Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3)(50)

I glanced down at my photo, all blond ringlets and big smile, with big fake white teeth—flippers, they were called flippers, and I hated the way they felt and tasted. The fake teeth had hurt my mouth, but when I wore them Mom said I was beautiful. All the judges said I was beautiful. I won awards because of the stupid teeth. Dad . . . he would just shake his head. “What?”

“Leave you for days without food and basic shit to take care of yourself.”

Shrugging, I shook my head. “Clyde would usually come over and stay with me. Or I’d stay with him. It wasn’t a big deal.”

“That’s a big deal, honey,” he said quietly.

My gaze lifted to his and there it was again, that something in his stare I didn’t understand but wanted to. I lifted the photo again, practically shoving it in his face. “I used to be really pretty,” I whispered, sharing the secret. “See? I used—”

“There is no ‘used’ to be.” He snatched the frame out of my hand, and my mouth dropped open as he tossed it. The photo whizzed through the air, bouncing off a cushion and landing harmlessly on the couch. “You’re really f*cking pretty now.”

I opened my mouth and I laughed real loud. Might’ve even snorted. “You’re so . . .”

“What?” His lips turned down.

“You’re so . . . f*cking nice,” I finished, raising my arms in a grand gesture. “You’re nice. And you’re a liar.”

“What?” he repeated.

I plopped down on the couch, suddenly tired and maybe a little dizzy. “I’m not really pretty.”

He stared down at me. “I just said you’re really pretty now. So you are really pretty. Fucking end of discussion on that.”

My mouth opened to point out all the reasons why that wasn’t true, but then I shrugged. It was nice of him. I’d take it. “You’re nice,” I stated again. “This was nice. Thank you for doing this with me. I mean, I’m sure you could be doing like loads more interesting stuff than babysitting me while I got drunk for my first time.”

He tilted his head to the side. “You don’t need to thank me.”

“Thank you,” I murmured.

One side of his lips kicked up. “Anytime you want to drink, I’m here for you.”

Well, that was nice, too. Out of nowhere, a knot formed in my chest. It felt wet and messy. “Really?”

He nodded. “Like I said, you’re safe with me. Whenever. Seriously. Whatever you want to explore, you’ll always be safe with me.”

Those words . . . oh gosh, those words unhinged something in me. Not that I had felt unsafe. Well, things weren’t warm and fuzzy when I lived with Mom, and shit had obviously gotten hairy a time or two.

“Actually, you know . . . I think I can help you knock off a few of those other things on your list,” he continued, and that lopsided grin spread into a full smile that could stop hearts.

I wasn’t really listening to him, because I was staring at him as that knot moved from my chest to my throat, and it was most definitely wet and messy. Jax was more than just a hottie to end all hotties. He was nice—nicer than Jase, probably even Cam and even Brandon.

He said I was safe with him.

And he said I was really f*cking pretty.

I sprang up and toward him. Didn’t even stop to think about what I was doing, but I was up on my feet, and less than a second later, I was throwing my arms around Jax’s neck.

My sudden movement caught him off guard and he stumbled back a step before he steadied himself. A moment passed, and then his arms circled me, folding around my back.

“Thank you,” I said, my voice muffled against his chest—his really hard chest. “I know you said not to thank you, but thank you.”

He didn’t respond right off. Instead, one arm loosened and his hand trailed up my spine, tangling in the ends of my hair. A rush of shivers followed that hand, and those shivers spread out through my arms, to the tips of my fingers and down to my toes, and everywhere in-between, especially the in-between part.

God, his chest was really hard.

I lifted my face off said chest and then raised my lashes. Jax was staring down at me, a soft smile curved on his lips. His other hand shifted off my lower back, and smoothed its way to my hip, and great googley moogley, that felt good. So good I didn’t even take into consideration what he might’ve been able to feel through my shirt and tank top.

Tequila was f*cking awesome.

His warm chocolate gaze drifted over my face as his hand tightened on my hip, which caused lots of my muscles to go squishy. “I’m glad you came home, Calla.”

My heart stopped. The freaking world stopped. “Really?” I heard myself say.

“Really,” he replied.

Okay. I didn’t care if it was the tequila making me hear things, and I didn’t care that my entire chest was turning to mush, and if that made me dumb or not, and I didn’t care that I was about to do something I’d never done before, or that the room was spinning slowly like we were on a merry-go-round.

I stretched up on my toes as I lowered my hands to his shoulders and I went for his mouth. I was going to kiss him. I’d never tried to kiss a guy before, but I was going to do it now. I was going for a home run of my lips against his wonderful lips, because he said I was safe, and that he was glad I came home, and that I was really f*cking—