His eyes narrow.
“Don’t lie, Rabbit.”
I take a deep breath, the alcohol making me brave. “I really, really, really want to lick your abs.”
Jax spits his drink across the bar.
I burst out laughing. “What?” I say. “I’m not actually going to do it.”
He grabs the hem of his shirt and pulls it over his head.
I blink.Well, that escalated quickly.
He tosses the shirt onto the counter. “Happy?”
I lean forward, studying him with exaggerated seriousness.
Jax laughs under his breath and grabs the bottle again.
I move slightly on the bar, trying to get comfortable. “Your turn,” I say.
Jax doesn’t answer. Instead, he sets the bottle down slowly, then he walks toward me. Steady steps until he’s standing between my knees, his hands resting on the bar on either side of me.
The music keeps playing somewhere behind us, but it suddenly feels very far away. He leans in slightly and I think he’s about to whisper something intimate and dirty. Something drunk. Something we probably shouldn’t say out loud.
His mouth brushes near my ear. “You want to know my secret, rabbit?” His breath is hot against my neck.
I nod.
“I can do magic.”
I blink, then I smack his arm. “Shut up.”
He doesn’t laugh. I hit him again.
“That’s not even?—”
His hand catches my wrist mid-swing. Before I can pull away, he drags my hand down and presses it flat against his stomach. Right over those stupid, unfair abs.
“You’re ridiculous,” I say, but my fingers betray me, sliding slightly as if testing whether they’re real.
Jax’s mouth curves. “Wanna play another game?”
I pull my hand back, refusing to give him the satisfaction. I tilt my head, studying him like I’ve just remembered something important.
“Well,” I say slowly, sliding off the counter.
His eyebrow lifts.
“You do owe me an orgasm,” I tell him.
Sixty-Seven
NOW | JAX
The bar is dark when I shove the back door open. I think the place is empty, until I hear it. A wet, rhythmic slap from behind the bar, followed by Viper’s breathy whine. “—don’t stop.”
There’s a grunt from a man that sounds like it was dragged out of his ballsack. I’m walking toward the bar, ready to ask what the fuck happened, why they all left when a bottle rattles against the counter.
