Chapter 14

 

Lizzie

 

Remember when I talked about waking up and feeling fantastic? Well forget it, the bar just got raised. Remember when I said that I’m not a morning person? That I’d dealt out more knockout punches to my alarm clocks than a heavyweight champion? That it took coffee so strong that it’s almost poisonous for me to open my eyes fully? Well forget that too, because it turns out all I needed was to wake up next to Jax.

It starts with one of the nicest dreams I’ve had in a long time. I’m naked, and sinking into the softest, most luxurious silk cloth I’ve ever felt against my skin. It feels as decadent and as perfect as a chocolate advertisement. Strong arms wrap themselves around me, making me feel safe, and I can feel the gentle tickling of something rough but tender against the back of my neck. Then I open my eyes, and see the sun rising over the rolling city of LA like a postcard.

I cling to the moment like a dream you want to drain every last second from, and weirdly, the clinging works for once. The perfect skyline doesn’t dissolve into my screeching alarm clock. The plush silk sheets don’t morph into my functional cotton ones. And when I move my hand over the thing cupping my breast I don’t find a forgotten sock, but the strong knuckles and powerful lines of a man’s hand. Jax’s hand.

I gasp slightly, from the overwhelming realization that this is really happening, and from the probing kisses he’s placing on all the sweet spots across the back of my ear.

When I feel the stiff shaft of his cock rest between my ass cheeks, and the rock-like definition of his chest pressing into my back, any notion that this is a dream flies about as far away as the distant horizon that fills my field of view.

It happens slowly, sleepily. Silent apart from the sound of rustling sheets (they even sound expensive), the barely audible pecks Jax places over neck, my soft moans in response, and the gentle swipe of skin against skin as his hands play over my breasts.

I reach my free hand behind me and pull him closer, tracing the toned muscles of his ass and thighs. Then I take his hand and slowly bring his finger to my mouth, where I roll my tongue around it and suck – just how he likes his dick sucked.

We hold the moment, both of us clutching onto the hazy morning delight as if we could still wake up at any moment. When his cock starts rolling up and down my ass, and his hands start grabbing like he wants to tear a piece of me off, I don’t let him do all the work.

Jax has been a very good boy, and it’s time I took a load off him.

I roll over, push him onto his back, and sweep away the covers in a swirl, leaving just our two naked bodies on the bed. I take his rod-like cock – which I swear has grown a full inch since last night—for a guy who fucks as hard as Jax, it’s amazing how he still has anything to give—and roll the tip over my pussy. Then I grab a condom from the bedside table and roll it onto him, expertly quick. When I glance up at him afterward, the hunger in his eyes makes pulse race.

“Get over here,” he says, his voice a low rumble.

Jax’s hands reach for my breasts and my neck, caressing and pulling me onto him. When I put him inside me, and hold him there, I can tell he’s about to start handing out further instruction – but what I do next lets him know right away that I’ve got this.

I lean over him, letting his hands pull at my hair and pinch my nipples, while I swing my pussy back and forth over the tip of his cock with all the expert slightness of someone getting into hot water.

I read every curve of his lips, and every squint of his eyes like signs, telling me just how much to give, and just how little to hold back, until I can almost hear his balls rumbling with the urge.

Then I slam myself onto his cock with all the sudden urgency of an out-of-control train and start really rocking him.

His hands drop away, clutching the sheets like he’ll crash back down to earth if he doesn’t. But that’s ok, the sheer thrill in his eyes as he watches me ride him is enough to make me hot. I’m a hair-flying, breast-bouncing, hip-squeezing, sex goddess; and I want Jax to feel the benefits of his star pupil.

Even though he’s gripping the bedsheets and slamming his head back into the pillow like he’s riding several rollercoasters at once, Jax’s hot eyes never once leave my body. I swirl my pussy over his cock with all the pent-up horniness of a recently-exiled nun, until Jax’s hands wrap themselves around my waist and beg me to stop.

For a finale, I slide off and downwards, whip off the condom, and squeeze my tits around his throbbing dick. The sight alone pushes him over the edge, and he shoots his loads over my chest, growling roughly like a tiger staking its territory.

