I just turn and walk toward Jax. Every step across the blood-wet floor feels heavier than the last, the bundle of cash in my hand feeling less like a victory and more like a payment for a piece of his soul. I got what I came for, and Jax paid for it. He didn’t even ask why, simply did it, for me. I hate that I added to his pain when he’s already carrying too much.
Thirty-Nine
THEN | JAX
“Iread it somewhere you’re supposed to pee after sex,” she blurts out against my chest.
“Oh, yeah? Anything in that box of yours that resembles a toilet?” I ask, still too floaty to stand.
“You could probably manage the water bottle,” she says, stretching. “I kind of need a real bathroom.”
I grin, still not fully back in my body. “On a scale of one to ten, how bad would it be if we snuck into your place?”
“Zero if everyone’s asleep. Nine if my dad’s up. Ten if Millie’s up.”
“Your sister that bad?”
“No, she’s the best. She just really, really likes to push my buttons.”
“So… kicked out or a UTI?” I tease.
She stands, naked in the soft moonlight, and I can’t not look. My eyes trace the curve of her spine, the pale scar on her shoulder, the soft dip of her hip. Possessive thoughts flash through my mind: I want to bite that. I want to leave a mark right there so she remembers who touched her. I swallow.
“Let’s go,” she says, bending over to grab her panties, and I see it. A single, pearly-white drip of my cum sliding down theinside of her thigh. I know she didn’t have an orgasm, first times aren’t supposed to be all that good for girls, which means I won’t feel right until I get to make her come. Until I can watch her face when I’m the one who makes her lose control like that.It’s not a question anymore. It’s a fucking mission.
She starts pulling on her clothes, then realizes the zipper of the jacket is broken for good. She reaches for my shirt instead, slipping it over her head.
“You want me to go into your house shirtless?” I ask.
“Maybe the abs will smooth things over with Millie,” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye.
“Yeah, but will they work on your dad?” I counter, grabbing my jeans. “Because I feel like he’s less likely to be impressed and more likely to get his shotgun.”
She snorts. “Please. We’re more of a knife family.”
We move fast through the stairwell and when we reach her floor, she pauses before the door and listens. Then slips the key in slowly.
Inside, a cramped kitchenette is squeezed into the corner with a small table and four chipped chairs. Everything is too close, too worn, and all at once I hate my house—the size of it, the emptiness.
I follow her in like I’m stepping onto sacred ground. On the worn green couch, a girl with wild curls is blowing on her nails, with a bottle of red polish open beside her. Her eyes go wide when she sees me.
“What the hell, Sisk?” she whisper-yells, standing up. “Are you crazy? You know how Dad is about guys in the house?—”
“We just need the bathroom,” Sisk cuts in.
“I’m Jax,” I add, attempting to smile.
Millie crosses her arms. Her eyes flick from my face to my hands, to my bare chest, and back to Sisk.
“Go on,” Sisk says to me pointing to a door.
“I can wait,” I say, gesturing to Sisk. “Ladies first.”
She disappears into the hallway.
Millie eyes me like she’s reading my résumé and a criminal record at the same time.
“You’re lucky my dad was exhausted.”
