Jax (Titan #9)(59)

With that kind of reaction, it was something. "Oh yeah?"

"A bag full of nothing." Seven grabbed his hand, tugging him toward the bed. "Come on."

"Suspicious, princess." They walked by her suitcases that weren't unpacked. "Not big into happy birthdays? I won't sing."

"It's not that. I promise." Seven stared at the wall over his shoulder, then the window before her eyes darted to the floor again. He'd never seen her avoid eye contact, and she was terrible at it.

Which sucked because with diversion of the eyes came avoidance of the truth, and uncertainty crept into his chest. The idea that she didn't want to share information worthy of a gift was her prerogative. But it bugged the shit out of him.

And who had given it to her?

Jax worked his jaw to the side, doing his best impression of chilled out and horny. Good for her. They had no set rules. This was a hookup. He was the one explaining to her they had nothing, but hell if right now didn't feel like a hookup.

Straight at a spike, she stared soberly. "What?"

"Nothing."

"Something," Seven shot back. "You're all… stiff. Not in a good way."

"If someone's sending you presents in Vegas"—he lifted a shoulder—"lucky them."

"Oh!" Seven's mouth rounded. "No. Not like that." She slapped her hands over her lips then shook them away. "I'd never sleep around. I don't have time. I can't even imagine. It's a—how do I explain? I must be connected to someone. Like, get them. They get me. Flings don't work." She rambled on, talking fast. "Not judging people who do." She gestured to him. "I just can't. Sex should have purpose—" She cringed. "Not that it should for you. I—what I'm saying is I'm not romantically, er, um, sexually involved with anyone else." She took a breath, slowing herself down. "I never asked that of you, so my whole verbal explosion there, feel free to ignore except for the relevant parts."

His chest tightened. Goddamn, he was crazy about her. Every word. Every move. Everything. "It's fine."

"It's not."

He nodded. "It is. It's you. I dig you."

"Really?" She crooked her pierced eyebrow at him. "I don't always hold my opinions back."

"One of my favorite things about you."

"No way. I can give you a better list. Scones, coffee, killer sex, we laugh…"

"You keep it real."

"That's not fair," she joked.

"What?" he asked.

"Your covert, SEAL, psych-ops tricks to find out about the gift bag."

"Princess, I'm fucking naked. 'Least you have on your boots," he pointed out. "There are things I'd rather do than talk about your trash."

Seven covered her mouth again as she laughed then relented. "It's from Victoria."

Jax rolled his eyes, grabbed Seven's hand, and took the final steps to the bedroom area. "All that for your best friend's gift." He saw a card on top of the dresser, next to the television. The Vegas strip landscape was pictured as the background to a big FIRST TIMERS emblem. He turned to her. "No shit?"

"Guess so. Not my normal jaunt."

Jax swiped the card up as Seven's hand shot out. He held it just out of reach. "I can't read it?"

"This night is so weird." She threw herself back on the bed. "Before I say anything else, I'll just tell you my best friend is a connoisseur of specialty items."

Chuckling, he had no idea what she was talking about. "I'll take that as an all clear to open the card."

"Why not…"



It's Vegas! Go wild (as you can for you…). What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas (but you better dish the deets).

I thought this might be interesting on the off chance that you had another slumber party. Try it, maybe you'll relax. Have fun and trust me. Him, too.

Love you!

xo, Victoria



A card about him for a bag that ended in the trash? "What'd she get you?"

Seven threw her arms over her face, groaning. "I can't decide if this conversation is going to cause my early death."

What the hell was she talking about? Jax walked back to the trash can and extracted the gift bag. It was heavier than expected. He tossed aside the tissue paper and curled strings. "She put a lot of effort into the wrapping."

"I bet," Seven called.

Jax pulled out a small bottle of cheap champagne adorned with "Vegas First Timer" on the label and wrapper. "Thoughtful…"

"Uh-huh." She still sounded unamused.

He set the bottle aside and dumped the remaining contents onto the desk. Out rolled a pink bottle of lube, Vegas-themed condoms, a mini bottle of champagne, and tied lengths of bondage rope.





CHAPTER THIRTY


Seven wasn't sure why Jax wasn't making a sound. When she'd gotten to the bottom of the bag, a flood of holy shits and nuh-uhs flew from her tongue. There were no gasps or curses to be heard now, and she peeled her arms from her face, peering up as Jax picked up the bag's contents and pivoted.

"I've got questions." He raised the hand holding the lube and rope.