Then he falls back onto the pillow and brings a hand to his forehead as if he just witnessed a miracle.

“Well,” he says, between pants, “that’s one way to wake up.”

A hot shower later, and I’m still feeling the blood pumping through my limbs. Jax’s shower really is amazing, but I’m too worried about finding my way back to the bedroom in Jax’s confusing wonderland of a home to fully enjoy it.

Luckily, Jax is standing right there in the corridor, coffee cup in hand, designer boxers on ample crotch.

“You’re… waiting for me outside the shower?”

“I’ll take any chance to look at you naked,” Jax grins, raising his coffee cup in salute and taking a sip.

“Well, considering I only have the dress I wore yesterday, I may remain naked a little longer.”

Jax’s smile shifts a few degrees. He steps aside, hands me a pair of his jeans and a t shirt, then winks.

“How very thoughtful,” I say, appreciatively taking the clothes.

“Nothing sexier than a girl wearing my clothes. Well, maybe a few things.”

“But I still only have heels.”

Jax nods to the floor, where there are a pair of lady’s flip-flop sandals.

“You have women’s shoes in the house?”

Jax shrugs, and for the first time he looks a little embarrassed, though he still pulls it off with boyish handsomeness.

“I… have found it useful to keep a pair or two on hand.”

“Right,” I say, letting it go with good humor.

When I get dressed, Jax is ready and waiting once again. He jingles his car keys.

“Let’s go get brunch. I’ll let you drive the Ferrari.”

“I can’t. I’m no good driving stick.”

Jax chuckles. “Oh, I think you drove stick very well already.”

Up for anything, I proceed to drive Jax’s car in possibly the slowest, clumsiest way a Ferrari has ever been driven. After the third stall, which seems to hurt Jax like a kick in the balls, I grit my teeth and really concentrate.

As I get the feel of its roaring engine and tight steering, I begin to notice the girls that seem to wave on almost every corner of Jax’s neighborhood. He does his best not to make it obvious, but I can see him nodding slightly and raising a polite hand that’s slung out the window.

“You seem pretty popular around here,” I say, after two girls with dogs blow him a kiss.

“What can I say? I’m a friendly neighbor,” Jax says. “You taking us any place in particular?”

“Oh yes. The best deli in LA. Prepare to have your mind blown, Mr. Architect,” I smile, proudly shifting down for a corner without a hitch. “For the second time this morning.”

By the time we get to the deli, I’m ready to eat the place out of business. As we exit the car, and start walking down the packed street, I have a realization.

“You know, this is the first time we’ve been out in the daytime, in public,” I say, feeling breezily comfortable in Jax’s sweet-smelling, loose clothes.

Jax swaggers along beside me for a while before turning his head towards me. “Does that mean this a ‘date,’ Miss Tipton? I’d hate to overstep the bounds of our professional relationship.” He smiles, and it’s obvious he’s flirting with me. And I like it.

I smile back and pull away a little, toying a few strands of hair behind my ear.

“Well, I guess if—”

“Hey, Jax!”

The voice comes from an Asian woman in a leather jacket and a bob haircut that makes her look almost fierce.

“I didn’t know you were back in town. Haven’t seen you at the bar in over a week,” she continues, pressing a slender, insinuating hand against his chest – fingers just over the low neckline of his shirt. The kind of detail only a woman would notice – and perform.

“I’ve been busy,” Jax says, turning his body sideways evasively.

The woman looks me up and down like she’s judging whether she wants to fuck me or Jax, before turning to him again. “I don’t believe you’ve got yourself a girlfriend, Jax. So this must be your sister or something.”

Jax laughs politely, takes one more step away, and shakes his head. “Right now, the only relationship I want is with a meatball sub. I’ll see you around.”

She lets her hand trail over his shoulder as he pulls away. “Well, give me a call. You’ve got my number – and I sure as hell kept yours.”

With a hand on my back urging me forward, I can tell Jax doesn’t want to speak about it, so I let it go. It can hardly come as a surprise that Jax has a reputation, but seeing just how far it reaches is starting to ring some alarm bells.

