Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3)(33)

The socks were a blue and pink plaid, and they were cute. “Thanks,” I muttered, distracted by the pleasant buzz invading my thoughts. Which was bad. Very bad. Like very, very bad, because there didn’t need to be any buzzing of anything. I bitch-smacked the buzz into next week. “You’re not staying—”

“Then you’re coming to my place? Awesome.”

My temples began to pound. “I’m not going to your place.”

Jax moved to the foot of the bed, near the mountain of pillows. That was one thing about Mom that never changed. She always had at least five pillows on a bed, and the pillows were never more than a month old. “Are you always so argumentative?”

I squinted at him. “Are you always so bossy?”

He cast a grin in my direction. “Honey, you haven’t seen bossy yet.”

“Yay . . .” I blessed him with some unenthused jazz fingers.

Smirking, he grabbed two pillows, and then rounded the bed. His long-legged pace carried him right to me, and he stopped only a few inches from my face. “You can tell me not to stay here all you want. Yell. Wiggle your fingers at me. Whatever. It’s not going to change anything because I seriously doubt you can make me leave this house. You get what I’m saying?”

I felt my eyes widen. Yeah, I got what he was saying, and I didn’t like it, so I wondered if I kicked him in the balls, if that would help him get what I was saying.

Jax tipped his chin down, and by doing so, his lips were within the same breathing space as mine. In spite of the irritation marching across my skin like an army of fire ants, my heart jumped in my chest. “I know deep down, you get why I’m here and why Clyde isn’t.”

Uh. Actually, I didn’t. I started to tell him that, but then he went on.

“I want to make sure you’re safe since you’re staying for . . . however long.” He shifted slightly, tilting his head to the side as he did. A heartbeat passed, and his eyes locked with mine. “And being here by yourself isn’t safe, so I’m going to make it safe for you.”

A breath pushed out between my now-parted lips. An urge rose out of nowhere. My body wanted to lean into his. Damn. That was the strangest thing ever. Never before had I wanted to lean into a guy. I’d read about the need, but never really believed in it. But it would feel safe to lean on him and to be close. The desire rode me hard, and worse yet, I knew his body would be warm, and it would be hard in all the right and interesting places.

Oh man, my thoughts were going down the wrong road—the pervy road—but I couldn’t stop it. Jax . . . he was beautiful in a way that seemed impossible, untouchable, and he also had great eyebrows. Seriously. Darker than his wavy hair. Naturally slanted. Striking. They were just eyebrows, but they were hot.

But it was more than that.

God Almighty, I might’ve just committed a cardinal sin just by thinking it, but he was like Cam 2.0.

Because from what I knew about Jax, he was nice, really nice, which made him oh so very dangerous to my mental well-being, but I imagined going crazy for him would be a fun adventure.

I just knew I probably wouldn’t recover from something like that.

But I could almost feel his lips on mine. When he’d kissed me earlier, it had been brief and to prove a point, but I could feel them now.

Something deep and warm stirred in his eyes, and I wondered if he knew what I was thinking. Oh God, I prayed to a chubby baby Jesus that he didn’t. His lashes lowered, and my lips tingled from the weight of his gaze.

“Yeah, I think you’re starting to get me.” Then he swaggered past me into the living room.

“I need an adult,” I muttered, slowly turning around to see him by the couch in the living room.

“Oh, before I forget—”

“Don’t change the subject!” I stomped my foot and was damn proud of it, too.

He looked over his shoulder at me, brows raised. “Did you just stomp your foot?”

Heat crept across my cheeks as I grumbled, “Maybe.”

Jax’s lips twitched. “Cute.”

“It’s not cute! And you’re not staying here. And I’m—”

“And you’re going to give me a ride home tomorrow morning when you head to the bar,” he finished, stopping in front of the couch.

“I’m not going . . .” My shriek faded off as his words sunk in. “What?”

“I’m going to need a ride tomorrow,” he repeated, dropping the pillows against one arm of the couch. “I drove your car here. The windshield’s been fixed.”

I stared at him for so long he probably thought something was wrong with me, and then I hurried past him to the window near the TV. I yanked the curtains and there it was, my Focus sitting in the driveway.

“Let me guess. No cable?” asked Jax.

“What?” I gazed out the window, my heart racing.

“The TV? Mona probably didn’t keep up on the cable bill.” What sounded like the remote dropped onto the coffee table. “I have cable at my place. HBO. Starz. Just saying.”

There was a knot in my throat as I faced him. “How . . . how much do I owe you for the windshield.”

“Nothing.”

“I need to pay you for that. It’s not the same thing as you getting me fast food. I’m not that broke. I can pay—”