I had to fight to keep from smiling. “Are we going to eat or what?”
“Are you going to quit worrying?”
“After a while, I hope so.” I ran my fingers up and down the stem of my glass. “We’ve been together six weeks total over the course of our relationship. You wouldn’t be asking me to move in under normal circumstances—it’s too soon. You can tell me that it’s not a big deal to you and you’re ready, but I’m going to have to see it to believe it.”
“Fair enough.” He straightened. “Maybe, under ‘normal’ circumstances, we would’ve bounced back and forth between each other’s places for a few months, keeping up the pretense that we weren’t rushing things along, but we never would’ve spent a night apart. We don’t have that much self-control.”
“Maybe,” I conceded. “But you’re not a guy who likes having his hand forced.”
“I had options.” Setting his glass on the counter, he rounded the breakfast bar, approaching me with a slow, deliberate pace that made my toes curl. “I could’ve walked. I could’ve beefed up the security of your loft, or put you up someplace, or just let you fend for yourself.”
He stopped in front of me, tugging the belt of my robe loose and exposing me. He licked his lips, his eyelids becoming weighted with arousal. He set his hands over my knees, pushing my thighs apart. Cool air caressed my sex as his thumbs slid along the inside of my thighs. “I could’ve taken your offer to be the guy you call when you get lonely for this.”
I wrapped my legs around his hips and lured him closer. “Maybe I wouldn’t have called.”
“Would you be that cruel?” Jax untied the drawstring of his pants and freed his heavy cock. Fisting it, he primed himself for me.
I was riveted, entranced by the sight of his large hand stroking his thickly veined erection. “I would’ve held off as long as I could.”
“I would’ve sexted you, called you, hounded you.... No way I’d suffer alone.” His lips brushed across my forehead and he breathed, “Can you take me again?”
“You really are making up for lost time, aren’t you?”
“Can’t help what you do to me.” He ran the wide crown through the lips of my sex, nudging my clit. “The minute you showed up at that bar in Vegas, I was a dead man walking.”
My hands curled around the seat of the bar stool. “Liar. You were trolling. Half a dozen guys painting the town for a bachelor party. You were out to get laid no matter what.”
“I was,” he concurred, grinning. “So were you.”
“Picked up the hottest guy in the bar,” I said breathlessly, squirming as he teased me with languid strokes of the velvety head of his erection.
“I scored the hottest girl ever.” His tongue licked across my parted lips in a blatantly erotic tease. “You had me so worked up. Embarrassing as hell to be sporting a major hard-on for hours.”
“It was impossible to miss.” I smiled, remembering the rush. “You’re so big.”
“You want it?”
I nodded. “Wanted it then, too. Took you home with me, didn’t I? Figured I was too easy, but I couldn’t resist you.”
Jax notched himself into my wet cleft with a low groan. “I would’ve chased after you for days if that’s what it took. I couldn’t imagine not having you.”
Tightening my legs, I pulled him closer, shivering as he slid inexorably into me. I moaned his name, awed by the vulnerability I felt every time he took me.
“Gia. Baby.” He cupped my nape with one hand and gripped my hip with the other, holding me steady as he rolled his hips, urging slick tissues to let him sink deeper. “Feel that? I’m pushing into you but it feels like you’re sliding into me. Every fucking time, it’s like you’re slipping under my skin.”
“I want to.” My nails dug into his back, my fingers flexing. “I want to own you, Jackson.”
“Witch,” he bit out between clenched teeth, his jaw tight. “I thought I was going to take you to bed, bang the hell out of your insanely sexy body until sunrise, then head home with a smile. But you chewed me up and wrung me out. I couldn’t’ve crawled out of your bed if I’d wanted to and would’ve begged to stay if you’d tried to kick me out.”
“Ha! Tells me what a player you are.” I gasped as he filled me too full, a wild joy spreading through me. “I had no clue. You had me thinking you regularly medaled in marathon fucking.”
His gaze was soft on my flushed face. “I was a starving man, baby, living on junk food and scraps, and you were my first real home-cooked meal. I needed you, Gia, and I haven’t stopped.”
“I need you, too.” So much. Too much. Just being in the same room with him made me feel alive.
Cupping my ass, he lifted me and carried me to the couch. He spread me out, never leaving me, rising above me like a golden god.
“Don’t forget that,” he said hoarsely. Shaky fingertips brushed my hair away from my forehead. “When things get rough, don’t forget I need you.”
I saw the worry in his eyes, the worry he told me not to feel, and my heart twisted in my chest. Then he started moving inside me, riding me with strong smooth thrusts, and I let him sweep me away.