We take a seat outside the deli and settle in. When Jax removes his sunglasses, his eyes are already on me in that focused, hypnotizing way of his.

“It’s not really fair,” he says.

“What?” I ask.

“I take my time over what clothes I wear. The fit, the shape, the color. I’m a very picky guy. But there you are, wearing the crap out of them. And making them look even better than I do.”

I chuckle and look away in embarrassment. Then I notice a girl inside the deli, staring out at us – at Jax – like she recognizes him.

“What is it?” Jax says, noticing my expression drop. “Something wrong?”

“No. No. It’s nothing,” I say, reflexively. I look at the girl again, who’s now biting her lip and smiling slightly. When I look back at Jax he’s still got the ‘detective’ eyes, and I break down. “Well, I was just thinking about that—”

The words: “Oh. My. God.” interrupt me, along with a long shadow that casts itself on the table between us. It’s the waitress, a skinny blonde with breasts that are either fake, or fake, and a skirt so short there has to be a restaurant regulation that she’s ignoring.

Jax and the waitress stare at each other, and my eyes flick between them as if it’s a table-tennis match. Jax’s expression is, like my own, surprised, and expecting an explanation. The waitress’s expression is the same half-knowing sideways smile that the Asian woman had, the dog-walkers had, and that the girl inside the deli window has.

“Yes?” I say, in a tone that comes out a lot more frustrated and piercing than I would have hoped.

“Oh, sorry,” the waitress says, suddenly noticing me like I was the one who just turned up. She looks from me, to Jax, before nodding at him like she suddenly ‘gets’ something, and then hands us the menus. “Here are your menus, and I’ll be back to check on you soon,” she says, before scurrying away like a cockroach when the light’s turned on.

Jax flashes a smile at me obliviously, and I shoot one back before hiding my face behind the thankfully-oversized menu.

If there were alarm bells ringing in my head earlier, now the whole fleet is running around on deck screaming ‘shut it down!’. Suddenly I feel like a sleepwalker who’s woken up on the edge of the Golden Gate Bridge – mid-step.

Don’t get me wrong here, I’m not ‘surprised’ that Jax has slept with a lot of women. It’s the entire reason I persuaded him to teach me in the first place. Neither am I surprised that those women remember him – and fondly, going by the way they seem about to tear his clothes off the second they see him.

What’s setting me off to code red is the fact that I’m feeling just a little bit too much envy and possessiveness right now. A little too comfortable. Sure, we’re having brunch together, and yes, I’m wearing his clothes – and sure, the things he said about me at the wedding were some of the sweetest things anyone has ever said about me.

But Jax is Jax, he’s the master of doing things that make girls swoon, cling, and remain attracted. I knew from the second I met him that if I let my guard down and started believing in the ‘routine,’ I’d be in deep trouble.

I’ve just spent eight years of my life letting myself be walked over because I got comfortable – I’m not about to do it all again.

Jax is not, will not, and cannot be the boyfriend type. Shut. It. Down.

“You ready to order?” Jax asks.

“Uh… Yeah.”

I play it cool through the meal. Matching Jax’s game of dry humor. He’s perceptive, and has read me like a book most of the time we’ve been together. This time, I don’t want to let on that there’s a war going on inside my head.

When we’re finished, and the still-staring blonde has taken the check, Jax suggests hanging out more, but I’m already standing up and on my way. I need a little time to myself, a little room to think. On top of that, the amount of random fucking, recovering from random fucking, and thinking about random fucking I’ve been doing the past few days has left me with plenty of errands to run.

That’s when it hits me: we only have two days left of our deal. Jax hasn’t even mentioned it—is it because he doesn’t care? Or has he forgotten? But no—of course he hasn’t forgotten. He only agreed to this arrangement because it was seven days, no strings. So it must be that it’s not on his mind—and why would it be? After this he can go back to his usual MO. Why would he want it to be any different?

I keep my composure as we say goodbye, and then I’m gone.

Just like that, I make the decision that I can’t be with Jax anymore. Screw our deal. I don’t need any more days with him. I’ve learned a lot, and I can’t afford to fall for this guy. And just like that, I meet somebody else.

