Page 29 of Coming In Hot
But instead of pushing me away, he stands there, stiff and tense. He breathes in, like he’s catching the scent of my body wash, and I can’t help but notice how the current between us shifts. My heart kicks into overdrive, like I’m back on the treadmill running those three miles in record time. Hell, it’s beating so loud I’m sure he can hear it. My eyes lock onto his throat as it moves with each breath. He swallows hard.
I’ve got him right where I want him.
Except… instead of shaking his confidence, I realize I’ve done the exact opposite. I’ve shaken my own.
“So that’s still there,” I murmur, standing so close I can feel his breath on my skin.
Jax doesn’t deny it. Wouldn’t be foolish enough to try. The chemistry sparking between us, filling the air with static electricity, is the same that’s existed between us for years. The same pull that brought us together in Iraq and put us on shaky ground long before Jordan became a problem. This is where it all started—the forbidden attraction between a corporal and his master sergeant.
In his dark eyes, I see something flash—vulnerability, raw and quick—and it hits me hard. Beneath the bluster, beneath the snark, Jax is just a man. A man with a wounded soul. A man who once placed his trust in me.
“One of these days, you’re going to be the death of me,” he breathes, his lips almost brushing mine.
I can feel the tension between us thickening, much like my cock beneath this towel. “You know what they say,” I murmur, my voice just above a whisper, “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”
His expression tightens, and he leans in just enough that our lips are a breath apart. “What doesn’t kill me should run,” he says, voice low and dark. “Because now I’m fucking pissed.”
Despite the charged static of the moment, I can’t help but chuckle softly. His ire might be aimed at me, but I’ve always admired that sharp tongue of his.
“Would you chase me?” I tease, leaning in just a little closer, knowing exactly what I’m doing.
“All the way to hell and back,” he growls, the vow heavy with intent.
It’s a dangerous game we’re playing—one that’s been simmering beneath the surface for far too long. And I wonder if we’ll ever stop dancing around this fire… or if it’ll burn us both alive.
I let him go reluctantly, stepping back just enough to create a sliver of space between us. The air crackles with tension, a silence that feels heavier than anything we’ve said or done. My heart is pounding in my chest.
Jax doesn’t move at first, and I’m not sure if he’s as torn as I am, or if he’s just waiting for me to make the first move. My fingers twitch, wanting to reach for him again, to close the gap. But I don’t. Instead, I stay rooted, watching him, wondering if he feels it too—the pull that’s always been there but never fully acknowledged.
He doesn’t speak, but I catch a flicker in his eyes, a flash of something—desire, anger, maybe both. Something untamed and raw. He takes a deep breath, exhaling slowly as if to steady himself, before grabbing his bag and pulling on his shirt with more force than necessary.
It’s almost like he’s trying to shake off what just happened. Maybe I am, too.
I take a moment to admire his body. His muscles are more defined now, sharper than they were when we served together. Time has treated him well.
The Jaxon James I used to know was practically a boy compared to the man I see standing before me now.
But it’s the ink that pulls me in the most. Each tattoo tells a story. Some I know, some I’ll never know. Maybe they’re his way of marking the past, or maybe he just likes the way they look. Either way, they’re a part of him, just like everything else—the strength, the pride, and even the damn attitude.
I catch myself staring a second too long, and I quickly snap my focus away. Even though I want to look, I know it’s better if I don’t.
But as I turn to grab my duffel, I can’t help but feel like we’re both holding something back that’s begging to be let out. For now, though, I leave the locker room with the same question rattling around in my head:What happens next?
CHAPTER11
JAX
The sun is barely kissingthe peaks as I twist the throttle, pulling away from the edge of the world below. The wind whips my face, and I can feel the cool bite of the morning air, crisp and fresh, just how I like it. The hum of the engine beneath me is a steady rhythm, matching the beat of my heart as I lean into the curves of these mountain roads. Each bend feels like an invitation to escape, to shed everything slowing me down.
Around me, the mountains stretch on, timeless and rugged. The trees are thick with green, the pines and oaks rising to meet the sky. I breathe it all in—the pine-scented air, the earth beneath my tires, the sounds of my bike cutting through the silence of the wild. The road twists and turns, narrow and winding, each corner offering a new view of the landscape below.
The ride is almost meditative, my mind settling into the rhythm of the road. What was that shit with Pharo yesterday? Just when I think I’ve dealt with one problem, another surfaces.
The memory comes back to me."So, that’s still there."The way he said it, like it was a question, but not. More like a statement wrapped in disbelief. As if he couldn't quite grasp how something so broken could still remain, still hold its place in the world.
Yeah, motherfucker, it’s still there. It’s been there all along, waiting for me to remember, to face it. Another part of the wreckage he left behind, another reason to hate him. How could I have been attracted to him? How could I have fallen for someone who tore my life apart so easily? Someone who ripped away the one thing I needed to survive the darkest, most suffocating time of my life—when I was broken, lost, and desperate for any kind of anchor. And he took it. He took Jordan from me, without hesitation, without remorse.
Until now. All these years, my anger has festered like a cancer. Eroding my compassion, my humanity.
