Eve is singing along and smiling at him. The way he grins back is so open that for a moment, I feel like an intruder. But his expression doesn’t change when he sees me, save for the flicker of heat, and I soak in his lazy posture and cider-hazed eyes as I claim a seat at Eve’s feet, facing her with my back to an old chair. “What are you playing?”
“‘Live Forever’,” he says. “You won’t know it unless you’re up to date on British rock from the nineties.”
“How areyouup to date on it? You weren’t born till ’94.”
“Hey, this shit is modern to Jax,” Eve says. “He has an old soul.”
Jax flips her off as he shifts to a different tune, but it makes sense to me. My mom told me that no one ever walked this world just once. That who we are comes from the heartscape of every life we’ve lived before. I feel as if I’ve known Jax longer than the time I’ve been alive. Or maybe I’m just drunk and delirious on pumpkin pie.
Or high on the warmth in my chest every time I look at him. It occurs to me that the only way I’d feel more myself right now would be if my brother was sitting at Eve’s feet, and she was rubbing his shoulders instead of mine. And I was on the arm of the couch beside Jax, dozing to him strumming ‘Son of a Gun’ and pretending I’m not on the cusp of falling ridiculously in love with him.
Eve leans down and whispers in my ear. “You guys want to stay here tonight? It’s getting pretty wet out there and you’ve had way too much cider to drive.”
I cast a bleary glance at the window. The old glass is rattling from the force of a downpour outside. Heavy winds lash the trees. Even with Jax for company, I don’t relish the long, drunken walk home. Then it dawns on me that I’ve made a heavy assumption that he even wants to spend the night with me. He doesn’t always. Some nights, something—perhaps everything—about him and me is too much for him, and I’m okay with that. How can I not be when most days I’m too much for myself?
Eve nudges me. I’ve taken too long to answer her question. Jax is still strumming the guitar, but he’s staring at me as if whatever I say is important.
I got nothing.
He shrugs. “We’ll stay. I spend enough time getting wet as it is.”
It shouldn’t excite me that he’s made the decision for himselfandfor me.
But it does.
Chapter Eighteen
Jax
The spare bedroom in Eve’s communal house is downstairs, away from everyone else, and I can’t say I’m sorry about it. Her friends are nice enough, and I love her more than life, but I want Tanner to myself.
More than that, I can tell he’s done peopling for the day. He needs the peaceful quiet of the dark room that contains nothing but a king-size bed and a dozen houseplants. There isn’t even a lamp, and I’m way too drunk and full andTannerto deal with overhead lights.
Tanner drifts to the bed as I kick the door shut behind us. He sits on the edge and looks thoughtfully at his thick wool socks. Vermont socks. I didn’t see the point of them until he rolled a pair onto my feet a few weeks ago. Now I can’t live without them and the prospect of my heart imitating my sock obsession is ridiculous.
A slow chuckle escapes me.
Tanner raises his gaze. Our eyes lock. There is nothing else.
Nothing but him and his obvious amusement at whatever my face is doing.
I kick his foot. “What?”
“Nothing. You’re just funny.”
“Funny-looking, or bona fide hilarious?”
“The second one. There’s nothing funny about how you look.”
“No?”
“No.” Tanner reaches out to grab me, but it’s unnecessary. I’m already right there, straddling his waist.
I let the darkness of the unfamiliar room surround us and take a breath. Tanner doesn’t blink and it feels like he’s on the precipice of disappearing into the shadows or letting me lead him away from them. I kiss him hard.Choose me. He kisses me back with just as much force, then he slows it right down to a languid pace that’s fiercely possessive. We’re pretty much the same size, but his hands feel bigger than mine as they roam my back, his arms stronger. His dark beard rubs my scruffy jaw and every tiny sensation is a bond around my soul cut free. We grind together as if we have the rest of our lives to do this, right here. I’m so fucking hard it’s making my stomach ache, but it’s the kind of pain that makes my blood pump faster and my head spin, and I can’t get enough.
Clothes disappear. Tanner’s body is perfection even though I can’t really see it, cos it’s not about how he looks. Everything between us is the way he makes me feel. How his dark eyes blaze at me. The trembling in every limb, his and mine, as he lays me down on someone else’s bed.
He covers me with his body, still kissing me as if he’ll never stop, and I don’t want him to stop. I want to sink into this moment and stay here forever.
