JAX (The Beckett Boys #2) - Olivia Chase Page 0,43

the flask to me. “Here, have at it.”

I take another drink, then another. Soon my headache is gone and I’m left with a light, floating feeling.

Gail starts talking. “I knew I was in love with Samantha when I saw her picking tomatoes out of her salad one day and the next time I brought her a salad, I picked them all out beforehand. And in that moment, I realized that her happiness was the most important thing to me. Even with a gesture as small as picking out tomatoes, I could show her how I felt.” There’s a smile in Gail’s voice. She looks over at me, and her eyes are warm. “Jax is fun and wild. Can you accept him as he is, warts and all? If he never changes, can you be happy with it?” She gets up. “Shit, I gotta pee. Be right back.” The door closes behind her.

I lie back down and close my eyes, mulling over her words. I know the truth—I don’t think I could be happy with him being unwilling to change even a little to adjust to being in a relationship. But this is who he is, and honestly, it’s part of what attracted me in the first place, even if it also irritated and frustrated me. It’s terrible to think I want him to change, I know. Because you’re supposed to accept people as-is.

But Jax as-is doesn’t want to be tied down to anyone. How can I feel okay with that when it’s what I want?

I want to say yes, that I can accept him, but I don’t know if that’s true. And it makes me feel terrible.

And I know for sure my friends and family won’t like the way he is. They’ll freak out and hound me about how I’m making a terrible choice. Della will shake her head with a frustrated, pitying look. I can’t stand to disappoint them, and I know they won’t see Jax the way I do. Despite his craziness, he has a good heart. He cares about me. He wants me, and he looks at me like I make him happy just being around him.

The scary part is, that might not be enough for us to make it work. And I don’t know how to walk away from him now.

Jax

“You look gorgeous.” I give a low wolf whistle as I eye Brooklyn. She’s wearing a blood-red dress that is cut so deep in the cleavage, it’s clear she isn’t wearing a bra. Her hair is twisted up in a loose bun, with pieces falling around her face. Her lipstick matches her dress, and she has on heels that draw my eyes to the smoothness of her legs.

Fuck. I want to bend her over her dorm room bed and shove that dress up her waist and take her from behind. Mess up her hair, grip it in my hands, yank her head back and lick her throat.

Brooklyn must be able to tell what I’m thinking, because she kisses me gently on the mouth then gives an earthy laugh. “We have dinner reservations. We can’t be late, horn dog.” With a shove, she pushes me out the door and we walk down the hall.

She even smells different. Her perfume has this light vanilla scent that makes me think of cookies. Sexy cookies. I don’t want to admit I’m thinking about food while smelling her though, so I keep that to myself.

I help her into the car, like a total badass gentleman, then close the door and hop in the driver’s side. Her scent fills the cab. As soon as I get the car started, I reach over and caress her thigh. The dress is silky to the touch, easy to slide up.

“God, I want to fuck you so hard right now, it isn’t even funny,” I admit. My cock is pushing against the zipper of my dress pants. At least her sexiness is distracting me from the dread I’m feeling about this evening. Against my better judgment—and assisted by Aubrey dropping non-subtle hints about how I should try to date Brooklyn—I made a reservation for us at a local steakhouse. I checked out their prices online—the steaks cost as much as a small car, but it has good ratings, so fuck it.

This evening is setting up to feel far too domestic, and I’m more than a little uncomfortable with that, if I’m telling the truth. Us dressed up, going out on such a normal date…this is so