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No bra. Nothing.
I actually considered putting a bra on for a second but then realized why bother… Jax would just tear it off my body anyway.
I’m like a pet pacing around waiting for their owner to get home.
Oh, God, no. It’s not like that at all!
Don’t ever say it like that, Mila!
You’re in control of him. You want him. His cock. That’s why he’s coming over.
“That’s right,” I tell myself.
Also, forget pacing. Forget getting all worked up.
There’s no need for it.
I plop down on the couch and grab a textbook.
The words are so small. And there are so many of them.
And there are no pictures.
I look at the door.
Back down to the book.
I can’t find where I left off.
I pick a random spot to start reading…
I toss the book to the table.
My chances of retaining any information right now? Zero.
So I hug my knees and wait for Jax to show up.
He texts me when he’s outside the door.
My mouth goes dry. Elsewhere feels wet.
This guy has everything inside me all twisted up.
I walk to the door and try to play it cool.
I open the door and my jaw drops.
There’s Jax…
Standing with a massive hockey bag hanging off his shoulder.
His hair is messy. He’s in a sleeveless shirt.
Muscles big, dried with sweat.
Sweat stains on his shirt.
Shorts… that hide nothing.
