Make up all the excuses you like. You just want her. End of story.
Yeah. He did.
Of course, she could be a reporter, which would be bad, not to mention incredibly disappointing. Then again, he didn’t think she was. That look of wonder on her face as she’d entered the bar hadn’t been feigned, he was sure of it, and it was certainly an expression he’d never seen on any journalist he’d met.
Jax took another sip of his whiskey, watching as Tony pushed another tumbler toward her. She didn’t hesitate, just lifted the glass and knocked the whole lot back.
“Jesus,” he murmured. “You are nervous.”
She thumped the empty tumbler back on the bar top, a flush to her pale cheeks now. “I need another.”
“One more and that’s it.”
“I can buy my own drinks.”
“I don’t doubt it. But I’d like you to be able to make an informed choice when I ask you home tonight.”
The flush in her cheeks deepened but she didn’t look away. “In that case you’re right. Only one more.”
Jax raised another finger and Tony poured her a refill. She didn’t knock back this one. Instead she picked it up and took a sip, studying him from underneath long, silky black lashes. “So, do you often ask strange women you meet in bars home?”
He supposed he could have lied, played down the attraction that pulsed in the space between them. Made it into something less than it was, something meaningless. Something cheap. But he couldn’t do that. A woman like this deserved more than cheap and shit; so did he. And besides, he hated liars. “No,” he said softly. “I never have.”
Her dark lashes fluttered. “So I’m special then?” She sounded as if that was the strangest thing she’d ever heard.
“Why shouldn’t you be?”
“No reason I guess.” Her gaze fell away, down at the tumbler in her hand. “It’s just … you don’t know me.”
“No, but I do know I haven’t felt this with anyone else in a long time.”
“This … ?” She let the word hang, slowly looking back up at him.
He met her gaze, read the dare and the challenge in her brown eyes. It touched something inside him, an instinct he didn’t even know he had. Oh, she was going to test him; he could already feel it. “You know what I’m talking about. Or is that your way of asking for a demonstration?”
She flushed an even deeper red yet her gaze remained locked with his. “Maybe.” The silk across her breasts pulled tight as she took a breath. “Or maybe I genuinely don’t know what ‘this’ is.”
No, she had to know. He’d seen the flare of response in her eyes the moment they’d looked at each other. Had felt it right down in his bones. There was no way she didn’t feel this. “Come here,” he said, the order coming out of him before he could stop it.
She’d gone very still. “Why?”
“Because I asked you to.”
Slowly, she put her tumbler on the bar and slid off the stool. Took a step toward him. Stopped. “What are you going to do?” Still no fear, but there was wariness now. Very definitely wariness.
“I believe you wanted a demonstration?”
At that moment the bar door opened and she stiffened, a bright flicker of fear on her face. But she didn’t turn around. Instead, she took a step toward him, then another, coming to stand between his spread thighs.
He didn’t know why the opening of the bar door should make her afraid, unless she was running away from something, but right at this particular point in time, he didn’t much care. Because the warmth of her body was almost touching his and he could smell the scent of her skin. And again it surprised him because she didn’t smell of some expensive, luxurious perfume, but of vanilla.
He’d never done this before. Never allowed himself to get so carried away by lust he forgot his cool, logical approach and touched a woman he didn’t know in a bar.
Because he was going to touch her. And he did. Reaching for her, letting his hands come to rest on the warm silk of her hips, bringing her closer. She didn’t protest, but he heard her inhale sharply as he touched her, saw again that flare of response.
“Now do you understand what I’m talking about?” he asked softly.
*
Yeah, she did. Admittedly, she’d already guessed that the heat burning inside her was probably the ‘this’ he was talking about. But having never felt it in her entire life, she wasn’t sure. Now she was. The moment his palms had settled on her hips, she’d felt the shock of response go through her, all the way down to her toes.