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I shrugged. “Well, obviously I’m not working at Hooked anymore.” He arched a brow at me. He and I had never discussed my job, but I figured quitting was implied. Besides, I couldn’t, in good conscience, continue wetting men’s dicks when I was in a committed relationship.
I meant it when I told Jax I was his. Every bit of me belonged to him, even if it’d taken me a minute to come around to the idea of it fully.
“Doesn’t mean you need to cook and clean for all of us either,” he rumbled.
I sighed. “It makes me happy,” I told him honestly.
He scratched at his beard before nodding, letting it go. My heart warmed. He really did just want me to be happy. Fuck, how had I gotten so lucky?
“Need help?”
I shrugged. “Can you flip the bacon?”
He pressed a kiss to my temple in answer before moving over to the frying pan and grabbing the small pair of tongs I’d been using so he could flip them over.
There was no hiding the small smile that tilted my lips as I began to whisk all the eggs in the bowl.
I was falling so, so, so hard for Jax. And I knew he was right there, waiting to catch me.
I was wipingdown the kitchen counters, the last thing I needed to do before the kitchen was restored back to order, when Ace stepped into the kitchen. Ace may have been the youngest out of all the men—the baby of the brothers—but he was just as deadly. I pitied the fool who thought he wouldn’t be able to do much with his small, twinkish body.
“Can you help me?” he asked.
I frowned and nodded, tossing the Clorox wipe I’d been using into the trash. “What’s up?”
He pushed his fingers through his hair. “Normally, I pay to have someone dye my hair, but Shaw doesn’t want any of us away from the clubhouse for hours at a time, which is how long it would take to get my hair done. I have hair dye in my room. Can you teach me how to dye my own hair?”
I smiled. “Of course. I used to dye mine all the time as a teenager. I’m sure I haven’t forgotten.”
I followed him out of the kitchen and up the stairs to his room, which was the last one down the hall. His room was…chaotic. He had clothes on every available surface, and a pile of clothes also rested on the right side of his bed, as if he just shoved them all there so he could still sleep without putting them away.
Shoes were scattered across the floor, and his desk was covered in pencils, pens, notebooks, and school assignments. Empty candy wrappers covered the surface of his nightstand.
“If you need help cleaning your room up,” I said, looking at him as he grabbed a plastic shopping bag from his desk chair, “I don’t mind.”
He waved me off. “If I put anything away, I can’t find it.”
Why in the world did that even make sense to me?
He dragged a footstool away from the wall and plopped his ass on it over by his desk. He thrust the plastic bag in my direction. After I had everything laid out, I began mixing up the purple dye mixture.
“Shirt should either be changed or taken off,” I told him as I slid the gloves onto my hands. I hated these big gloves and usually used latex gloves on my own hands, but these big, gaudy plastic gloves were all I had.
Ace whipped his shirt over his head, tossing it to the floor. I had to bite back the urge to tell him to pick it up. This wasn’t my room, and he was damn near an adult. He was in charge of his own space, and if he wanted to live in a room that looked like a tornado had whipped through it, then that was on him.
I just prayed I didn’t trip over something and break my damn neck.
I pushed a boot out of my way, reaching to pull his head back. Then, I remembered his touch phobia and immediately stopped. It hadn’t been outright said, but I knew he didn’t like being touched. I didn’t want to be responsible for triggering him.
I had no idea what Ace had gone through, but my heart hurt for him all the same.
“You can touch me,” he said quietly. “It’s usually okay if I’m expecting it and I give explicit permission.”
“Say red if you need me to stop,” I blurted.
He laughed. “You’ve been around Jax too much.”
My cheeks darkened. I gently pressed my fingers into his forehead, angling his head back. “You don’t want this bleached first?” I asked, eyeing his blue strands.