6
“THERE’S SOMETHING WRONG with your view, man,” Nico said, as he set a box of my stuff onto the breakfast bar and headed toward the windows. “Too much sky, and you can’t spy on your neighbors.”
“I’ve got all the view I need right here,” Jax shot back, catching me around the waist as I entered his apartment—our apartment—behind my brother.
“Gag,” Vincent muttered, walking through the open front door, carrying my suitcase and a duffel bag. “Where do you want this?”
“You can just put it down,” I told him, squirming as Jax nibbled at my neck. It was a gorgeous Saturday afternoon, perfect for being out in the city. Moving didn’t qualify, but I wasn’t complaining. And neither was my family, which I considered a minor miracle.
Jackson Rutledge could sell sand in a desert. He never once said we were heading to a lifetime commitment, yet he’d managed to convey an earnest and passionate desire to be with me when we sat down with my family after Rossi’s closed on Thursday night. I think we both understood that my family heard wedding bells, but he didn’t seem pressured by that expectation. For my pa
rt, I was working hard not to get my hopes up.
Lei had wished me well at work on Friday when I told her what was happening, but she’d been notably subdued. That was hard for me, because I’d come to seek and depend on her approval.
“Looks like I arrived right on time.”
I felt Jax stiffen at the sound of his father’s voice. His hold on me loosened and he straightened, freeing me to turn around and face Parker Rutledge.
“I brought beer,” he said, holding up a twelve-pack. His smile was wide, his face startling in its resemblance to his son’s. He thrust his hand out to Vincent and introduced himself, then glanced at me. “There she is, the woman who’s got my son smiling nonstop lately. It’s good to see you again, Gianna.”
“Hello, Mr. Rutledge.”
“Parker, please.” He ripped open the top of the twelve-pack and handed a beer to Vincent, then stepped down into the living room to shake hands with Nico. “Saw the other Rossi downstairs in the lobby. Sounded like he was making a bet with the doorman.”
I shot a look at Jax and saw his face had hardened into an inscrutable mask, his attention on his father, watching as Parker passed a beer to my older brother.
“Let’s plan for all of us to get together sometime this coming week,” Parker said, taking in everyone with a sweeping glance. “Your parents, too, of course. And my wife, Regina.”
“The Rossis are as busy as we are,” Jax said tightly. “Possibly more so.”
“I’m sure they are. American entrepreneurship at its finest.” Parker set the case of beer down on the coffee table and pulled one out for himself. “But surely we can work something out. Family is family, after all.”
Nico’s dark, thoughtful gaze met mine. He shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”
* * *
Jax holed up in his home office after everyone left, leaving me to put my stuff away wherever I wanted. We didn’t talk about it, but I was pretty sure he’d had different plans for our Saturday before his dad showed up. It tripped me out how Parker Rutledge blew into a room like a ray of sunshine and his son turned instantly arctic.
What was the story there? Why was it that every time his dad popped into our lives, it automatically put a wedge between us?
I was unpacked within an hour, leaving me hanging around an unfamiliar place with nothing to do. I debated watching TV, then decided to surf online for movie showtimes and dinner reservations. I was damned if Parker was going to ruin my first weekend living with Jax.
Dropping onto the couch, I propped my bare feet up on the coffee table and set my laptop on my knees. I’d scarcely typed in my password when Jax appeared.
“Hey,” I greeted him. My smile faded when I saw the tightness around his eyes and mouth. “Everything all right?”
“Sure. Why?”
“Your hair’s a sexy mess.” The dark locks were wild, as if he’d been shoving his hands into them to release inner tension, something I would have been happy to do for him.
Giving me a sheepish look, Jax ran a hand over his hair to smooth it. “I was just thinking—you up for one of those mind-numbingly boring affairs I warned you about?”
“I’m up for anything that puts you in a tuxedo.”
His mouth softened into a wry smile. “All right, then.”
I snapped my laptop closed and set it on the coffee table. “I’ll need to go shopping, though. When is it?”
“Tonight.”
My brows rose. “You couldn’t give me more warning?”
“Just found out about it,” he said grimly. “We can have a stylist come here with some choices for you.”
“Seriously? How important is this thing you’re asking me to?”
He leaned into the wall in what might have seemed like a casual pose if he wasn’t so edgy. I could almost see the agitation radiating from him. “I’m outing you as my girl. But before you get it into your head that I want you looking any particular way, let me tell you that I’d take you out just the way you are right now.”
Pushing to my feet, I glanced down at my basic white ribbed tank top and tan capris. “Shut up.”
“Baby, that killer body of yours makes everything sexy.” He crossed his arms, settling in. “I just don’t want you running all over town.”
“I can find something off the rack, unless you have a problem with that.”
