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Typical Jax. Skirting the issue until there’s no way but to finally face it. I have no idea how to begin facing this thing between us though.
“And if you want me to sleep out in the car tonight, I will,” he adds with a grin.
He has this way of saying the right thing even when it’s not the thing I want to hear.
“You can sleep in here, of course you can,” I say. “But that’s all we’re doing. Sleeping.”
“Noted,” he says edgily. Or maybe that’s just what I want to hear because I want him to fight harder.
He fights with everything and everyone and doesn’t back down, but he never fights for us.
It’s the wrong time to tell him that given he broke out of prison to be here with me. I do know that. But it doesn’t make it any less true.
I stand up, sending the bed wobbling again. “I need to take a shower too.”
There’s no hope that the water will clear my head or make me see things differently. All I see is the bad. And there’s so much of it, I don’t even know how to begin wading through it all.
The good is there too. Buried deep beneath the bad and quiet. Faint. Yet still wrapping everything in a thin film of happiness that is as fake as it is translucent.
Jax and I, we can’t be fixed. Mainly because what was there in the first place was never whole.
But the shower will at least get the feel of Manny’s hands on me off. I hope.
* * *
Jax
What did I expect?
For Harper to fall into my arms and let me kiss every inch of her before making love to her the way I could only dream about doing for the past eight months. Then fall asleep with my cock inside her.
That’s certainly what I hoped for.
Now she’s sleeping next to me, curled up into a tight little ball on her side, her knees brushing my thigh causing me to crave all those things all over again and making it impossible to fall asleep.
I still have a raging hard-on from seeing her checking me out after my shower. It got even worse after she took hers and came out in her skimpy pajamas—short-shorts and a spaghetti strap top—her long, dark blood red hair dripping wet, her full breasts bouncing, her nipples hard and inviting. She’s wearing absolutely nothing underneath those PJs and I wish I could come just from knowing that, but I can’t. And it feels wrong jerking off with her right next to me, so I won’t.
Instead I’ve been lying here wishing I’d hurt that pierced and tatted-up freak who attacked her worse than I did. But that’s not helping either because fighting has always made me horny as hell afterwards.
I should’ve told her exactly why I’m here.
But her dream of touring and taking her music on the road was already dealt one vicious blow tonight and I couldn’t add another one on top of it.
I’m here now. She’s not in any kind of danger anymore.
Just as soon as I get a gun and a knife.
Just as soon as she says I can stay.
I’m not so sure she will.
And that’s actually the thing that’s been preventing me from sleeping. Even more than her intoxicating smell which overpowers even the pervasive stench of bleach hanging like a cloud in this over-cleaned room. She smells like the cool wind on a spring morning. Like a field of wildflowers. Like everything that’s good in this world boiled down into a scent.
The other part of the reason why I couldn’t get to sleep is that each time a car passed on the dark stretch of road beyond the windows, illuminating the walls through the crack in the blackout curtains and the one below the flimsy door, my heart started racing, sure that it’s the cops come for me. Or the damn Renegades. Though either of them knowing where I am so soon is an impossibility.
At one point I heard scratching on the door and was sure it was someone trying to break in, but when I checked, the parking lot and the rest of the motel were as dark and quiet as a graveyard.
No matter how many times I tried to tell myself I better get some sleep because tomorrow will be a big day, I couldn’t.
