Page 31 of First in Line

“If I don’t like it, we can always stop, right?”

“Of course, Evie. I really, really want to touch you there, but if you aren’t comfortable, I promise I’ll stop.”

“I want to try.”

As if he knows I’m still nervous about it, he resumes our earlier activities and kisses me hard. He does it until I can’t think of anything other than his hand on me down there. And when he lowers it slowly, I feel ready and don’t tense up again.

He looks me right in the eyes as he does, taking his time like the movie will last hours and hours. Before he’s even reached that space that calls for his touch, I already know I’ll love whatever he’ll do to me, just like I love kissing him.

He’s the best boyfriend I could have ever asked for, and not a day goes by that I don’t wonder how I got so lucky to have him.

I love him so much…

This dinner was a terrible idea. I knew Jax would do his best to make it as hard as possible. But it’s even harder than I imagined. He isn’t holding anything back, throwing shot after shot of innuendos and fond memories. Thankfully, Nathan is oblivious to all of them.

But that makes it even worse. If he caught on to any of it, we’d get up and walk out. I’m not letting anyone disrespect myfiancé like that. But walking out now, when this seems to be nothing but an innocent dinner between two old friends who got married at some point, will not only cause a scene but have Nathan asking questions I don’t want to answer.

“It’s just dinner,” I whisper to myself.

We’re having dinner, then as soon as it’s over, Nathan and I are leaving and never coming back. And I’ll have the signed divorce papers, officially leaving Jackson Reyes in my past.

Gathering some strength, I take a long and deep breath, hyping myself up to go back out there. Jax might be an a-hole, but I don’t think he’d ruin this for me. It’s not like we could fix our broken marriage, anyway.

I’m about to turn around when the door is practically slammed open. Startled, I look up into the mirror and witness with stupor that it’s him, right here, in the frame of the ladies’ bathroom.

He breaks eye contact to look at the stalls on our right, and when he finds them all open—meaning no one else is here—he steps in and closes the door before turning the lock.

“Jax,” I warn, still looking at him in the mirror.

Of course, it’s useless, and he steps farther into the room. I know this look. I know exactly what’s running through his mind at the moment. If I turn around, he’ll crash into me and kiss me. And I’m not sure I have the strength to push him back.

So, I don’t turn and keep facing the mirror until he’s right behind me, so close I can feel his body heat seeping through our clothes.

“You can’t be in here,” I protest.

“And you can’t marry that man.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s the blandest person I’ve ever met, Evie. You’ll be bored to fucking tears before the ink on your marriage certificate is even dry.”

“Maybe I want that. Maybe I’ve had enough adventures as it is, and I want a boring life.”

“I don’t believe you,” he mutters, coming even closer.

His front grazes my back, so subtly that I could think I’m imagining it. But my skin prickles where his chest meets my shoulder blades, and where his hips meet the higher part of my butt.

“Jackson,” I whisper into the mirror, staring into those uneven eyes I’ve loved so much before. “You promised you’d sign the papers.”

“And I will. I’ll sign them. But please,” he continues, bending over to bring his lips near the bare expanse between the sleeve of my dress and my ear. He doesn’t touch me, but the warmth of his breath feels like it. “Don’t marry him,” he whispers.

I should move away. And I shouldn’t do anything that would encourage his actions. I know that. My brain knows that. But my body doesn’t. It’s careless in its need for him, the man who once brought me more pleasure than I ever thought was even possible.

Before I can control the helpless impulse, my hips back up into his, pressing my behind right onto his crotch. It’s all Jackson needs, all the consent he’s waiting for, to proceed with his onslaught.

He presses forward, trapping me between the counter and his powerful body, plastering himself right onto me while his lips give my neck a longing kiss.

The sparks that fly inside me, in the part of me that needs him the most, have a wanton whimper escaping me. This feels so right, but also equally wrong. I have a fiancé. No matter how Jackson makes me feel, I can’t let him win this. I try to arch away from him but it only brings us closer.