JAX (The Beckett Boys #2) - Olivia Chase Page 0,35

says, pushing her belongings into her backpack. She stands and starts walking away from me.

Fuck. “Wait. I need help,” I tell her.

That stops her in her tracks. She spins on her heels, brows quirked. “The great Jax, admitting he needs something? Someone write down the date.”

“These flowers are getting heavy,” I tell her with a wide grin. If she’s talking to me, busting my balls, I still have a chance. I just have to keep her talking.

“Guess you should have thought of that before.” She slings the backpack over her shoulder but doesn’t move. We stare at each other for a moment, and I drink her in, those wide eyes, her curvy lips, the V of her throat. She purses her lips. “Okay, so what do you need help with?”

“I need to find a book.”

That knocks her off her guard. She looks taken aback. “What?”

I step closer and drop the flowers to my side, clenching the massive bouquet in my fist. When I’m just a few inches away, I can smell the warmth of her skin, her lotion, that familiar flowery scent that makes me hungry for her all over again. “Will you help me?”

“What kind of book?” Her voice is low. She’s still staring at me.

“I want to borrow a book on how to make up for being a huge ass. Think they carry something like that here?”

She’s fighting a laugh, I can tell—she struggles to keep her lips thin and pressed together, her face even. “I think you need more than one book on that subject. You’ve had years of practice being an ass, I’m sure.”

“It’s true. It’s a fatal flaw.” I put the flowers on a nearby table then dare to reach over and cup her upper arms. She stiffens but doesn’t pull away. “Brooklyn,” I say quietly. Lift one hand to stroke her chin, her jaw, her delicate throat. “Let me make it up to you.”

Her eyes get a tinge of uncertainty in them, and that flash of raw emotion threatens to undo me. I did this to her, made her scared of being with me, made her vulnerable. I really am a dick. This is what I do, how I manage to fuck things up. How I sabotage my own life.

“Nothing crazy,” I promise her. “Just food.” I want more, my body aching for her just by being in her presence, but I’m not going to think about that right now.

“Just food?”

The tension in my chest eases. Thank fuck. I raise my brows. “Let’s take it one step at a time, shall we? You can rip off my clothes later.”

She shakes her head and gives a genuine laugh. “I must be insane. Fine. Let’s go have some food.” Her gaze glides over to the flowers, and she picks up the bundle and smells them. Her face softens. “Wildflowers. These are really pretty.”

“Seemed appropriate,” I admit with a sheepish shrug.

We exit through the elevator and I follow Brooklyn out the door.

The sunshine has warmed the air up more so there’s barely a hint of chill in the air. The fates are smiling on me.

“So where are we going?” Brooklyn turns her beautiful face up toward me.

I can’t help it. I grab her elbow, stop her in her tracks, and press a kiss to her mouth. There was no way I was going to make it another minute without tasting her. When she sighs and parts her lips for me, I cup her cheeks and deepen the kiss. Take her mouth. All the cells in my body surge to life, and for the first time since Brooklyn left the bar, I feel good. Whole.

This is right.

I pull away, leaving her breathless. Her mouth is swollen from my kisses and her eyes are slightly glazed and she’s pliant in my arms. I want to stroke her pussy through her jeans right here, and it’s hard to keep my hands on her face instead of roaming her body. I ask her, “How do you feel about a picnic?”

Rock Bridge isn’t just the name of the town—it’s also the landmark for which the town was named. It’s an arc of rock carved out by the passage of water that forms a bridge over a river. Dad used to take us fishing here when we were young. It’s a scenic place to visit.

And better yet, it’s usually pretty deserted. At least where we’re going, a small clearing in the woods near the bridge with a fantastic view and soft grass, perfect