Page 81 of First in Line

His plate is ready before he can decide what to answer, so he takes it out and gets chopsticks for himself. “Vegas was supposed to be a vacation,” he says as he joins me at the table. “I don’t want you to feel like wehaveto do this, Evie.”

“I don’t mind. We’ll take the binder with us and give ourselves a chance to meet him. If we manage, great. If not, at least we tried. And we’ll be there for a week. We already booked a Grand Canyon tour. It’s still a vacation, but with an added benefit.”

“You promise you don’t mind?” he insists.

“We can’t pass up such an opportunity, Jax. You’re not going anywhere because your team doesn’t value you the way they should. We’ve been here for two years, and you’ve won so many races this season… Yet, there’s less than two thousand dollars in our bank accounts.”

“Yeah, but at least you work less now, and focus on your degree more.”

“I know. But we need a win. And not just on the racetracks, because it clearly isn’t enough.”

It doesn’t take long for him to agree with a nod.

As we dig into our dinner, I try to think of a way for us to approach Wesley Pryce. A man like him must be surrounded by security, and getting close enough to plead our case might be harder than I anticipated.

I’m sure we’ll find a way, though. We have to.

“Fuck, princess… I need a cigarette after all this,” Jackson says, voice rough and sensual.

“Sorry, Hot Wheels, no smoking in my house.”

My fingers continue their lazy exploration of his muscular stomach, following the intricate lines of his tattoos. We’re lying on my bed, half covered by my duvet. He’s on his back with an arm around my shoulders as I’m plastered onto his side, a leg draped over his hips.

I’m still trying to recuperate from what just happened—three times in a row. I can’t believe I gave in. Everything was finally over with, and I folded like a lawn chair at the last minute.

But maybe that’s why I caved in at last. Everything is over. We’re almost divorced. And because of that, what happened doesn’t mean we’re getting back together. It’s like he said, we’re two adults, very good at giving each other pleasure, and there’s nothing wrong with it.

“You got a bit carried away with the tattoos,” I point out, noticing there’s barely any clear skin left.

He shrugs against me. “It was an outlet to express myself at first. Then it became a habit.”

I move away enough to look at the one he has of my locket. It’s still there, though harder to notice among the many new ones.

I look at him, searching for the young man I used to know. The kid full of hopes and dreams I married. He’s barely there anymore, but if I look hard enough, I can find him in the chiseled features of the man he’s become. His hair remains the mostdrastic difference, and it hardens his features. Especially with the shaved line that’s aligned with the scar on his eyebrow.

“I still can’t believe you cut your hair,” I say with a small pout. “It used to be your signature look.”

He passes his hand over the close meets my eyes to answer, “I couldn’t stand other people braiding it. It was our special time. So, the day I realized you weren’t coming back, I grabbed a clipper and cut it all off.”

There’s no resentment in his voice, but I can hear the hurt that lingers despite the many years that have passed. I don’t know how to atone for that, so I kiss him, slowly, gently, as if it could ever be enough to repair what I did.

“I’m starving,” he lets out when I pull away.

“Good to see some things never change,” I note with amusement.

His head twists to look down at me. “Yeah, it is.”

As if his expression wasn’t enough to let me know what he meant, his arm around me tightens to pull me closer.

Oh, crap. To him, this wasn’t just about being two mature adults enjoying each other’s bodies for two hours straight, was it? It was a lot more than that. It was us rekindling our old bond.

Slightly uncomfortable, I push myself away from him. “I think I have some leftovers in the fridge. Let’s get you refueled.”

“Already preparing me for round four, I see.”

I snort, extracting myself from his embrace. I pick up my robe to throw it in the hamper and walk to the en suite bathroom. After a pee and a cleanup, I return to the room in a satin robe this time.

He’s still lying there in all his naked glory, entirely unabashed. And I can’t help myself from ogling this perfect sight.