JAX (The Beckett Boys #2) - Olivia Chase Page 0,19
flakes out, the way he did with the car? When he was having sex with someone else up in his room and forgot all about it. About me.
What the hell am I doing? Is this stupid of me? I can’t help but feel drawn to him. But if he doesn’t show up today, I might die of mortification. And it would be my own fault, because I knew going into this how he is and I let myself fall for it.
Whatever, I tell myself nonchalantly as I grab my coffee and head to my table. I needed a break from studying anyway. If he doesn’t show up, I have the books for my next class in my bag. I can get some good note-taking time in. My entire life doesn’t hinge around the arrogant hotness of—
The door opens, and in walks Jax, wearing jeans that look handmade just for his body, and a navy blue shirt that molds to his chest. My lungs squeeze to the size of grapes. He’s here. God, he’s here, and he’s walking right toward me, and his eyes are so hot and heavy on mine that I can see his desire radiating from him.
That spark is there, the one I thought I’d blown out of proportion over the last week as I kept replaying the reception over and over. The one I thought was just a single incident. But no, the spark is here and it’s vibrant and I want to crawl across the table and jump on him, despite how insane that might be.
Jax slides into the seat across from me and quirks a smile, eyeing my cup for a moment before gliding his attention back to my face in a slow crawl that lingers at my breasts. “You didn’t wait for me.”
“I didn’t think you knew how to tell time,” I say archly, which elicits a laugh. “I might die of thirst.”
He claps a hand over his heart and says in false pain, “Lady, you are too cruel. Cruel, but accurate. Smith would agree with you on that.”
“How’s your brother doing?” I ask.
Jax leans across the table and one hand reaches out to stroke the knuckles of my hand gripping the coffee cup. My skin comes alive from the touch. “He’s fine,” Jax says. “Turning into a boring married guy. But let’s talk about something else.”
“What do you want to talk about?” I ask, not surprised to hear how breathy I sound. God, his proximity is magnetic. I can’t stop staring at his face. He has to know how hot he is. And yet he’s here across the table from me.
“I want to talk about…what kind of coffee you drink.” His mouth twitches.
“I’m not sure you can handle my coffee,” I say. Who is this flirty girl I’ve turned into with him? This isn’t like me at all. But when I’m near him, I just can’t stop it from coming out.
“You’re probably right,” he concedes, leaning back in the chair, resting his forearms on the table. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”
“I like it strong and hot,” I say with a grin.
His lips curl into an easy smile. “Yeah, you seem like a black-coffee kind of person to me.”
I miss his touch now that he’s pulled back, but then in the next instant, I chastise myself for being so ridiculous. I’m better than this—I’m not one to be swayed by a smooth talker.
“Are you going to get one?” I ask him, trying to compose myself.
He shakes his head, and his eyes get this strange intensity. “Nope. Already had way too much this morning. I came to hang out with you.”
For some reason, the answer makes me flush all over. Just when Jax is being flirty and flippant and I think I’m in control of the situation, he throws out some comment that seems sincere and honest, and it knocks me off balance.
I bite my lower lip, which draws his attention to my mouth. I see his pupils flare. God. He’s so sexually reactive, and it makes me respond in kind. My core is already pulsing just sitting across the table from him, and I can feel my panties getting a little wet. At least I have a table between us to protect me from letting things go too far.
“You have the fucking sexiest lips I’ve ever seen,” he murmurs. “I’ve been thinking about that mouth for days now.”
The breath catches in my lungs. I press my palms to my lap