“Sammy,” Jax said as she threw it open.
“Holy crap!” I jumped back, startled. I was relieved to see him, thankful that he was here and in one piece. Not that I let that show. “Oh my God. Skulking on the other side of my door? A little freaky don’t you think? Even for you…”
He pushed past without waiting for an invitation. “I don’t skulk.” Turning, he winked. I hated it, but despite the fact that it’d been the night from hell, the quirk of his lip and curve of his cheek sent my heartbeat racing. “I loom. Much sexier, don’t ya think?”
I closed the door and backed into the living room. “You also jump from cliffs.” As soon as the words left my mouth, I regretted them. I was going to get to the bottom of it, but I’d planned on using a bit more tact than that. Grilling him for answers was the best way to get none.
His expression darkened and he drew himself up, a hulking, broad-shouldered figure looming against the pale violet walls of the apartment. Beautiful and dangerous. Along with cocky, and arrogant…
“Jump from cliffs? You sure you didn’t slip in a drink or three back at that club?”
I had done a few shots—my main excuse for asking for that kiss—but I was stone-cold sober by the time we ended up over that cliff. “I had four shots between getting to work, being assaulted by your tongue, and getting heaved over the cliff.”
He stepped closer, right eyebrow rising slightly above the left. Just like when we were younger, the expression never failed to send a spike of fire shooting through my veins. “Assaulted by my tongue? As I remember it, you asked for it…” Straightening, he added, “You went over the side and were lucky enough to end up in the water instead of smeared across the rocks. I made it down to the bank and pulled you out. End of story.”
“I—you—that is not what happened!” I yanked off the jacket and pushed forward, jabbing a finger at his chest and refusing to be sidetracked by the ripple of muscle on the other side of the fabric. Muscles that were so close… Flattening my hand, I savored the feeling beneath my palm. His heartbeat thumped. A steady rhythm that seemed to be increasing—much like my own. The urge to slip my fingers beneath the material and revel in his warmth was like an itch I needed to scratch. My breath caught. Butterflies roared to life in the pit of my stomach, and even though there were more important things to focus on right now, my limbs just wouldn’t respond. “I know what I saw.”
That whole refusing-to-be-sidetracked part didn’t work out so well. “What you saw?” He pushed against my hand. “Tell me, what did you see?”
Heat rushed to my cheeks and I knew damn well I was as red as holly berries. I swallowed. “I saw—”
He leaned to whisper in my ear. “Seesaw. That’s what you’re doing here, Sammy.” The tip of his nose brushed against the edge of my ear and I bit down on my tongue to keep from gasping. Tiny licks of flame fanned to life in my belly and drifted lower, refusing to be pushed aside. “Your mouth is saying one thing, but those pretty eyes are screaming something else.”
I knew him too well not to know what was going on. When he didn’t want to talk about something, he’d do whatever was necessary to derail the conversation. I turned away. There was a lump forming in my throat, and when I tried to speak, the words came out soft and cracked. I needed distance. “Back away, please.”
His lips were still at my ear, breath like the heat rising from a sultry summer sidewalk to
melt my brain. “Are you sure?”
No. “Yes,” I said, before the heat between us tripped me up. I sucked in a deep breath and gently pushed him farther away, determined to get the conversation, and my mind, back on track. There was something I needed to get out. “Thank you.”
“For what?”
“You saved my life, Jax.”
His grin faded, lips twisting into a cruel smirk. He advanced, causing me to back away. “You wanna make me out to be some kind of hero. Trust me, Sammy. That’s not what I am.”
Why couldn’t he just accept my damn gratitude? “You’re—”
He kept coming. With each step, his voice grew darker. “You’re wrong. About what you think you saw—and about what you think I am.” A laugh. Not a giddy, happy sound, but something broken and pained. “I’m a thing. A bastard. I don’t care about anything.”
I stopped backing away and stood my ground, pinning him with my best I-call-bullshit stare. “You’re lying.”
He shook his head. “I’m not. Yeah, I pulled you out of the water. But I did it for my own selfish reasons.”
“Really?” I forced out a laugh and folded my arms. His words were designed with a single purpose. To make me angry. To make me hate him. Sidetracking me hadn’t worked, so now he’d moved on to pissing me off. When the world pushed too close, he pushed back. It was just what he did. “And what selfish reasons would those be?”
He closed the distance between us and leaned in close, breath puffing out across my cheek. For the longest moment he stayed there refusing to move or speak. Just…watching. I’d seen it a thousand times before. When he was on the verge of losing his temper, or when he was trying to keep his emotions in check to keep the world where it belonged—on the outside.
I used to be the one person who had the ability to crack his shell. The one person he’d let see beyond the broken casing and into his mind. But not this time. This time he kept me out, clinging to his cruel mask, giving me nothing.
When he moved, he brought his lips to my ear and whispered, “I saw an opportunity. I was hoping you’d be thankful I dragged you from the river.” He pulled away and ran a hand up my bare arm, lingering at my collarbone. With a single finger, he traced the line all the way around to the curve of my breast, letting it still for a moment at the cleft of my cleavage. “Maybe offer a proper thank-you. We never did get the chance to give each other a test drive when we were younger. Not too late.”
The words fell from his mouth and oozed into the air, turning to vile poison as they drifted to my ears. I opened my mouth, then closed it, horrified. I had nothing, so I slapped him.
The sound was like a rocket in the silence of the room, and when I looked in his eyes, there was a twinge of justification. Shit. I’d reacted exactly how he’d wanted me to. Exactly how he would have expected anyone else to.
Jax leaned in again. “Come on, I look just like your boyfriend. How much of a stretch would it be? One good fuck and I’ll be able to put you and this whole place behind me. Who knows—you might actually like it. Or is that what you’re afraid of?”
Every syllable dripped venom. Too much venom. Jax had anger issues. Authority issues. He had issues with his issues. But one thing he wasn’t, no matter how hard he tried to convince me—and everyone else around us—was cruel.
I’d seen it too many times. Tiny glimpses of who he really was. When he thought no one else was watching. I’d never deny that Jax Flynn had a dark streak that rivaled the starless night sky, but he also had a bright streak. One I’d been witness to on many occasions.
It took several tries, but I finally managed to find my voice. I was angry at him for leaving. That would always hurt. But it was plain to see he was in pain. Lashing out to push me away. “He’s not my—”
A knock on the front door stopped me midsentence.
I tried to slip out from between Jax and the wall, but he grabbed my arm. The expression on his face was a mix of anger and desire that gave me both chills and goose bumps. “Don’t. We need to finish this.”
I didn’t understand what he meant and wasn’t sure I wanted to know. The knock came again, this time more urgent. “I don’t know what happened to you while you were gone, Jax, or why you want so badly for me to hate you, but I don’t. And I won’t. No matter what you say, and how hard you try to make me believe you’re the bastard of the century. I am, however, going to see who’s at the door.”