Managed (VIP 2)

Jax snaps his fingers. “Right. He clearly listened well.”

Fuckwit.

“Good advice which would apply to you as well, would it not?”

Jax nods, still grinning that smug little shitter grin. “It would.”

I take a calming breath, which bursts out of my lungs when Jax smiles wide and says, “But don’t worry, there wasn’t much sleeping involved.”

My breathing goes haywire.

“Careful,” Brenna whispers in my ear. “Your knickers are getting all twisted.”

I wrench my head in her direction, and she pales.

“Ack, joke gone bad, joke gone bad,” Brenna wails, flapping her hands. “Run away. Run away.”

Jax watches her go, a smile on his lips. “What’s with her?... Hey, man.” He holds his hands up. “Easy with the crazy eyes. It’s just Sophie.”

Wrong thing to say.

“What’s just me?” Sophie asks, appearing at my side.

I round on her. “You.”

“Me.” She points to her chest then to Jax. “Jax. We all speak good now.”

Jax chuckles, but when I glare at him, he suddenly becomes invested in scurrying off toward Killian and Libby.

Sophie frowns. “What’s that all about?”

“Are you fucking Jax?”

Her eyes go wide and shocked. Guilty? I can’t tell. It annoys me further.

A flush rushes over her cheeks. “Are you serious with this?”

Yes. No. I don’t fucking know.

“Answer the question, Sophie.”

She glances around before grabbing me by the arm. I let her lead me away because I want an answer. She stops in the narrow gap between my coach and the band’s.

“Look, you,” she hisses, poking my shoulder. “I don’t have to tell you a fucking thing about my personal life.”

“You cease to have one if you start fucking the band members.”

“Members?” she squeaks. “So, what? I’m fucking my way through them now? Is that it?”

The thought is so repellant, bile fills my stomach. My fists clench. “Jax. Let’s concentrate on Jax now. Did you sleep with him?”

“I cannot believe you’re asking me this,” she snaps. “That you’re actually snorting like some sort of enraged bull and expecting me to answer.”

“I did not snort. I merely asked a question. Which I want an answer to. Now.”

The flush rushes down to the tops of her breasts. “Fuck you, Scottie. I don’t know who you think you are, but let me tell you, I’m not some empty-headed bimbo you can bark at. I am done with this conversation.”

She turns to go, her expression utterly closed off for the first time since I’ve met her. But I saw the hurt I caused, and the humiliation, before she shut down. The bottom drops out of my gut.

“Sophie.” I grab hold of her and spin her around.

Her shoulders meet the side of the bus before I cage her in. She struggles, even as I press close. My cheek touches hers, and she stills. For a long, painful moment we both just breathe, heavy and agitated.

“You’re right. I have no say,” I whisper into her hair. My lids lower, and I draw in another lungful of her sweet scent. “And I don’t think you’re a bimbo. I only wanted to… That is…” I choke on a curse. “Not with one of the boys, all right? Not them. Please.”

A breath shudders out of her, and I feel it along my neck. My back tenses, my skin prickling. It’s all I can do to remain still, not rock into her softness. I know she’s wondering why I’m demanding this. I won’t be able to tell her she’ll rip my guts out if she does, that I won’t be able to focus for shite if she’s with one of the guys. If she’s been with Jax…

A tremor runs through my body as I struggle to hold still.

Her breath hitches again. If she touches me, I might shatter. But she doesn’t. She simply sighs. “You’re such an ass.”

“Established.”

“A reactionary ass,” she says bitterly. “Who apparently can’t be bothered to realize there’s no way I could have been with Jax last night when I was with you.”

My head hits the side of the bus with a thud as my body sags against hers. Relief and embarrassment are a warm, sticky cocktail swimming through my blood. “Shit.”

“Yeah, shit,” she repeats with soft sarcasm. “He covered for me when everyone caught me doing the walk of shame back to my room. Though he doesn’t know who I was actually with.” Her small fist nudges my ribs. “Now get off me before someone sees us and they really start talking.”

With a grunt, I push off the bus and take a step back. Her cheeks are flushed a lovely rose, her eyes shining with anger. I feel all of two feet tall. I’m not this man—out of control, possessive, foolish.

I run a hand over my tie. “I spoke out of turn.”

She purses her full lips, her narrowed gaze demanding more.

I swallow hard. “I should have asked—“

“No,” she snaps. “You should have minded your business.”