Falling Away (Fall Away #3)(39)
Author: Penelope Douglas

Her mouth fell open, her eyes squeezed shut, and she cried out, moaning and gasping. I plunged my finger back inside her, feeling her body tighten and release around me, throbbing her quick pulse on my finger.

“Jesus,” I groaned, kissing her forehead and absorbing her body shuddering and shaking.

Her head fell into my chest, and I held her as her breathing slowed down.

“Jax, I—” She sounded nervous.

“Shh. Relax,” I said, even though my heart was still pounding like crazy, and my dick still hadn’t come down.

I pulled my shirt over my head and slipped it onto her, since her shirt was useless now. Sliding her limp arms in, she didn’t protest when I picked her up and carried her into my room.

“No more fun tonight.” I tried to keep my voice gentle, but they were the hardest words I’d ever had to utter. I wanted to strip, crawl under the sheets with her, mold my body to hers, and bury myself deep in her warmth all night.

“I don’t prey on girls that just ended five-year relationships, okay?” I said. “You’ve got time before I really start trying. Maybe tomorrow night.”

“Great,” she mumbled, sounding sarcastic but cute.

Laying her down, I shut off the light and kissed her lips. “Go to sleep. I just have some things to take care of, but I’ll be back up soon.”

Her eyes closed, and the two ever-present little wrinkles between her eyebrows disappeared as I watched her drift away.

“Jax!”

Someone pounded on my door, causing me to jerk. “Jax, you in there?”

CHAPTER 10

JULIET

I shot up in bed, fisting the sheet, as Jax strode for the door, whipping it open.

Looking over, I saw a young guy, nicely styled black hair, tattoos scaling down both arms, with several facial piercings. He peered around Jax, taking notice of me, and I immediately pulled the sheet up, embarrassed. I was fully clothed, but I was still trying not to be “that girl.”

Yeah, I needed to get over that.

“A couple of the guys have someone cornered downstairs,” he said to Jax. “Apparently someone saw him putting something in a girl’s drink. You want to deal with this?” he asked Jax, and then looked at me again. “Or you want us to handle it?”

Meaning Jax looked busy.

This guy wasn’t being snide or suggestive. He was asking Jax as though looking for orders. I turned away, shaking my head.

“Juliet, stay here,” Jax commanded, and I jerked my stunned gaze over to him just as he slammed the door shut.

Um, what? My eyes burned like light sabers at the closed door, and I clenched the black sheet. Was he serious?

Yeah. No. I wasn’t following orders like Jaxon Trent’s latest toy.

Throwing off the covers, I went to the mirror and smoothed my messy hair, pushing away the delicious burn of him pulling it earlier. Then I tucked in the front and back hem of his T-shirt so it wouldn’t make me look as though I had nothing on underneath. It wasn’t particularly baggy, but it was long as hell.

I turned to leave but stopped, noticing two pictures peeking out from underneath a wooden box on top of his dresser. I reached over and pulled them up, studying the women in the images. One picture was old, an actual photograph of a girl—maybe sixteen or seventeen—wearing a defiant look on her face and a Cure T-shirt. Next to her sat an older guy—early twenties—with a cigarette in his hand. He had Jax’s eyes.

The second photo was a rack card, advertising a club in Chicago that held some kind of show. The woman in the images was dark and beautiful, dressed in a black corset and top hat. She was hanging in the air above a full crowd, but I couldn’t tell what was holding her up.

I looked between the two pictures, seeing the resemblance between the women.

I quickly stuffed the photos back where I found them and walked for the door.

Stepping out of the room, I turned the corner and descended the stairs. The party was still going strong—it was only a little after midnight after all—but the crowd had thinned. I didn’t see Shane, Madoc, or Fallon anywhere, and I was little pissed off about that. My cousin, at least, should’ve checked in with me before she ditched me.

A few people lingered around the pool table, in the foyer, and I could hear voices coming from the kitchen. Everyone seemed heavily relaxed as they barely noticed me.

Five Finger Death Punch’s “Battle Born” droned out of the speakers, and I walked out the front door in my bare feet, ready to just go home, when I reared back, planting my footstep back where it came from.

Holy shit!

“Jax! Whoo!” someone cheered, and I sucked in air and pinched my eyebrows together in horror.

Jax’s naked back faced me as he hunched on the ground, slamming his fist into some poor guy’s face. Well, not poor guy if he was the one slipping drugs to an unknowing girl, but poor guy because he was obviously down, and Jax wasn’t stopping.

His arm shot back, the muscles in his triceps and back bulged, and his fist hammered down right on the guy’s face. Again and again, and I fought against the pitching sensation in my stomach.

When Jax brought his fist back again, I saw blood, and I raced down to the walkway at the bottom of the steps, thinking it might be his.

Wiping his bloody fist on his jeans, he stepped up, bringing his victim with him by the collar.

I veered around the crowd that had gathered and hugged myself against a chill that didn’t come from the air. Jax dug in the guy’s pocket, bringing out a few small vials of liquid, and handed them to the same guy who’d come to Jax’s room.

The dealer wobbled back and forth, blood dripping down his lips and chin, and Jax hovered down on him, damn near pressing the guy into the ground with the anger in his eyes. His lips moved, and he whispered something in the dealer’s face, but I couldn’t hear it. I doubted anyone could, and I knew there was a reason for that.

People shouted threats they never intended to keep. Others whispered threats they didn’t want witnesses to hear.

Dropping his hands, Jax talked to Tattoo Guy while everyone started to disperse. Then he turned around and locked eyes with me.

“I told you to stay upstairs.” His voice was quiet but hard and annoyed.

I dropped my eyes, trying not to see all the blood. “I think I’ll go home. I’m not even sure I want to know you right now.”

Some girls may want a tough guy. An alpha dog who pushes them around. Someone who beats up drug dealers on their front lawn. It struck me that I’d simply like someone who didn’t attract drug dealers in the first place.