JAX (The Beckett Boys #2) - Olivia Chase Page 0,67

head a little. He sounded unimpressed. “That’s Stewart Adams. He’s a rising junior, future star quarterback. Just ask him.”

“Oh,” I said, unsure what else I could say. “So he’s a jerk?”

The bartender shrugged and tidied the neat bowtie at his throat. “He’s fine. She’s just using him. Trying to get to the real prize,” he said, and grinned.

“Who’s that?” I asked.

The bartender side-eyed me. “You are new. Well, honey, first off: Welcome to Harton. Second off, allow me to be the first to point out the hero of Harton, the king of this particular castle. He’s the fire in the loins of every girl and at least one of the boys in this room,” he said, raising his own hand. “And the king’s name is Jacob Everett.” As the bartender said the name, his voice got low and sultry, as if even uttering it was somehow decadent.

The bartender motioned over to his left and into a room just over his shoulder. There was a fireplace with a brick mantle, and around it were dozens and dozens of posters, photos, and newspaper cutouts celebrating the Harton Rams’ football achievements. A beaten but cozy looking leather couch was positioned along one wall, and was occupied by a variety of girls (who looked like off-brand versions of Piper and Kiersten).

Other football players— all clearly the upperclassmen— were lingering near the couch arms or standing in the open doorways, laughing at jokes I couldn’t hear and more or less blocking my view of the center of the couch.

“Which one is he?” I whispered to the bartender.

“You’ll know. Wait till they move,” the bartender said a little hungrily. A few breaths later, one of the largest of the players finally shifted and stepped to the side and yes, the bartender was right— I knew immediately who Jacob Everett was. Sitting in the center of the couch as if it were a throne, he forced me to take him in piece by piece.

I noticed first that he was tall— or at least, I figured he was tall, because it looked like he could barely sit comfortably on the couch, his knees were bent so high. His t-shirt hugged the muscles of his shoulders and neck, soft material against hard, toned skin. He had full, dark hair that looked flawlessly tousled, and angled eyebrows that turned up the volume on each and every expression.

Then I noticed his eyes— gray-blue and deep-set, gems in the center of his carved face. They were eyes that made my stomach twist, that made something between my legs clench and my tongue press to my teeth.

And they were on me.

I jumped, realizing this— I’d been so busy watching him that I hadn’t noticed he was watching me until I’d probably been staring for a ridiculous amount of time. The bartender laughed nervously under his breath and waved at Jacob Everett, who raised a hand back. I attempted to dissolve into the floor, and when that didn’t work, spun away from Jacob and pretended to meticulously study the label on my beer.

“Relax, honey. That’s everyone’s reaction to him,” the bartender said as he prepared a drink for a nearby freshman player. “He’s basically the reason I work these parties. I mean, can you blame me?”

“Yeah, he’s good looking. And he’s the one Piper is really interested in?” I asked.

“Well, he’s the one they’re all really interested in, but Piper especially. She’s worked her way up from the lowly freshmen, and now with Adams, she’s one step away from Jacob Everett’s nine-inch cock.”

I nearly choked on my beer. “What?”

The bartender grinned impishly. “He chooses a different girl every week to suck him off before games. You know, to get the nerves out before he plays. He’s the star quarterback, so he can’t just change the tradition.”

“And girls…want to do this?” I asked.

“People want to do this. But so far he’s only let girls. Pity. I’m damn good at sucking cock,” the bartender said, pouting. “Piper’s never been chosen, but she’s sworn for years that once he’s got her lips on his dick, the whole new-girl-every-week thing will be done for. She wants to be the girl on his arm, not just the one on her knees.”

“Well. Um. Good luck to her,” I said, unsure what else I was supposed to say. I threw back the beer and, to my relief, the bartender handed me another one. I dared to glance back toward the couch; Jacob Everett’s eyes were elsewhere, now, specifically on a pretty