Page 21 of Jax
She blinked, startled, but not by the words. By the way her body reacted to them.
I saw the shift as it happened: the flutter at her throat, pupils flaring just slightly, lips parting like her lungs forgot how to function. That was the moment. The tell. The change.
I stepped forward slowly and deliberately, giving her space to move if she wanted to.
She didn’t.
My voice dropped to a hush, dark velvet with a warning stitched beneath it. “You’re quick. Smarter than I expected. But you’re not invisible. Not here. Not with me.”
Her chin lifted in defiance, but her mouth trembled before she clamped it shut.
“You gonna hit me now?” she spat. “Drag me back? Lock me in my room?”
I gave a low chuckle, deep in my chest. “If I’d wanted to drag you, you wouldn’t be standing.”
“Try me,” she said, voice tight with defiance, the kind powered by adrenaline. But her body betrayed her. A tremble in her fingers. A lean in, not back. Her fight was already bleeding into something hotter. Something dangerous.
I stepped in closer, close enough that she had to tip her chin to meet my eyes. “I could have. Chose not to.” Not a threat. Just a reminder.
Her breath hitched, barely. But it was enough. Enough to confirm what we both already knew. This tension wasn’t just danger, or chemistry. It was alive. Responsive. Unnamed, but undeniable.
I let that tension stretch a second too long, then stepped back, giving her just enough room to believe the space was hers to claim. I turned, hands in my pockets, like we hadn’t just cracked something open that wouldn’t close.
“Come on, Stella. Let’s get you tucked in before you stealmyfucking sheets.”
She muttered something feral behind me, but followed. Her steps were still louder than they needed to be, full of defiance. Not surrender. Not obedience. Just fire. I didn’t look back. I could feel her—furious, curious, still trying to understand why being ignored felt worse than being pinned. Whatever this was, it wasn’t done. It was coiled. Waiting. And I was already counting the seconds until it snapped.
I reached the bottom step and paused. Not for myself. For her. She needed the illusion of choice, and I let her have it, let her believe this wasn’t already a game she’d started and I was finishing.
Her boots crunched on gravel behind me. I didn’t turn. Just waited. One beat. Then another.
And then she stormed past, all fury and wounded pride, the kind of defiance that made her the most dangerous person in the room, even if she hadn’t figured that out yet.
I caught her elbow before she hit the first stair. Not rough. Not sharp. Just enough to stop her.
She stilled, spine locking tight. Her face turned toward mine, eyes burning.
“Let go,” she said, voice thin with tension.
I didn’t.
I stepped closer, not forcefully, but deliberately, enough to let her feel me. To feel the shift in the air. My hand skimmed from her elbow to her wrist, a slow, precise slide that made her breath hitch even as she glared up at me like she wanted to flay the smirk off my face.
“You’re fast,” I said. “I’ll give you that. More resourceful than most, too.”
Her jaw clenched. “If you’re about to compliment me into compliance, you’re going to be disappointed.”
I laughed, low and soft, the sound vibrating between us. “Honey, if I thought praise would work on you, I’d try it. But we both know you’re wired for consequences.”
That earned me a flare of something. Not anger. Not quite. Something more primal. Her pupils blew wide for a half-second, like her body betrayed her faster than her brain could catch up.
Then she shook her head and scowled. “You’re insufferable.”
“And yet... you followed me.”
“I was caught.”
“You still had a choice.” She paused, just for a breath, but it was enough. I saw it land. Good. Let it shake her. I was already a bit rattled myself, if I was being honest. Getting turned on bychasing a near-stranger through the woods had not been on my bingo card for this evening.
