No, it’s definitely not a crush. This is more like that feeling you get when you have an itchy bite under your foot, or when you sit in gum.
Jaxson is nothing but an arrogant asshole, albeit a hot as hell asshole. He’s an asshole, nonetheless.
He’s right. Since I’ve met him I’ve been using the word asshole way too much.
Mindlessly, I look up the definition of the word.
Merriam-Webster: A stupid, annoying, or detestable person.
No, not quite the definition I’m looking for when it comes to Jaxson West. I scroll down until I find one which makes me smile.
Bingo!
Urban Dictionary: A guy who thinks he is the shit. In his eyes he can get ANY girl he wants. He thinks he can sleep with any girl. Not only that, he is just an ass to anyone and everyone.
We have a winner.
Jaxson scares the shit out of me when he suddenly flops down on the couch. I didn’t hear him come in.
“Are you watching porn?” He grabs my laptop, and before I can try to get it back, he reads the definition out loud.
This cannot be happening right now.
I fight the urge to crawl under the couch as waves of embarrassment hit. It doesn’t help that he’s still shirtless. I can’t keep my eyes from feasting on his muscular chest and golden skin. For a senseless moment, I wonder what it would feel like to run my hands over his chest.
He closes the laptop and places it on the coffee table before leaning back against the couch and throwing his arm behind me. I quickly move my eyes to his face so he doesn’t catch me gawking at him.
I want to slap the smug look right off his face when he leans closer.
“You’ve been thinking about me.”
“Get over yourself,” I snap, feeling my victory of earlier slipping away.
“Don’t worry, Princess. You’re not my type.”
I don’t know why hearing that upsets me, but I refuse to let it show.
“Like I care. You most probably find your kind at the nearest corner.”
He lets out a sinister laugh which tells me I’m pushing all his buttons.
Glad to know I’m getting under his skin.
“Sweetheart, I like them to be of age and with a set of tits you can actually see without having to use a magnifying glass. I’ll need GPS to find whatever you’ve got hidden under that shirt.”
What. The. Hell?
His words hit hard, making my heart ache with the sting of not being good enough. I know I don’t have perfect breasts, but for him to blatantly point it out like that makes me feel self-conscious and flawed.
Unable to be around him for a second longer, I get up and take the bottle of water back to the kitchen. I do my best to shove the negative emotions away. The last thing I want is for him to see how much his words have upset me.
I wish Willow were here. Hell, I’d be happy if any of the girls came home right now, but they’re all at school. I should’ve locked the front door behind me.
I hear him get up and keep my back turned to him as he walks into the kitchen. He opens the fridge, and I wish I could trust myself to tell him to go to hell without crying out of pure hurt and anger.
“For a bunch of women, you have a lot of junk in here.”
“Please leave.” I force the words out between clenched teeth, fisting my hands to keep control of my temper. My wounded self-esteem is quickly morphing into white-hot rage.