Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3)(70)

What was I doing here?

There couldn’t be an “us” that involved orgasms and showers and songs being sung and breakfasts. I didn’t plan on being here forever and I planned on going back to college in August once I got the approval for financial aid, and that’s what I wanted, right? There was no future between us.

I blinked slowly.

And I needed to be focused on finding my mom so I didn’t end up getting cut up by some low-level gangsta, or worse yet, meeting this Isaiah face-to-face.

More important, someone like Jax couldn’t be in my life. The skin along my back had the consistency of—

So caught up in my own head, I hadn’t heard the water shut off, so when the bathroom door opened and Jax stepped into the bedroom, I wasn’t expecting it.

He had a towel knotted around his lean hips and his hair was soaked, brushed back off his forehead, and his entire body was on display.

Yummy eye candy for the win.

Damn, he looked good. Like good enough that I might’ve been drooling again.

“You want to shower before we head out?” he asked, strolling toward the bed like he wasn’t wearing anything more than a towel.

“Huh?”

A half grin appeared. “A shower? Do you want to shower?”

I was an imbecile. “Yes,” I squeaked, popping out of the bed. I grabbed my clothes off the dresser. “A shower is a great idea,” I rambled on, trying not to look at him. “You’re so smart.”

Jax twisted sideways as I passed him and smacked my behind.

I jumped and emitted another squeal out of shock, and he chuckled. Looking over my shoulder to shoot him a glare, I then realized he hadn’t smacked me with his hand.

It was the towel that had been around his hips.

And I was not only staring at his muscled back, which, wow, was a nice back, but also his muscled ass. “Oh my God!” I shrieked. “You’re naked!”

That chuckle turned into a laugh, and I whipped around, almost throwing myself into the bathroom, but it was too late. Those firm globes were seared into my memory.

He’d been naked! Totally freaking naked, and didn’t care. Complete lack of modesty there, and that further cemented there could never be an “us.” I had more modesty than a church full of old nuns.

I took advantage of the soap that smelled like him and the two-in-one shampoo and conditioner. It wasn’t until after I showered, had changed into my own clothing, and was twisting my wet, combed hair into a bun at the top of my head that I realized I had no makeup on.

Nothing.

What had been left on my face this morning had rubbed off a bit, letting the scar show more clearly. Dermablend was serious stuff, but it was most definitely off my face now.

“Oh God.”

My wide eyes stared back at me in the reflection, the blue so bright in the early morning sun coasting in through the small square window. My face had that peaches-and-cream complexion without the Dermablend—a coloring that no makeup in the world could replicate. If I saw only the right side of my face, I knew I looked better without the makeup, but I didn’t walk around with only half of a face.

Without makeup, the scar was still a deep shade of pink, standing out starkly against my complexion, slicing from the corner of my left eye almost to the corner of my lip. It was the only thing I could see.

“Calla?”

I stiffened at the sound of Jax’s voice and then gripped the sink. I couldn’t go out there. It was ridiculous, but I couldn’t let him see me like this.

“Are you okay?” he called.

Holding my breath, I turned toward the door. Would it be obvious if I walked out with a towel over my head? I was being stupid. I knew this, but Jax had just been kissing me, he’d had his hands on me, and he’d touched me, making me feel something so beautiful and this—this was so ugly. I didn’t want him to . . .

A whoosh of cold air swept through my body and I closed my eyes, drawing in several deep breaths. Jax knew the scar was on my face. He’d been all up close and personal with my face. He even kissed—

The bathroom door swung open, banging into the wall, and my eyes popped open as Jax barged in.

I hadn’t locked the bathroom door.

Le sigh.

He did a body scan, as if he were checking to see if I was injured or something. “Jesus,” he ground out. “I thought you fell in here and knocked yourself unconscious or something.”

Well, that was kind of embarrassing, but not the most pressing issue. I angled my body to the left so he could see my right profile. “I can’t go to breakfast.”

“What?”

“I can’t go to breakfast. I need to go back to the house.” I knew it sounded irrational and stupid. “Can we go back to the house?”

Jax shifted and his denim-clad leg came into my view. His feet were bare, poking out from the frayed hem of his jeans. “Why?”

“I just need to go back to the house. If you want to go ahead to IHOP, I can get my car and meet you there. That would probably—”

“Hell no.”

My chin jerked up and dipped to the left. “Excuse me?”

His eyes flashed with anger. “We’re not taking separate cars when I just had my hand between your legs and you came while calling my name.”

I opened my mouth, but really, what do you say in response to that?