Jax (Titan #9)(52)
Grace angled the bottle. "Your turn, muscles."
He simply opened his mouth, tilting his head back a few degrees, and she poured the liquor down his throat. But Jax didn't close his eyes. He kept his gaze on Seven until he nodded and Grace ended the flow. Then he shut his lips and swallowed.
"No one says no to bourbon." Grace faded away, and Seven didn't care if she stayed or not.
Kissing the corner of Jax's mouth, she followed the trail of his bottom lip, licking along the line, brushing her mouth against his chin and back to the fullness of his kiss. She wrapped an arm around his neck, angling to kiss him better. Her tongue probed against his, hot and wet. He tasted of bourbon and a night that was just getting started—
The crackling sound of a sparkler in the hotel room pulled them apart, and Jax protectively pulled her to his side. Mood effectively killed, though the liquor hadn't gone away because of morons and their pyrotechnics.
She pulled back. "How much longer do we stay?"
Jax eyed the room. "Until we see everything worth seeing."
Seven sighed. That could go on all night, no telling. But, bonus, Grace had left the bourbon bottle on the couch. "Good to know I have my secret weapon."
"What's that, princess?"
She pointed him toward the bottle left for them. "The key to switching your frown upside down is liquor with a little burn and kick."
"Not true. But since it's here…" Jax picked up the bottle, tilted Seven's head back with the tip of his fingers, and poured alcohol into her mouth. Then he did the same for himself. The bourbon coursed down her throat as she savored the buzz. Seven didn't drink often and rarely was it liquor, but perhaps it was time for the "when in Vegas" attitude. She couldn't be safer than surrounded by Mayhem and Titan. No kids. No responsibility.
She opened her eyes, and Jax's eyes were tight at the corners. "What?"
He put the bottle down and roughly dragged a needy hand up until he squeezed the nape of her neck then threaded his fingers roughly into her hair. Jax angled her mouth against his. He was hungry and heavenly, seductive and sensitive, finally leaving her breathless and uncaring who saw how this man could make her pant.
"I needed to check something." His dark eyes were nearly black, and the roughness in his voice nearly scorched her leather skirt away.
"What are you talking about, Jax?"
"It's not the liquor."
Her heart started to race, desperately trying to keep pace with the lust that was steamrolling through her veins. "I'm sorry?"
"I tried the liquor. Then I tried you."
"Jax…" Her whisper sounded whiskey-scratched, and she couldn't breathe for wanting to feel the high of him and her mixed together—words, touches, kisses. Everything.
"You make me feel right."
Seven hooked her other wrist behind his neck, locking her fingers together, and inched forward until she pressed her forehead to his. The longest storm of seconds passed. They didn't blink. The alcohol in her blood could've made her dizzy, but it only made Mayhem and friends fade away. Her pink hair enclosed them in a haven. "Don't look now." She licked her lips. "But…"
"But?"
"You are so romantic."
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
If one more Mayhem party hostess made an offer to Jax, he was calling the night short. This hotel suite was like a motorcycle club's version of a 1960s Playboy Club, complete with cigarette girls. Except the offerings included joints in addition to a cigarette or shot. His head swam with more liquor than he'd wanted, but Seven had been right. He would've stood out if he hadn't drunk.
Jax had seen everything there and had mentally made notes of who in Mayhem's leadership favored which other players. They'd reached the point in the night where the party was just a party. "You ready?"
"Finally." Seven had been snuggled into his side, murmuring intel into his ear under the guise of sweet nothings and dirty talk.
Her fingers had worked up and down his sternum, and it had taken more training than he would admit aloud to stay until he was satisfied with his understanding of who and how each player in the room worked.
Seven worked the suite, saying goodbyes, and Jax lifted his chin to Hawke, saying nothing. Tex followed behind Seven and met Jax on the other side of a pool table where the Niners had gathered. "You're good, sweetheart?"
"If I'm with him"—she wrapped a finger around the belt loop of his jeans—"very."
His weathered eyes narrowed, and Jax tried to remember that Tex had a distant, albeit sacred, connection to Titan. Tex had raised Jax's teammate's sister when all had thought she was lost to a horrible world. Adelia's father had saved her, and her brother, Javier, would forever be in Tex's debt. "Adelia and Seven are good friends, aren't they?"
Seven straightened, and her fingers squeezed his side.
Tex's eyes crinkled at the corners. "They are."
"Thank you. For what you did for Javier." Jax tipped his head then took Seven's tense hand and walked her out the door.
The moment they stepped into the hall, the bright lights and clean, cool air ran over them. They were a world away from another life, and all that separated them were a few inches of wood and metal.