“I’ve always loved drawing. After the injury, I spent a lot of time in rehab, sketching to pass the time. My roommate was covered in ink, so he introduced me to his artist. I apprenticed with him for a while before I met Claire.” He lifts his head to look at me. “What about you? How did Summit Studio come about?”
I hesitate, hands stilling for a second before I continue. “My ex-boyfriend Ryan and I started it right out of college. I had the sports medicine background; he had the business degree. Seemed like a perfect match.”
“Had?”
I sigh, focusing on what feels like a particularly tight spot. “Yeah. Turns out he was more interested in screwing our instructors.”
“He cheated on you?” Jax’s voice hardens.
“Multiple times,” I confirm. “Found out he’d been sleeping with three different women from our flagship location. When I confronted him, he didn’t even try to deny it.”
“What a dick.”
I let out a humorless laugh. “Yeah, well. I was stupid enough to have already made him a partner in the business. He owns forty-nine percent.”
“Why not fifty-fifty?”
“It was my idea,” I shrug.
“That’s rough,” he says softly. “I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is,” I say, echoing his words as I look up. “I learned my lesson. Never mix business with pleasure.”
His eyes hold mine for a beat too long, and I suddenly realize I’m still kneeling between his legs, my hands on his thigh.
Suddenly, the air between us feels charged, heavy.
Unsure how I feel about it, I shift my eyes away, and they land on his chest. He has his nipples pierced? I know he didn’t have those a few months ago.
I’ve seen him shirtless more than once since I moved in, so how have I not noticed them before? I distinctly remember shoving my hands up under his shirt and running them over his chest that night in the alley, and those bad boys were virgins.
“You didn’t have those before,” I say, nodding toward his chest. “When did you get them done?”
His lips curve into a dangerous smirk, making my stomach twist. “A few months ago.” His eyes darken as they hold mine. “Got another one too. But you haven’t earned the right to see that one yet.”
My mouth goes dry and heat floods my shorts as my mind instantly conjures up one very explicit possibility.
“How’s it feel now?”
“Better,” he says, flexing his knee. “Much better, actually. Seems you’ve got magic hands.”
Clearing my throat, I stand and return to my spot on the couch; the compliment warming me more than it should.
We fall into a comfortable silence, sipping our whiskey as the storm continues outside, though the thunder seems to be moving farther away now.
When I look up, I catch his gaze lingering on my mouth, eyes darkening before they quickly snap up to meet mine. Just as quickly, he looks away and drains the last of his whiskey.
“Looks like the rain is letting up.” He turns in his seat to glance out the window. The rain has lightened to a gentle patter, and the time between lightning and thunder has stretched considerably. “Do you need me to stay? I could crash on the couch if you’re still nervous.”
Part of me—a bigger part than I’d like to admit—wants to say yes. But I know better.
“I appreciate you coming to check on me, but no. I’m a big girl.” I stand and collect our empty glasses. “But thanks for the offer.”
Jax nods, rising to his feet. “Anytime.” He stretches, and it takes every ounce of strength I’ve got not to stare at the way his muscles flex with the motion. “Guess I should head back so you can get some sleep.”
Unfortunately, sleep is the last thing on my fucking mind right now.
“Yeah.”
