CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

 

The girl who had been refilling Jax's beers reappeared, but this time she had liquor bottles in hand and was flirting. She held up a bottle of vodka and a darker one of bourbon. "White or red?"

"Cute." Seven laughed warily, but liquor wasn't in her plans tonight. "I'm good. Jax?"

"He's thirsty. I know these things." The liquor girl crawled onto the couch next to them, pitching both bottles forward as though she were ready to pour them into his mouth. "Open up, good lookin'."

His body shook with the silent rumble of his laughter, and Seven noticed that he didn't leer and look like so many did when leather-clad beauties crawled toward them with liquor.

"Come on, sweet cakes."

Seven chuckled to herself, not the only one who noticed how he didn't flirt with her.

"What's tall, dark, and handsome's name?"

"Jax." His lack of flirting served only to make her inch forward. "What's yours?"

"What do you want it to be?"

He shook his head. "What the fuck are parents thinking these days? I bet you never find a key chain with your name on it."

Seven choked on a laugh.

"Is he serious?" Her forehead wrinkled in pissed-off confusion. "It's Grace. Or Gracie. Or whatever you want to call me."

His eyebrows arched. "Like 'What Do You Want It To Be'?"

"Ignore him," Seven recommended.

Grace kneeled back on her heels and rested both bottles on her thighs, pouting. "They say I don't do my job unless I keep the guests happy."

"Trust me. I'm happy." Jax pointed to Seven's hair. "Who can't be happy around this bubble of sunshine? Poof of cotton candy?"

Seven exchanged glances with Grace. "I think I'm his first pink-haired girl."

Jax snorted.

Grace giggled. "I can't tell if he's funny or grumpy."

"Welcome to the club."

"You two think you're cute, don't you?"

"No, no, not with that sourpuss face." Grace inched closer to them on the couch.

"I do," Seven volunteered. "All kinds of cute."

Jax squeezed Seven's side. "You're something."

Ticklish, she moved from his hands but found herself close to his ear. "Come on now, sourpuss. You're here to fit in, aren't you?" Her lips lingered, and she liked the way he smelled clean and masculine in a room packed with liquor and smoke. Seven curled against his hard torso as his hand possessively settled on her naked back.

"Ready now?" Grace tried again. "Seven, tell him my job's to make him happy and drunk."

Seven twisted and pressed her fingers to his chin. "Grace's job is to make you happy—"

"Already told you. You have that covered."

Suddenly scared the night would end and not wanting to feel as strongly as she did for the man who told her he couldn't commit, Seven turned to Grace. "I'll go first. That's the best I can do."

Jax grumbled as Seven tilted her head. Bourbon hit her tongue, overflowing into her mouth, and slipped down her throat. The burn was a wildfire, so sweet and searing that Seven's eyes shut. It overtook her senses and woke her nerves, spiraling to the tips of her fingers and the depth of her pussy.

Drips of liquor slipped to her chin and neck as she closed her mouth and swallowed, and the liquor girl leaned close and licked the bourbon trail from her skin.

Jax tightened his hold, and Seven opened her eyes, locking her bourbon-burned gaze on the handsome man she wanted to be with anywhere. A Mayhem party. Colombia. Iowa. Wherever. The afterburn of a shot always had clarity, and this one told her she was where she needed to be.

Grace angled the bottle. "Your turn, muscles."

He simply opened his mouth, tilting his head back a few degrees, and she poured the liquor down his throat. But Jax didn't close his eyes. He kept his gaze on Seven until he nodded and Grace ended the flow. Then he shut his lips and swallowed.

"No one says no to bourbon." Grace faded away, and Seven didn't care if she stayed or not.

Kissing the corner of Jax's mouth, she followed the trail of his bottom lip, licking along the line, brushing her mouth against his chin and back to the fullness of his kiss. She wrapped an arm around his neck, angling to kiss him better. Her tongue probed against his, hot and wet. He tasted of bourbon and a night that was just getting started—

The crackling sound of a sparkler in the hotel room pulled them apart, and Jax protectively pulled her to his side. Mood effectively killed, though the liquor hadn't gone away because of morons and their pyrotechnics.

She pulled back. "How much longer do we stay?"

Jax eyed the room. "Until we see everything worth seeing."

Seven sighed. That could go on all night, no telling. But, bonus, Grace had left the bourbon bottle on the couch. "Good to know I have my secret weapon."

"What's that, princess?"

She pointed him toward the bottle left for them. "The key to switching your frown upside down is liquor with a little burn and kick."

"Not true. But since it's here…" Jax picked up the bottle, tilted Seven's head back with the tip of his fingers, and poured alcohol into her mouth. Then he did the same for himself. The bourbon coursed down her throat as she savored the buzz. Seven didn't drink often and rarely was it liquor, but perhaps it was time for the "when in Vegas" attitude. She couldn't be safer than surrounded by Mayhem and Titan. No kids. No responsibility.

She opened her eyes, and Jax's eyes were tight at the corners. "What?"

He put the bottle down and roughly dragged a needy hand up until he squeezed the nape of her neck then threaded his fingers roughly into her hair. Jax angled her mouth against his. He was hungry and heavenly, seductive and sensitive, finally leaving her breathless and uncaring who saw how this man could make her pant.

"I needed to check something." His dark eyes were nearly black, and the roughness in his voice nearly scorched her leather skirt away.

"What are you talking about, Jax?"

"It's not the liquor."

Her heart started to race, desperately trying to keep pace with the lust that was steamrolling through her veins. "I'm sorry?"

"I tried the liquor. Then I tried you."

"Jax…" Her whisper sounded whiskey-scratched, and she couldn't breathe for wanting to feel the high of him and her mixed together—words, touches, kisses. Everything.

"You make me feel right."

Seven hooked her other wrist behind his neck, locking her fingers together, and inched forward until she pressed her forehead to his. The longest storm of seconds passed. They didn't blink. The alcohol in her blood could've made her dizzy, but it only made Mayhem and friends fade away. Her pink hair enclosed them in a haven. "Don't look now." She licked her lips. "But…"

"But?"

"You are so romantic."