Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

Jax suddenly lifts himself up against the headboard. I rush to look away, but the smile on his face tells me how busted I am.

“Elena Gonzalez, were you checking me out? I’m flattered.”

“Please.” I roll my eyes. “I was questioning how quickly I could suffocate you with the pillow.”

“If someone told me I’d die in bed with you, that wouldn’t have been my first guess.”

My eyes drop to the hotel carpet as heat floods my cheeks. “I can’t believe you kiss your mom with that mouth.”

“She doesn’t mind me. It’s not my fault you have your Apple pencil permanently implanted up your arse,” Jax snaps.

I try to ignore the way his muscles tense and ripple from the quick movement, but I only have so much self-control around him. “Moving on… I have your first activity planned to help repair your image. Get ready because we have to be there in an hour. And be sure to wear workout clothes.” I exit his room without a backward glance. Let’s be real, I don’t have the kind of self-restraint needed to watch him get out of bed.

Jax meets me in the living room twenty minutes later. Adidas pants cling to his muscular legs and his black T-shirt emphasizes his toned form.

I’m tempted to hit myself for planning an event where I get to see him in all his fine glory.

“You’re going dressed like that?” Jax’s eyes start at my boxer braids a la Million Dollar Baby before roaming over my top and leggings.

“Yes. We’re going to be getting physical.” I do a little fist pump that should’ve stayed in an eighties’ workout video.

“Fuck my life,” he grumbles under his breath as we leave the hotel room.

His reaction fills me with pride I shouldn’t feel. No matter how much I desire his hidden glances and taunting, I resist for his sake and mine.

A quick car ride later, we arrive at the location of Jax’s first event.

“Shit. A boxing gym?” He looks at the lobby with wide eyes and an open mouth.

I smile at him. “Surprise! I’ve heard you like to box as part of your workout routine, so I thought it would be a good idea. At least it’s something you’re interested in besides your usual extracurricular activities.”

“Are you hinting at my sex life again?” he tsks.

“What sex life? The one with your right hand?”

Fans stare at us from all directions as Jax curls over, laughing. Even I’m caught up in his reaction—happy and carefree.

I regain my composure and pull him toward the welcome table.

“Fighting Back Against Domestic Violence. Nice choice.” He shoots me a genuine smile. One making him look youthful and unplagued with the worries bothering him more than he cares to admit.

“I thought it was an amazing cause to donate to. I invited a bunch of people from F1, plus local businessmen. All the proceeds are going to a UK-based charity helping support women once they leave their abusers.”

It took some additional planning, but I love the cause. I watch lots of documentaries, and one about a woman who described the grueling process of escaping her abuser stuck with me. I vowed to give back, so here I am, with Jax’s money funding the cause. Plus, I thought it would be the perfect first event to warm Jax up to my help while keeping his interest.

Fans and guests walk around us, chatting and participating in a silent auction. Mass amounts of people registered earlier, including F1 fans who are willing to donate a hundred euros for a few minutes in the sparring ring with Jax, Liam, Santiago, or Noah.

I turn to find Jax’s eyes on me. A weird sensation takes up a spot in my stomach, similar to the one I have when a plane is about to land. “I told you I’d help you with your reputation. But I didn’t mention how I plan on helping lots of people along the way with the help of your plush bank account and celebrity connections.”

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nbsp; “Only you would use my fame to help raise money for philanthropies. Bloody hell.”

“Your compliment got lost somewhere within your comment.”

“I don’t even mean it as a jab. It’s… This is incredible.” He looks around with bright eyes and a large smile. Almost as if he feels at home in the gym, surrounded by sneakers squeaking and swinging punching bags.

Before I have a chance to comment, the main person I hired to help set up the event interrupts us. She explains the goals for the day while Jax intently listens. His willingness to participate surprises me, especially when he messages other racers to make sure they’re coming.