I grab a mug and scowl. “Sorry. I think she misunderstood the terms and expected a morning romp.”
Jax laughs. “Ah, so she’s dicknotized.”
“What?” I ask incredulously.
“Hypnotized, but dick—”
“Yeah, got that part.” I laugh.
He sighs. “Everyone’s having sex but me.”
“Yeah? Maybe you should remedy that,” I joke.
“How was the party last night?” he asks, changing the subject.
“Same as usual.” I look over at my best friend, who’s looking down at his coffee with a furrowed brow. “One of these nights you should stay. I bet you’d like it.”
He wrinkles his nose. “Thanks, but I’ll pass. I won’t pretend to understand the kind of sexual deviant shit you’re into, and I most certainly don’t want to find out.”
I chuckle. “You’d be surprised.”
“You do you. But I don’t get it.”
I arch one of my brows. “Maybe it’s not about getting it. Maybe it’s about finding the right person to try it with,” I offer, watching his face as he considers my words.
Jax straightens and finishes his coffee. “Yeah. Maybe.” He looks at the door. “You certainly have a type.”
“Oh? Please do enlighten me, ye olde wise one,” I tease.
He grins. “Small, brunette, feisty…”
“I’ve fucked all kinds of women, Jax. I don’t have a type,” I interrupt. Setting my mug down, I walk to the other side of the kitchen and grab a pan. “I’m making an omelet. Want some?”
“Sure.”
I crack the eggs into a bowl and add cheese, sliced bell peppers, and mushrooms. Two minutes later, I’m sliding the perfectly cooked breakfast onto our respective plates.
Jax is staring into his second cup of coffee.
“Here.” I slide the plate to him. “Eat. You’re going to need your energy with those miniature tyrants.”
“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw,” he grumbles. “I’m so fucking tired. I need caffeine in an IV.”
I smirk. “I can have that arranged, you know.”
He gives me a withering look. “Fuck off, you rich bastard. I could sleep for twenty more hours. And I have to stay after work to help with the rehearsal for A Midnight Summer’s Dream, and then Juliet’s party…”
Fuck. Is that tonight?
I grip my fork tightly as my jaw clenches. Jackson must see my hesitation, because he sits up straighter and scrunches up his face.
“Hey, I’ve been meaning to say thanks—”
“Don’t worry about it,” I tell him quickly, suddenly too nauseous to eat. “It’s the least I could do.”
“You’re a good friend, Chase Ravage. And a good person.”
No, I’m not.
I give him a smile that’s probably more of a grimace as I take our plates and load the dishwasher. I wish he were right. I wish I could wear my heart on my sleeve, like him.
But my heart is locked away behind barbed wire and chains.
Only one person ever had the key, and she was too good for me. I pushed her away before she could find out.
Because I’d never be worthy of that key.
I’m not a good person, despite Jax’s insistence that I am. A small part of me often wonders if I inherited my father’s ruthlessness. If our blood was tainted. Corrupted. Cursed. My other brothers were the same. Single, and dealing with their own fucked up bullshit, never settling down. We all had our personal… preferences. For me, I liked control.
Order.
Domination.
Honesty.
Raw instinct.
The tabloids certainly think we’re all fucked up in the head, so they must be onto something.
“You’ve always thought too highly of me, Jax.”
He leans back and bobs his head. “No, I just see the real you behind the brooding asshole.”
“I’m not brooding.”
He laughs out loud. “Right.” He stands up and stretches. “All right, time to go change the world.”
I snort. “You sure do think highly of yourself.”
“Teaching is the most important job in the world,” he replies, holding a hand over his heart as if I’ve physically wounded him.
“Whatever. You know the offer to work with me still stands.”
“I’d rather choke on my own vomit before working in your corporate hellhole.” He gives me a sardonic smile. “But I do promise to be out of your perfectly coiffed hair soon. Thanks for letting me live here for a bit.”
“You know you can stay as long as you want. Mi casa es su casa.”
Jackson is the only reason I’m a halfway decent person. He latched on to me in ninth grade at Saint Helena and refused to let go, and we’d been best friends ever since.
Jackson rolls his eyes. “Thanks. I’m glad I gave Juliet some space. I definitely don’t need to hear my baby sister having sex,” he grimaces.
If silver could shatter, the fork in my hand would be dust on the floor right now.
Fuck me gently with a chainsaw.
“Didn’t think the dude had it in him,” I say carefully. I’m gritting my teeth together so hard that my jaw aches. “Dylan, right?”
I knew his name. I’d done my research years ago. An aspiring psychologist. He was “nice” and respected—my opposite in every way.
Parker deserved “nice.”
“Yeah. You met him at the—”
“I remember,” I growl.
How the fuck could I possibly forget last Thanksgiving? Giving into Jackson’s demands, I’d invited Miles and Liam to the Parker’s annual Thanksgiving potluck. We’d all crammed inside that tiny house, and I’d barely spoken a word to Juliet—or her boyfriend at the time.
I hadn’t seen her in years.
And I couldn’t get enough.
I had to get through dinner, watching as some other man touched her for all the world to see. As some other man kissed her. It turned me into something ugly and jealous.
I know I didn’t deserve to feel like I had any claim to her, but I did.
I always would.
Needless to say, I’d left that dinner early.
I still remember the disappointment written all over Parker’s face—the way she tried to persuade me to take some leftovers. The bolt of electricity when her fingers brushed against mine accidentally. The way I wanted her in that moment, and the way I envisioned sweeping everything off the dining room table and having my way with her… the way I needed her. And the way her eyes lingered on mine for a fraction of a second too long, like she knew…
I couldn’t stop thinking about the night she asked me to take her virginity.
And I couldn’t help but think I’d made the world’s biggest mistake by saying no.
I’d barely made it to my car before I unzipped my pants, threw my head back, and came all over the white leather seats of my newly refurbished vintage Bentley.
With the slightest touch, she’d turned me on.
Enough to make me stroke my cock outside of her house. I shouldn’t have been thinking of her that way. Like I always told myself, I didn’t deserve her. And in that moment, I felt like a terrible friend to Jackson.