Page 92 of Jax

“How the fuck can I go to sleep when I know you’re crying?” Jax growled, prowling around to my side of the bed. The energy he had burst from the bed with seemed to have dwindled into a soft simmer as he dropped to one knee next to me. His hands grasped my thighs and pulled my ass to face him. My knees pressed against his naked chest, the warmth of his skin making me realize how cold my own skin had become.

He shoved his hair out of his face with a rough hand, and half of it fell back forward. He didn’t seem to give a fuck. His deep brown eyes were alluring in the shadows of the room. The faint glow of moonlight slipping through the thin curtains glinted over their smooth surface with a transparency I felt was looking deep into my soul.

“Talk to me,” Jax pleaded, his hands squeezing around my knees.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I huffed, not able to look at his face. I reached up to rub the damp patches on my cheeks. If only I could fool myself and him that they didn’t exist.

“Is this about the fact I won’t tie you up?”

“What?” I flinched. He’d hit the nail on the head.

“I know how big the old ladies’ mouths are. And their noses even more so. I’d be the biggest dumbass to think that they hadn’t tried to gossip about my sex life with you,” Jax explained on a heavy sigh. He didn’t look pissed, but the deep frown over his brows told me he was more frustrated than anything resembling anger or upset. “I never hid it from them, and I didn’t intend to hide it from you.”

“Then why….” I couldn’t even bring myself to ask the question. I felt pathetic asking. It was needy, and it was so unlike me that I wanted to pull my legs back from him and escape. At the slightest tug of my limbs, his grip tightened underneath my knees, cupping them toward him.

“Why haven’t I tried to tie you up?”

I nodded.

Jax sighed.

I knew it. It was pathetic. He thought I was being needy and knowing all the loose women Jax had slept with, I knew he didn’t like that in a woman. But what reference did I have for girls like me? He never would have turned his eyes to a girl like me had we not had the past that we did.

“I knew it,” I sobbed, the sound uncontrollable. “You don’t want to do that with me.”

“Ronnie,” Jax growled, rising to his feet.

I took the opportunity to pull my legs back, skirting as far back on the bed as I could. His eyes narrowed at the movement, but I didn’t care. The tears were falling again, and I was desperate to hide them, my arms rubbing at my face so hard I thought I would tear off my skin before the ugly display went away.

“I get that I’m boyish. I’m not experienced or sexy or have the big boobs that you like. I’m not blonde or have soft skin, or long nails.” I sobbed.

“Ron—”

“I just didn’t think that I was such a big turn off for you until now.” I grabbed a fistful of the sheets and brought them up to my face, wiping snot and whatever disgusting liquid was streaming from my face into it.

“Ronnie, just list—”

“I don’t even know why I thought this would work. We’re not compatible. You probably don’t even really like m—”

I screamed.

My legs were torn out from underneath me, jerked so hard and fast down the bed that I couldn’t compute how I made it from the top of the bed to half hanging off the side. I gasped for the breath I lost as my head had hit the mattress, but I lost it as I saw the expression painted on Jax’s face.

His arms were braced around my knees, the culprit of my recent rollercoaster. The ink on his skin blended into the darkness around him like a vibrating, black mass hanging above me. Neither the vice-grip he had on my body nor the way his muscles were rippling with quaking strength were the reason I froze.

His expression was one I had rarely seen on him. It was oppressing. Unfriendly. Unfamiliar. It was… scary.

“J-Jax…,” I whispered, not wanting to move in the fear I could cause a reaction in him.

“Never,” Jax growled, the voice deep and rumbling and making me feel as small as a mouse. “Never assume what I’m thinking. Because you don’t know. Nobody knows what I’m thinking except me, okay?”

“Jax, I—”

“No, Ronnie.” Jax cut me off. “You’re not my parents. You’re not my friends. And you’re certainly not me.”

I felt my bottom lip quiver as the shock that had dried my eyes welled up again. “But—”

“So,” His thumb pressed against my lip, soft, gentle, and smooth across the quivering mess, “don’t assume how I feel about you.”

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