“Takes all the fun out of it for me. We bring someone here, I get to watch you dress and undress. We hit the stores, they’ll kick me out of the dressing rooms.”
My lips twitched with a repressed smile. “Pervert.”
“Guilty as charged.”
“You do this sort of thing often?” I asked as casually as I could manage. It hadn’t escaped me that most guys wouldn’t have a stylist on call for their girlfriends.
“Get kicked out of dressing rooms? Not as a rule, no.”
I told myself to drop it. “Well, that’s a good thing. Anyway...I’ll just head out for a couple hours, let you work.”
“And stew all afternoon over whether or not I play dress-up with all the chicks I fuck?” he asked, straightening.
“I don’t want to talk about your sexual conquests.” I grabbed my purse off the armchair and looked around for my flats.
“You just want to be mad at me for stuff you’re making up in your head.”
I glared at him. “Don’t pick a fight with me just because you’ve got issues with your dad.”
“This has nothing to do with him.”
“Really? Because I get the impression damn near everything in your life has something to do with him.”
“Not you,” he said quietly. Dangerously. He closed the distance between us. “Stop changing the subject and spit it out, Gia.”
“It doesn’t matter, Jax. I knew you were a player when I met you. I’ll get over it.”
“I had my moments,” he agreed. “They never included giving a damn about how the women I nailed felt about anything, let alone the clothes they were wearing.”
My chin lifted. “Why are you always so quick to make yourself sound like a class A prick?”
He shrugged. “Just calling ’em like I see ’em.”
“No, you’re trying to paint a picture of yourself that has nothing to do with reality. You can’t keep telling me that I know you, while insisting that you’re really an asshole.” I dropped my purse back down. “It’s like you’re trying to convince you and me both that you’re something you’re not.”
“More like reminding us both of what I am,” he stopped in front of me, “what I’ve got inside me just waiting to come out.”
“I think your dad reminds you of that.”
“You’re fixated on my father.”
“Just calling ’em like I see ’em,” I shot back.
Jax stared down at me for a long minute, his body tense and the air between us strained. “What you’re not seeing is that he and I have a lot more in common than just our faces.”
“So, let’s talk about it.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“You just want to fight.”
He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, his biceps stretching the sleeve of his T-shirt. He growled. “What I want is to fuck you bowlegged.”
“Jax.” I laughed, I couldn’t help it. His frustration was palpable and his response to it was so typically...male. “You’re lucky I grew up with three brothers, you know. I’m used to chest thumping.”
“And driving me insane.”
“You’re doing that all by yourself, what with your self-confessed multiple personality disorder.” I touched a finger to my jaw. “Wait. I get it. You’re a twin. There’s two of you!”
Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “Jesus.”
“If I sleep with both of you, does that count as cheating?”
His hands dropped and he looked at me. “Are you in love with both of them?”
I reached out and touched his chest. “I’m in love with you.”
With a sigh, Jax hugged me and pressed his lips to my shoulder. “Image is everything in politics. Sometimes, I’m asked to help others with theirs. That’s why I know a few stylists.”
I pushed my hands up beneath his shirt to touch his bare skin. His soft shiver and low moan sent my heartbeat skipping. “Good to know.”
I wanted to know more, but for the first time in our relationship we had time to let things grow and develop. I gave myself the right to enjoy that.
* * *
There were a handful of things in life that made me catch my breath in wonder—Jax in a tuxedo topped the list.
I watched him cross the ballroom with a champagne flute in each hand, his stride fiercely elegant and unmistakably sexual. The D.C. hotel was filled with men and women who were political and financial scions wielding tremendous power. Enormous crystal chandeliers cast light that glittered off priceless jewels and glossy, perfectly coiffed locks. Crystal glasses clinked against each other, and the hum of conversation sounded like a swarm of bees.
In the midst of it all, Jackson Rutledge stood out from the crowd.
His hair was nearly as dark as his tuxedo, his skin lightly tanned, his eyes framed by arrogantly slashed brows. The beautifully tailored tux hugged his broad shoulders and emphasized the length of his legs.
Discreetly, I licked my lips. Mine.
Jax would’ve caught my eye no matter what, but it was the look in his eyes that set my heart racing.
“I still love that dress,” he said, handing me a flute and bending to kiss my shoulder.
My lips curved against the mouth of the glass. The muted gold gown had been the first one I’d tried on and he’d voted for it on sight, shaking his head at the three dresses I had tried on after it. A smooth column of lined silk poured down my body, held in place by thin beaded straps at my shoulders and back. I’d been wary of the color at first, but the gown did a splendid job of hinting at my curves, instead of hugging them.
