Jax(8)

That was one of my favorite drunk games—stomping on shells. Bummer.

“What are we doing here?” she asks me.

I head back to the office, Brooklyn on my heels, then squat in front of the safe. “I’m getting money, of course. Keep up, darling—I don’t have time to explain it all.”

“But…this isn’t…” She clears her throat. “Isn’t this company money, not yours?” Her uneasiness is palpable.

I stand and face her, resting my hands on her bare upper arms. Her skin is silky, and I find my fingers wrapping around her flesh involuntarily. She peers up into my eyes, hers wide and locked on me, and I’m suddenly overcome again with the urge to taste her. To see if I can nudge a little bit of wildness from her. My cock twitches, and it’s hard to make myself focus on the topic at hand.

“I have a plan,” I murmur in a conspiratorial tone. “I’m just going to borrow the money from here. Then when I find the rings, I’ll return them to the store, get the money back, and then refill the safe. Voila, no one will ever know.”

She arches a brow. “But what if you don’t find the rings?”

“Then I’m gonna sling a fuckload of beer for tips to repay it,” I say with a laugh.

The tension ebbs from her. I like seeing her like this, not as uptight, a little softer. It makes her more alluring somehow. All that innocence and sassiness. Such an unusual combination. I like her spirit, even if it has been aimed negatively at me a lot.

“Don’t worry,” I tell her, leaning close and letting my mouth brush her lobe. When I feel her shiver, my cock jumps to life this time and presses against my zipper. “I’ll take care of it.”

“The way you took care of decorating the car with me?” she says, and though I can tell she means to make the words have a bite, they come out more like a breath.

“I definitely owe you for that one.” I let myself breathe in the vanilla-and-strawberry scent of her hair. My blood pounds hard in my veins, and I draw her a fraction closer.

Fuck. The way her head falls back…I want to drag my mouth along her throat and lick her. My dick is throbbing now, and my hands are tightening on her upper arms.

Then she seems to realize where she is and pulls back, swallowing hard and giving me her infamous bland look. “Well, get the money and let’s go. Time’s ticking.”

I pretend like I’m not raging to kiss her mouth hard and give an easy grin. “Stop trying to seduce me—we could already be at the store by now.”

Her face twists, and then she barks out a laugh. “You’re something else, Jax. I know you believe that charm works on every woman, but you need to understand that it won’t work on me. I’m immune to you.”

But there’s a light flush in her cheeks. Her breath is coming out in small pants, and if I’m not mistaken, her nipples are beaded.

Oh, Brooklyn tells herself she’s immune, but she’s not.

Challenge accepted, darling.

I’ll let her think right now that she’s in control, that I believe her words. But her body gives her away. This girl aches to be touched, licked. Fucked.

I open the safe and take out a thousand bucks. That should be enough to cover two gold rings. The bands looked simple in the picture Brooklyn showed me. If that isn’t enough, fuck it. I’ll figure out a good cover story.



We pull back into the hotel parking lot with twenty minutes to spare. I feel like I just ran a marathon and won first place. My heart is racing with adrenaline. Even Brooklyn’s on edge, keyed up from our success.

The store had the rings in stock. Yeah, we had to use our own hands to try them on and guess the right size—that was kinda fucking surreal, putting on wedding bands with Brooklyn—but shit got done, and here we are.

I take the bag from Brooklyn’s lap, remove the rings from the boxes, and put them in my pocket.

“Are you sure they’re safe there?” she asks me. “If you lose these—”

“If I lose these, just take me out back and shoot me.”

We both laugh, and our eyes linger on each other for a long moment.

Something about sharing the frantic nature of this task allowed Brooklyn to let her guard down, let her walls down. She’s not looking at me like the enemy anymore. Instead, I see glimpses of her peeking at me when she thinks I’m not looking. I see her shifting in her seat, like she’s uncomfortable in her own skin.

Unfamiliar with feeling this type of intense arousal.

The thought that I’m doing this to her makes my own lust roar to the surface. I’ve never had this kind of reaction to a woman before, and I don’t quite know what to do with it. I want to plunge inside her so badly, let her see what she’s missing.