Page 51 of Kiss Marry Kill
“I saw you dated Tim Trammel.” Tim was an A-list actor who was always on magazine covers, and when Jax had looked Megan up a week ago, there were dozens of photos of the couple together. It had stung.
“Yes, for almost a year. He’s a good guy but we kind of had your problem. Hard to date someone who’s never in town. He was away filming more often than not. And I was on tour a lot too. So we just sort of fizzled out.”
They were sitting across from each other, Megan on one side of the bed and Jax on the other. Both in just towels, talking about past lovers.
He was beyond jealous that anyone had seen her naked, touched her skin, smelled her scent, kissed her lips. Somewhere deep inside, he’d pictured her married in a content life. Preferably a platonic, sexless life. Even that had driven him a little nuts, but never had he pictured her still out there—dating. Sleeping with different men. Suddenly, the idea of Megan with anyone but him made him want to pound his chest and demand she never be touched by anyone else ever again. Because even if he couldn’t be the man for her, no one else would be good enough for her.
And wasn’t that fucked up?
Another drop of water slid down her neck and over the curve of her chest. He wanted to follow its trail with his tongue before pulling the coarse cloth of the towel aside and exploring even further. Jesus, his balls were heavy with need and his cock was painfully hard. How the hell was he supposed to get through the night without touching, tasting?
“What’s next on your list of crazy shit you’re going to make me do?” he asked, his eyes following the trail left by the droplets.
“Haven’t thought about it. Doing the planning mostly off the cuff.”
He nodded. The conversation was stilted, mostly because he could see the tendrils from her hair falling out of the bun on her head. More drops of water still lingered around her long neck, and the valley between her breasts moved up and down with each shallow breath she took. The room was too small and too hot for the two of them to be alone together. He needed her so fucking bad. So fucking bad.
“Had you been to the Bahamas before?” she asked, her voice hoarse. She was obviously trying to make small talk, but the air was so thick it was obvious her thoughts were also on the tension in the room. Her cheeks were flushed and he could see her neck bob when she swallowed and her eyes drift to his bare chest. Through the towel, her nipples peeked out, hardened, and he knew it had absolutely nothing to do with the air. She was turned on.
Jax almost groaned when she inconspicuously pressed her legs together. It was a clear sign that she needed some relief. God, how he wanted to be that relief. . . .
She continued anxiously playing with the thread at the end of the towel as her eyes roamed his body, making his cock harden with each second that ticked by. He couldn’t even pretend to cover it up if he wanted to.
“Meg,” he said, his voice thick. His eyes were on her pink plump lips. Her tongue peeked out to wet her bottom lip and a deep guttural groan escaped his mouth.
“Yes,” she whispered, or maybe even whimpered. It was that low and his concentration was lacking.
“I don’t want to talk about the Bahamas. In fact, I don’t give a fuck about the Bahamas.”
She swallowed, her breathing shallow, her eyes glazed. “You don’t?”
He shook his head.
“What do you give a fuck about, Jackson?”
“How fast I can get from this side of the bed to that one and have my tongue in your mouth and my cock inside of you.”
The time for thought and sensibility was over. She dropped her grip on her towel at the same time Jax pounced, pushing her onto her back, slamming his lips against hers. Naked, she wrapped herself around him. His heart was beating so profoundly he wanted to consume her, love her so hard and fiercely they would never know where one started and one ended.
And fuck him, he didn’t think he’d ever let her go.
Chapter 9
FIVE YEARS EARLIER
Megan’s cell phone was burning a hole in her pocket. It was all she could think of. He’d given it back to her a few minutes ago with the promise she wouldn’t use it. Turning it on meant facing her problems, so she put it on the counter as she took a quick shower and tried to stop thinking about the fact that she was in Jax’s house—the house of a man she had just met while breaking up with her boyfriend in the middle of some sort of life-changing epiphany at a baseball game.
She barely recognized herself.
Once she was out of the bathroom, wearing a too-big gray US Marines T-shirt and some way-too-big gym shorts, she padded to the living room. Jax sat on his big brown couch with a beer in his hand, his bare feet on a wooden coffee table, looking relaxed and at home in his space. “I took a quick shower too,” he said when she walked in.
She should’ve gone straight to bed, since it was so late, but instead she sat next to him.
“You don’t drink beer, but I might have wine, not sure if I have soda. I do have milk, which I need to use since it’ll go bad and I hate throwing away a good gallon of milk.”
“I’m okay, thanks,” she said, facing the television. She pointed to the screen. “I love Jaws. Scares me every time, but I love it.”
“You’re a scary movie kind of girl?”
