Page 25 of Roots of the Wicked

“You were going to be mine, there is no doubt about that, but I do apologize for allowing myself to lose control and indulge in what should have been acquired in a more dignified manner.”

A lazy smile traced her lips before she nodded in my direction and lifted her wine glass in silent acceptance of my words. There was a trace of challenge gleaming in her eyes, hinting that she wasn’t going to make things easy for me.

“As much as I would love to overindulge in the sexual cravings you stir up in me, I want more from you, Jax. I would like to know more about you. I want us to laugh and share our shortfalls and achievements with each other. I’d prefer that we be the kind of couple that communicates rather than let sex solve our problems.”

Did I really just let that slip out of my mouth? My forehead crinkled. What am I saying?

My conscience answered. You’re saying what you’ve been thinking for the past few days.

Based on her reluctant stare, I believed I was admitting too much, too soon, but she hadn’t shut me down yet.

“First, I can respect you wanting more from me, but I don’t know when I’ll be ready for any kind of relationship. Second, I hardly know you outside of what I read on your phone, or what blogs or headlines tell me. Third, I’m not even sure I want to share my personal business with you.”

She spoke with a made up mind, but I chose to ignore it because I could tell a strong personality like hers would need a lot of persuading. Besides, she seemed to be forgetting that she was the one that had invited me to dinner. Despite my logical mind telling me she may have wanted pay back from the bathroom scene, this was still a date.

With her arms folded across her chest, I couldn’t tell what I was reading in her expression—was it amusement or irritation?

The more she tried to resist me, the more I wanted her. Plus, I was starting to enjoy the push and pull happening between us. It excited me, adding a unique flavor to our relationship that I wasn’t sure I could get with anyone else.

Around Jax, I wasn’t a billionaire businessman, I was a normal guy who could speak freely. I didn’t have to be formal or speak in my acting voice. I was simply a man interested in a woman playing hard to get. A woman who didn’t cower under the weight of my power, and I respected her more for it.

“Tell me what makes you normal, Chase. I want the real you, not what you show people. What brings you out of the shadow of billionaire businessman into the light of who you truly are?”

She was at war with herself, resisting me one moment and showing interest the next. However, I was pleased by her show of interest.

“Most people believe I live the perfect life because I have garnered some fame, or because my family has always had money.” Judging by her furrowed forehead, this was her assessment of me as well.

“Jax, I’m a prop to some and an ornament to others. A living display. This cold world no longer sees me as a person and could care less about my feelings, how I’m doing, and if I need help. No one cares who I truly am. If I were shot down in the streets right now, I believe a selfie next to my dying body would be taken before I received help.”

I imagined my face reflected how certain aspects of my life truly made me feel. A streak of sorrow flashed in Jax’s probing gaze before she reached across the table and brushed the lightest strokes of her fingers across the back of my hand. She covered my hand with hers for just a few seconds before she took it away.

She was clueless as to the amount of power she unleashed in that single action, a caring touch that lifted the hairs on my arm. It also revealed a truth about her that I’m sure she wanted to keep hidden. She had just shown me that she cared.

“Having money doesn’t equate to happiness, especially when you are raised by a prolific control freak like my father. There wasn’t a task or goal set on my behalf he didn’t suggest. If I dated a girl who wasn’t handpicked by him, he’d do everything in his power to drive her from my life. My dream, when I was younger, was to become a professional baseball player. My backup plan was to major in engineering, but my father stubbornly suggested business.”

A curious smile appeared as she leaned towards me. Her subtle gestures of interest pleased me, and induced a spark of happiness that made it easy to share parts of my life with her.

“I’m not saying my life was miserable, but I spent the bulk of it living my father’s dream for who he wanted me to become. He was always testing me and my brother. Many of his lessons were carried out by unconventional means.”

Her brows pinched tight at the statement, her eye zeroed in on mine.

“He has not hesitated to sleep with some of the women we’ve dated, just to prove that he could. He wanted us as physically strong as we were mentally. To build up those strengths, he enlisted us in several boot-camps that operated with their own set of rules. The kind that flew under the radar, and were allowed to beat, haze, and severely punish their recruits. From one, I was sent home with a concussion, and Blake a broken arm.”

Her face bunched in concern. “Damn Chase. I’d have never guessed you would have been put through that kind of hell. Does your father’s behavior, or his tough lessons affect the way you treat women? Do they affect the way that you live? It’s a horrible way to teach a young man a lesson.”

I had never discussed these parts of my life with anyone but found myself eager to share them with Jax. She had been the only one that cared enough to ask and sit and listen to what I had gone through.

“Not even my mother knew what those boot camps were. She naturally assumed we were being shipped off to one of the camps she and my father had picked from a brochure. My father’s lessons eventually became the examples of what not to do. To answer your question Jax; I don’t have all the answers, and there is still a lot I have to figure out for myself, but I do my best to do the right things by women. I do my best to live a productive life.”

Her eyes were glued on me, soaking in my words, and I believe better understanding another piece of me. I was eager to know more about her, so I changed the subject.

“So, tell me about the piercing. I like it. I like it a lot, but what made you get it down there?”

My eyes fell to the area blocked by the table. A sly smile crept across her face as she contemplated telling me.

“I got it so that I could learn to control my orgasms. The barbell pings my clit, hitting enough nerve endings to get my attention. For the first month, I had uncontrolled orgasms, until I learned to force myself to think deeper than the immediate pleasure and seek a deeper more satisfying one.”

She paused at the snicker of satisfaction I was sure was reflected in my eyes, “Controlling my desire is what helps me enjoy sex even when my sexual partner is garbage.”

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