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With trembling hands, I swipe the keycard and shove open the door. Jax follows me inside and closes the door.
I flop onto the sofa beneath the window, across the suite.
“What did Riley say?” I ask Jax.
“She's not happy because she has to step in and contact the PR company’s offices in the States. They have to deal with this, it’s too late at night for anyone here.”
“The States? Deal with what?”
“Our stupid ass move — her words, not mine.”
For a few moments, I chew a nail. “So a few photographers want pictures? They were there anyway, probably wanting a shot of the Blue Phoenix couples. We just happened to be there first. They’ll forget about us by tomorrow.”
Jax sits next to me. “You think? Riley seems convinced the world exploded.”
“You said yourself she’s prone to overreacting at situations.”
He rest back against the sofa. “Yeah, let them sort this. Not like we've done anything apart from share a picture of ourselves.”
“Exactly. A picture would've appeared even if we hadn't put one out. Someone would’ve taken a shot of us leaving together.”
“Yeah.”
I'm happy Jax agrees, but a niggling voice tells me I'm downplaying this to myself too much. I pull my phone out, preparing to run through the notifications and find out exactly how viral this is. Jax takes the phone from me. “Leave that.”
“But I want to check Twitter.”
“No. Like I said to Riley, deal with this shit tomorrow.”
I swallow. I'm used to checking my social media at least every couple of hours and if there's something happening, I want to see. “Please, Jax.”
“No,” he replies firmly and puts the phone in his jacket pocket. “Tonight was supposed to be about me telling you how I felt, not just the world. Do you care more about what they think?”
“No, but I want to know what's on there.” I attempt to retrieve my phone from his pocket.
Jax grabs both my wrists in one hand. “Tegan. Leave it.”
The adrenaline of the evening courses through my body, from the desire for Jax and the panic of the last half hour. Jax pushes me back against the sofa arm, my wrists still in his hand.
“Forget about them,” he says.
“How can I?”
Jax raises an eyebrow. “Happy to distract you.” His lips almost touch mine. “But I’m keeping hold of your hands until you promise not to look at your phone.”
I attempt to pull them away; and as I wriggle, my body moves against Jax’s. He presses himself further against me, keeping a tight hold. I’m unable to move against his weight, but I’m not complaining. “Kiss me.”
My face tingles as he traces his tongue along my lips, and I part them. He presses his warm mouth harder against mine; but before he has the chance to do anything else, I turn my head.
“Let go of my hands.”
“No.”
“Why? I promise not to touch my phone.” I nip his bottom lip. “I can touch you instead.”
Jax doesn’t need any more persuasion and releases my hands. I curl my fingers into his hair, pull his face closer, and pour my frustration and anxiety into the kiss, gripping him to me. Jax winds his hand into my hair too, holding me in place while his tongue strokes mine. I’ve wanted to kiss him this way since the moment he told everybody I was his.
I slip my hand beneath his shirt and run my fingers along his stomach, tracing the contours of his muscles. Jax pushes up my shirt, his hands rough against my skin. His lips move to my neck as he kisses my pulse point, nipping his way to my collarbone, breath coming in short bursts.
