Wrecked (Dirty Air 3)

“No, but I know you.” His eyes rake over me, taking in my yellow summer dress. “Anything that makes Mum happy is always a good idea.”

Sigh. If only he treated other women in his life with the same respect. “Okay, sounds good. See you later.” I make a move to turn away. Jax’s hand grips mine softly, stopping me. My body instantly reacts to his touch like static sparking.

“Do you mind coming in for a second? I wanted to ask you a question about Caleb’s visit. The kid has been texting me ever since you gave him my number.” Jax opens the door wider for me to enter.

“Sure.” I take a few hesitant steps into his room.

“Let me get dressed.”

I check him out again. By all means, please don’t.

His beaming smile threatens to knock me out. He disappears into his bathroom, ending my perusal of his defined body. The very one covered in tattoos I want to explore in greater detail.

I take the opportunity to check out his childhood bedroom. Band posters cover one of the walls, showing off tour dates for Coldplay, Fleetwood Mac, and Stormzy. He has an old-school turntable with a box of vinyl records on his dresser. I flip through a few of them before pulling out Ed Sheeran’s Multiply album.

Jax comes out of his bathroom in jeans and a T-shirt. I hold back my sigh at the loss of his abs.

“Having you in here is like handing over my diary.” He comes up behind me. His body heats my back, making my skin pebble. His finger toys with the strap of my sundress.

“Didn’t you want to show me something?”

“Right.” His voice comes out rough.

I move to put the vinyl back, but Jax’s hand stops me. He plucks the record from my grasp and pulls it out.

“Big Ed Sheeran fan?” His breath heats my neck.

I attempt to suppress a shiver and fail. “The biggest.” I turn around. My chest brushes against his, eliciting the slightest inhale of breath from him.

“Maybe I’ll introduce you two.” Jax looks over my shoulder as he fiddles with the player. Ed Sheeran’s “I’m a Mess” begins playing.

“No way,” I squeal.

“I shouldn’t be jealous of the ginger fucker, but now I am.” His smile should send me running. It’s unusual for him, untroubled and tempting.

I want more of his smiles and more of this side of him, carefree and happy.

He makes a move to pull me in, but I sidestep him, hitting him with a mischievous smile of my own.

“You can’t take back that type of offer because of jealousy.”

“No take backs?” He lets out a low chuckle.

“No take backs,” I repeat as I walk toward the other side of his room where he has trophies and photographs lining the shelves. A picture stands out to me and I grab it. A teenage Jax smiles at the camera, ignoring the tattoo artist behind him while Vera sits next to him and pouts.

“Mum is pretending there. She’s the one who signed the release for me to get my first tattoo before eighteen.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. She even picked out my first tattoo.” Jax tugs the frame from my hands, his fingers brushing against mine. The touch sends a current of energy up my arm.

“No way.”

“Yup. At the time, I thought it was embarrassing, but I love it because it reminds me of her.”

My heart threatens to melt into a puddle at Jax’s feet. “Which one?” I grab onto the same arm from the photograph, searching the countless tattoos he has.

“Bet you can’t guess which one,” he teases.