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"No." He shook his head. "I really shouldn't have done that."
Those butterflies from moments ago dropped like stones in my belly. I thought he'd found it as enjoyable as I did, but had I misread him? Did I not measure up to his experience? I lifted a shaky hand to his face, flinching as he turned away.
"I don't understand. Did I do something wrong?" I struggled off his lap, straightening my sweater in short jerks as I stood.
He rose quickly and stilled my hands with his and brought them to his mouth for a kiss on the back of each one. "No. You're perfect. So perfect that I was close to forgetting where we are and laying you down on that bench and having my way with you."
"Oh."
"I didn't come out here with you for that. But I've wanted you so fucking much, ever since I saw you walk down the aisle in Derek's wedding." He snickered. "Maybe not so much when you kneed me in the balls, but when you offered to rub them to make them better, let's just say they might have recovered faster from that image."
I groaned. "That was so embarrassing."
His fingers lifted my chin. "I loved it. Well, not the pain, but everything else that went with that evening."
"So why did you leave without saying goodbye?"
He hesitated, then said, "I knew then you were too good for me. And I know it even more now. I'd love nothing more than to take you home with me and continue what we were do
ing, plus a whole lot more. I'd keep you awake all night as I got to know every inch of your body, inside and out."
I shivered at his words, longing to tell him, yes, let's do it.
"But that's all it will be."
My heart sank. Like to-the-bottom-of-my-toes-sank; I could feel the rhythmic bounce in my feet. Or maybe that was my heart urging my feet to run to somewhere where I could bury it after exposing it to such humiliation. I'd made myself vulnerable. I'd been practically dry humping his leg moments ago, for Pete's sake, and now he was rejecting me.
"What if I was will—"
"Do not finish that sentence." He turned his body slightly away and closed his eyes. Was that a command? Or was that a plea?
Why was I fighting for this? To even contemplate giving up ideas and values that were a part of who I was, told me what dangerous ground I was on. Jax knew it. He could so easily take advantage of me, yet he wasn't.
"But..."
I stopped when he whirled around, grabbing first the hair on the back of his head, then wrapping his fingers around his left bicep. In the moonlight, I could see how rigid his back was; how his thumb rubbed the muscle in his arm over and over. When he turned back around, there was a fierceness to his eyes. Whatever vulnerability I thought I'd sensed in him moments ago was gone.
"I'm sorry, Grace. I don't—"
"You don't do relationships. I've heard. I get it."
He cringed at the bitterness that tainted my comment. "You're not like other women I've known. It's better this way."
"I'm not sure that's a compliment."
"Trust me, it is."
"Then I think that says more about you than me," I answered.
"How do you figure?"
"You choose the company you keep. Why do you date them? What do they give back to you?"
"Sex."
"And?"
"And nothing. That's the point. Like you said, I'm not looking for a relationship.”
