Page 46 of Coming In Hot
It’s a little unfair how effortlessly he toes the line between playful and provocative. Every move, every look, seems designed to mess with my head. Just the other day, he insisted I had no chance of sleeping with him, yet here is, teasing me about his dick.
But I keep my cool. I have to. Jax is the kind of guy who enjoys watching people squirm, and I’m not about to give him the satisfaction of knowing how much he’s affecting me.
How much Iwanthim.
Hell, he knows. He just doesn’t want to face it, because he’d have to admit that he wants me too. I know he does. I can see it in the way his eyes linger, the teasing grin that never quite reaches his eyes. It’s like a game to him—testing the boundaries, seeing how far he can push before I snap.
And maybe, just maybe, a part of me wants to snap. Wants to see how far he’ll push before he does something about it. But then, there’s the voice in my head—cold, logical, and clear—that reminds me how messy this could get.
I can’t afford to mess this up. Not with him.
“Enjoying the view?” Jax’s voice pulls me from my thoughts, laced with that familiar cocky edge.
I force a smirk, pushing away the thoughts of him and how much Ireallywant to throw caution to the wind. There isn’t much I can say with West listening. Jax knows it, too. His grin widens, the challenge in his eyes making my pulse race.
The silence between us stretches, thick with unspoken tension. His eyes hold mine a moment longer than necessary, and for a heartbeat, I forget how to breathe. I could almost swear he’s thinking the same thing. The sameneedis pulling us together.
But then he laughs—softly, as though he’s amused by something only he understands—and it breaks the moment.
I should be relieved, but part of me is disappointed.
Rhett comes up behind Jax and snags his towel. He looks me over, and I swear the kid is checking me out. I almost laugh when he asks, “What happened?” Rhett points to my side, to where I was stabbed. Where Jax stitched me up.
“I uh,” I start, but Jax intervenes.
“That’s what happens when you run your mouth one too many times. Bitches get Stitches,” he scoffs, planting his fist in my thigh.
The guys laugh it off, used to our bickering by now. If they knew our relationship had shifted recently, their world might threaten to stop spinning on its axis. They’d never see it coming.
I grit my teeth, trying to hold back the grin that threatens to break free. He knows how to push my buttons, how to provoke me, and even now, his touch sends a jolt of heat straight through me. That damn fist on my thigh—it's harmless, it's playful, and yet... It's not. Not anymore.
“Keep it up,” I warn, voice steady, but I know the undertone is there—thick, unspoken. “You might find yourself with more than a bruise to nurse.”
Jax takes a seat on the end of my lounger, looking at me with that infuriating, knowing smile. The kind that makes me want to throw him in the pool just to wipe it off his face.
“Promises, promises,” he says, dragging his eyes over me in that way that hasalwaysgotten under my skin.
I shift uncomfortably, trying to ignore the way my pulse quickens. This whole dynamic is changing, and I’m ready as hell. But Jax? He seems like he’s struggling with the idea, like he’s fighting with himself.
Should I just give in to what I want and let Pharo fuck me? Or should I keep playing with him, drawing out the inevitable and pretending like I still hold a grudge against him?
The guys are still laughing, oblivious to what’s building in the silence between us. If they could see what I’m seeing now—the tension that’s laced in every word, every glance—they’d stop laughing, too. But for now, I’m keeping it buried, right where it’s been since the first time we locked eyes.
This isn’t a game anymore. Not for me. And if it is, it’s a game I plan to win.
Just when I thought the party was starting to wind down, Mandy pulls up, and he’s not driving his old beater of a truck. All heads turn in his direction as he struggles to vacate his large body from the tiny-ass car.
West lowers his sunglasses to get a better look and then pops off his lounger, hurrying through the gate to the lot.
“What’s this?” he asks, circling the car. “A rental? Couldn’t they have given you something bigger?”
“This,” Mandy gushes with pride, running his hand over the glossy roof, which comes to about his shoulder, “is my new ride. Sweet, ain’t he? Meet Coop.”
Jeez, how original. He named his Mini Cooper, Coop. Though no one can see my eye roll because of my aviators.
“Coop?” West repeats. “Are you pranking me?”
“No, why?” Mandy’s brows furrow. “Check out the way that blue metallic paint shines in the sun. He’s smokin’ hot.”
