God, do I want to rise to the challenge I can see there. To shock this alpha, this cocky, vibrant man into silence with what I can do.
Maybe he’d be excited. My stomach twists. It’s what I’d hoped for from my Soul Bonded. To have someone to mess around with, to play with the words inside my head and bring them out through my hands.
I close my fingers into a loose fist. “The clothes?”
Jax frowns, his furrowed brow telling me he’s disappointed, but he walks over to a closet and pulls out a black hooded sweatshirt.
“Try this. Weather’s warm enough to get away with it as a dress.”
I reach out and take the soft cotton, our fingers brushing together. For a moment, my eyes meet violet flecked with gold, and I pause.
But he turns away. “I’ll wait outside, let you get dressed.”
Nodding and gripping the sweatshirt, I swallow the lump in my throat as he walks out, not sparing me another glance.
I glance down. Finally, I can get out of this damn dress. If I’m quick, maybe I could even use Jax’s shower.
…I am not quick.
Not even a little.
Ten minutes later, there’s a knock on the door. “Uh, Sienna?”
“I need another minute,” I gasp. My face feels blood red from the effort of trying to get this thing off me.
Forget Alicia. Forget the demonic coffee machine. Fuck all of it. This dress is my real nemesis.
Making one final attempt to reach the back, I strain with everything I’ve got but my arms just aren’t that long.
“I need help,” I grumble. There’s silence on the other side of the door. Shit. I hope he hasn’t left.
“Um, Jax?” I call out, my voice wobbling. “I think I need a hand with the back of my dress.”
The door swings open, but Jax stays where he is, leaning against the doorframe with his eyebrow cocked, raven hair sticking up as though he’s run his hands through it.
“You know that’s the oldest trick in the book, right?”
My cheeks catch on fire. “No trick,” I almost snarl. “Just get this thing off me.”
He takes a step, and I spin, showing him the line of buttons edging down my spine. He whistles. “That’s quite a dress, you know. How’d you take it off last night?”
“I didn’t,” I grumble. “So I’d appreciate it if you could help.”
His hand gently presses against my back, and I feel the tug of the button being released from its loop. “So you slept in your dress? I can think of more comfortable sleeping choices.”
I snort. “The dress is the least of my worries when it comes to comfort. I do want to be clean though.”
His hand stops, halfway down my back. “Is your room not comfortable?”
I grit my teeth. “Oh, absolutely. Very pleasant.”
If you like a side of drafty, dusty attic and a mattress with broken springs, then it’s a fucking dream come true.
“Good.” He actually has the nerve to sound genuine.
I blink. “Are… are you joking?” He can’t be serious.
I canfeelhis frown. “No?”