After running home and spending a couple of hours pretending that I care about the stack of ‘urgent’ emails waiting for replies, and then tidying up my apartment, which feels twice as messy and small having spent the night in Jax’s, I check the fridge and realize I’m out of… well, everything. I’m long overdue a couple of nights comfort eating in my pajamas, and I don’t want to get caught without a pint of Ben & Jerry’s when I do, so I decide to make a trip to the grocery store.

I toss Jax’s clothes into the machine, put on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top, then make my way there – mentally listing the things I need so that my mind doesn’t slip back towards its default position of thinking about Jax.

As I toss both things that I shouldn’t buy, but that I know I’ll eat, and things I know I should buy, but that I won’t even consider eating, into my shopping cart, Jax texts.

There are no words, just a picture of his shredded, sweaty torso against the background of his personal gym.

I don’t want to, but I find myself staring at the perfection of Jax’s front like it’s the most delicious thing I’ve seen in the grocery store yet. I’m so compelled by it, that as I wheel my cart with one hand around the aisle, I jab the corner straight into the groin of a tall man on the other side.

“Oof!” he cries, crumpling over and hunching a pair of broad shoulders over his private parts.

“Shit! Oh my God! I’m so sorry,” I say, leaving my cart and putting a hand on his back.

He groans a little, stands up straight, and points a pair of deep blue eyes in my direction. As his eyes meet mine, his chiseled jawline sets itself into a warm, slightly goofy, but pretty damn sweet smile.

“That’s the best hit I’ve seen all afternoon,” he chuckles, and when I make a confused face he points at the badge on his workout clothes. “I coach a little league team.”

“Ah,” I say, as he adjusts his baseball hat and tries to hide a little wince. “Well, are you ok?”

“Yeah. I’ll be fine. I can always adopt.”

I laugh, and turn back to my cart.

“Hey,” he calls, as I’m about to continue down the cheese aisle. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

I look at him and try to remember if we’ve met.

“You’re a model, right?” he continues. “If you aren’t, then you definitely should be.”

For some reason, his innocent smile and gentle tone make me laugh shamefully. When I raise my head, tossing my hair back, I look him right in that sweet face and say: “Wow, you are really bad at that. That is maybe the worst line I’ve ever heard.”

He shrugs good-naturedly. “How would you do it?” he says, half-sincerely, half trying to just keep the conversation going.

I look him up and down, take in the good posture, handsome face, and easy manner.

“That baseball jacket is at least two sizes too big. You seem to have good muscles, you should show them off. And no lines, or at least, nothing that sounds like you don’t believe it. And lose the baseball cap – you’re not on the field now, and it makes you look like you’re hiding a bald patch or something.”

He takes his hat off and bows down on his knee like a king’s curtsey. “Nothing to hide, your honor.”

I laugh, and gesture him back up when I see someone looking at us.

“Are you an expert on this kind of thing, then?” he says.

“I’ve…picked up a few things,” I say, dismissively.

“Well, how much could you teach me in exchange for a coffee and a croissant? I know a great place just a couple of blocks from here.”

I roll a lock of hair behind my ear, musing over his offer.

“That’s… direct. Authoritative, without being douchey. Maybe you’ve got potential.” I’m amazed at how easily it’s all rolling off my tongue, until I realize: I sound like Jax. And then a second realization hits me: I’m good at this.

He cracks a wide smile and I notice how much his eyes sparkle over the stubble of his dimples.

“So is that a yes?”

“I don’t even know your name.” But I smile as I say it.

He offers his hand. “James.”

“Lizzie.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Lizzie.”

“Likewise.”

“So…?”

“It’s a ‘why not.’ Are the croissants pretty good?”

James’ grin gets even larger, revealing a set of very good teeth.

“They’re awesome. Shall we?”

As we make our way to the checkout, I get another message. It’s Jax again.

Tonight.

I glance at James, who looks back at me and makes a face. I snort a laugh, then turn back to my phone.

Same bar. Same time. I send back.

I guess I should tell Jax that the deal is over. And thank him for a job well done.