Page 44 of Coming In Hot
Pharo blinks, processing it all. “Damn. You’re not just a pretty face, are you?”
I let out a humorless laugh, shrugging it off. “I guess not.” Wait, did he just say he likes my face? “Don’t call me pretty. I’m fucking rugged.”
Pharo’s grin widens, clearly savoring the jab. “Rugged, huh? Sure, if you say so.”
Then he leans forward, his voice dropping to a low murmur. “When are you gonna stop pricking me with your porcupine quills and let me fuck you, Jax?”
Shit. My pulse jumps, but I keep my face cool. “Not today, Pharo.” I pop a French fry in my mouth, swallowing it down with a little too much force. “And not tomorrow, either.”
He chuckles, the sound low and a little dangerous. “You’re not gonna make this easy for me, are you?”
I meet his gaze, trying to stay steady. “Nope. Where’s the fun in that?”
“You know what I think?” Pharo says, leaning back with a smirk. “I think you love to hate me.” I’m starting to think he’s right, but I keep my face tight, hiding any reaction. “It certainly makes it hotter when you’re in my arms, doesn’t it?” he adds, his voice a low tease. “I wonder how much hotter it’ll be when we fuck. All that hate, heating up the sheets, making you sweat.”
The bastard licks his lips slowly, like he just tasted the most delicious dessert.
My traitorous cock twitches in my jeans. Great! Now I'll be imagining that all night. I guess I have to thank him, though. It’s an improvement from the dark shit I usually dream of.
I shake my head, trying to clear the thought, but I can't quite shake the image of Pharo's lips, the way he looks at me. It's distracting as hell, but somehow... I don’t hate it.
CHAPTER16
PHARO
What in the fucking fuck?
My first day of relaxation with nothing to do in God only knows how long, and my phone is dinging like crazy, pulling me from the book in my lap. It has to be the group chat. Only the Bitches would have so much to say about absolutely nothing at eleven in the morning.
I groan and roll my eyes, knowing it’s only a matter of time before they drag me into whatever dumb thing they’re planning. I pick up the phone, half-expecting a flurry of memes and nonsensical comments.
Jax: Alright, boys. Mission "Slippery When Wet" is a go. The gates are down, and we’re inside. No turning back now.
Rhett: How’d you get past the gates?
Jax: R U serious? The gates are like a suggestion to keep out, not a hard rule.
West: My wingman and I are infiltrating the drop zone now.
I have no idea what’s going on, but I’m positive I want no part in it. The messages go on and on, and the only reason I pay them any attention at all is because Jax is participating, which is rare for him. Usually, he’d rather be sitting in front of his tech fortress, wasting away his afternoon. I can’t deny that I’m more than a little curious about what he’s up to. It must be good to drag him away from his desk.
I wonder what Jax looks like, actuallyrelaxingfor once. If he’s not buried in code or glued to his screen, what the hell does he do? Does he know how to unwind? Part of me wishes I was taking part in their shenanigans, just to see him at ease, laughing and fucking around with the guys.
You just want to see him, my subconscious goads.
Just as I’m about to write them off and return to my book, a message catches my attention. A message addressed to me. From Jax. It’s not part of the group chat. This one was sent to me directly.
Jax: Don’t know what you’re doing. Don’t care. Grab a towel and some beer, (not that nasty imported shit!) and drive around to the back of your neighborhood.
He follows up with another message that makes me crack up.
Jax: I hope you aren’t staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, stroking your ego.
I snort, shaking my head. Jax thinks I’m that conceited? He’s ridiculous.
I grab a towel from the bathroom, toss it over my shoulder, and grab a six-pack from the fridge, shaking my head. That’s Jax for you—always finding ways to get under my skin. But part of me can’t help but wonder if this little back-and-forth is his way of… I don’t know…breaking the ice? Is he trying to hang out, or is he setting me up for an epic prank at my expense?
That seems more likely, considering it’s Jax, but I can’t ignore his request. Mostly out of curiosity, even if it did kill the cat.
