Jax (Titan #9)(51)

"I wasn't trying to pry."

"It's fine."

Yikes. Clearly, it wasn't fine.

"Hi there." One of Mayhem's girls appeared the second her ears heard an empty beer bottle touch the table, and she handed Jax a fresh beer.

Gruffly, he nodded as the girl scurried away.

"Forget what I said, Jax, and we'll call it almost-trust." All she wanted was for him to lighten up. "Pseudo-trust." Seven leaned back to his cheek and kissed him. "Come on. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"Don't worry about it. I just…"

"Don't explain. I'm keeping my own secrets too. Big ones. Big, manly, Mayhem, Titan-sized secrets."

He chuckled.

"Thank the Lord." She threw her arms in the air as if she were praising the gospel at church. Then she clinked her beer bottle against his. "Jax is back."

Seven didn't have a big secret, but if it meant lying to bring him back to a better place, then she would. As long as he didn't check up on her badass BS, because if Jax asked anyone, they would say Seven was an open, boring book. "I'm glad you laughed. Let's have a couple drinks and celebrate the almosts in life."

A thousand things seemed to cross his face when she offered that, but he finally took his bottle and knocked it against hers. "To the almosts. To forgetting and moving on."

"Cheers." Her smile was fake because, for a moment, this had almost felt real, but it was a job for both of them, and they would forget and move on.

Hell. It wasn't even an almost.

It wasn't even real.





CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN


The girl who had been refilling Jax's beers reappeared, but this time she had liquor bottles in hand and was flirting. She held up a bottle of vodka and a darker one of bourbon. "White or red?"

"Cute." Seven laughed warily, but liquor wasn't in her plans tonight. "I'm good. Jax?"

"He's thirsty. I know these things." The liquor girl crawled onto the couch next to them, pitching both bottles forward as though she were ready to pour them into his mouth. "Open up, good lookin'."

His body shook with the silent rumble of his laughter, and Seven noticed that he didn't leer and look like so many did when leather-clad beauties crawled toward them with liquor.

"Come on, sweet cakes."

Seven chuckled to herself, not the only one who noticed how he didn't flirt with her.

"What's tall, dark, and handsome's name?"

"Jax." His lack of flirting served only to make her inch forward. "What's yours?"

"What do you want it to be?"

He shook his head. "What the fuck are parents thinking these days? I bet you never find a key chain with your name on it."

Seven choked on a laugh.

"Is he serious?" Her forehead wrinkled in pissed-off confusion. "It's Grace. Or Gracie. Or whatever you want to call me."

His eyebrows arched. "Like 'What Do You Want It To Be'?"

"Ignore him," Seven recommended.

Grace kneeled back on her heels and rested both bottles on her thighs, pouting. "They say I don't do my job unless I keep the guests happy."

"Trust me. I'm happy." Jax pointed to Seven's hair. "Who can't be happy around this bubble of sunshine? Poof of cotton candy?"

Seven exchanged glances with Grace. "I think I'm his first pink-haired girl."

Jax snorted.

Grace giggled. "I can't tell if he's funny or grumpy."

"Welcome to the club."

"You two think you're cute, don't you?"

"No, no, not with that sourpuss face." Grace inched closer to them on the couch.

"I do," Seven volunteered. "All kinds of cute."

Jax squeezed Seven's side. "You're something."

Ticklish, she moved from his hands but found herself close to his ear. "Come on now, sourpuss. You're here to fit in, aren't you?" Her lips lingered, and she liked the way he smelled clean and masculine in a room packed with liquor and smoke. Seven curled against his hard torso as his hand possessively settled on her naked back.

"Ready now?" Grace tried again. "Seven, tell him my job's to make him happy and drunk."

Seven twisted and pressed her fingers to his chin. "Grace's job is to make you happy—"

"Already told you. You have that covered."

Suddenly scared the night would end and not wanting to feel as strongly as she did for the man who told her he couldn't commit, Seven turned to Grace. "I'll go first. That's the best I can do."

Jax grumbled as Seven tilted her head. Bourbon hit her tongue, overflowing into her mouth, and slipped down her throat. The burn was a wildfire, so sweet and searing that Seven's eyes shut. It overtook her senses and woke her nerves, spiraling to the tips of her fingers and the depth of her pussy.

Drips of liquor slipped to her chin and neck as she closed her mouth and swallowed, and the liquor girl leaned close and licked the bourbon trail from her skin.

Jax tightened his hold, and Seven opened her eyes, locking her bourbon-burned gaze on the handsome man she wanted to be with anywhere. A Mayhem party. Colombia. Iowa. Wherever. The afterburn of a shot always had clarity, and this one told her she was where she needed to be.