I see him right away. Sitting at the back of the lounge, he’s holding court. He’s the king and these are his subjects. There are a bunch of people, men and women, trying to engage him in conversation, but he’s not paying attention to any of them. No, he barely notices when the women sway their hips. His gaze is in front of him, not breaking away from what holds his attention. Me.
We are locked in a stare as I approach. Neither one of us pulls away, even when he stands and leaves the table, heading right toward me. We don’t break. It’s like a gravitational pull between us.
The way he looks at me is unnerving. Butterflies fly in my stomach, and when he’s finally standing right in front of me, so close that our bodies almost touch and my head has to tip back so I can stare at him, I feel almost dizzy. I don’t know what’s happening. Who am I trying to kid? I know exactly what’s happening. I’m attracted to him. I want Jaxson Price.
But I can’t have him. I force my eyes to look away from him, roaming the vicinity to take in all the others now watching me. Wondering who I am. Wondering why I am here. And most of all, wondering what I mean to Jaxson. This question haunts me too.
“You came.”
“I didn’t really have a choice,” I reply.
“No, you didn’t.” He should pretend to care, but he has a smug as shit smile on his face that tells me even if he said I had a choice, I didn’t, and we both know it.
“You don’t fight fair.”
“No. I don’t,” he agrees.
“Well, now that you dragged my ass out . . .” I trail off.
“What can I get you to drink?”
“What are you having?” I ask, and he lifts his brow. I have to laugh at the look he gives me. His eyes wide, as if to say, really.
“Dumb question,” I remark. “Obviously, you are having tequila.”
His lips tip up into his familiar smirk. The dimple in his right cheek forms a divot. That dimple is deadly, forcing me to look away. I start to walk to the table when I feel his hand on my back, guiding me. But it feels like something more. It feels like he’s staking his claim. Which is ridiculous, right?
He leads us to the table, and I slide in. Maggie doesn’t. Instead, she signals for him to.
“I’m gonna dance.” She reaches forward and grabs the bottle of vodka, then grabs the glass. She pours it to the top, lifts it to her mouth, and takes a large swig. “But first, drink.” She smiles, then takes another swig, this time bigger than the last. I want to tell her to take it easy, but to be honest, there’s no point. She’s right. Tonight was a rough night.
Tonight was not the typical poker night. Yes, it was at Cyrus’s house again, but the crowd was different, more handsy and seedy. I want to ask her how she knows Cyrus and how she ended up with this gig, but I don’t. Maybe it’s fear, or maybe I don’t want to upset her when she’s done so much for me. Because I owe her. She’s helped me more than she knows, and I hate myself for not telling her the whole story too.
She let me in with a duffel bag on my back, no questions asked. She sat by my side as I cried and still never pried. And how do I repay her? By not telling her the truth. Because if anybody has a right to know, it’s her. Every day I’m with her, giving her no choice, I’m putting her life in danger.
One day, I’ll tell her. But today, I’ll let her drink and have fun. Because I owe her everything.
From beside me, I see Jax reach out and pour my drink, and then he pours his own. He hands my drink to me and then lifts his.
“What are we toasting to?” he asks.
“What do you want to?”
“To finally getting you out?”
“I go out with you all the time.”
“But not like this.” His voice is husky and decadent like warm chocolate dripping over me. I want to reach out and grasp it, but I can’t.
His innuendo makes me warm and fuzzy inside. Coming here was a bad idea, but then I look at Maggie, who has a large smile on her face, her eyes glassy, but she looks relaxed. She sees me smiling at her and waves her drink at me. I lift mine to her, then I take a sip.
The liquid is harsh against my tongue, but soon, I feel warmth pooling in my belly. I’m pretty sure the booze isn’t working that fast, and it’s actually my proximity to Jax making me warm, but I look down at my drink and pretend. Ignorance is bliss and whatnot.