Perfect Redemption

Twenty Nine: In Which She May Not Make It Out Alive

    "How dare you." He gasps, pretending to be offended, even though I know he's unfazed by my words.

    "But it's true though." I shrug. "We haven't gone out of bed for three whole days because you refused to let me go until we broke the bed."

    "If I may recall, that wasn't me being lazy." A smug smile forms on his face and I roll my eyes. "It was quite the opposite, really."

    Oh Jesus.

    "I wish I didn't bring you tonight," I moan.

    "Hey." That earns a frown from him. "We're a package deal, darling. You go, I'll go. We're a—"

    "—team. I know." I finish off the sentence for him. "But you don't have to do this if you don't want to, Jackson. You can always turn back," I say quietly.

    "I told you before and I'm going to say it again: I'm not leaving you," Jax tells me with absolute certainty. "We do this together or we don't do it at all. I got your back, Sullivan."

    That makes me sigh. "As much as that's really romantic of you, I wish you didn't." I tell him. "I hate dragging you into all of...this." I gesture with my hands. "It's not the kind of life you would want, Jackson. This is some hardcore stuff."

        "No, this is amateur stuff," he corrects me, shrugging. "Do you even know what is hardcore shit? Hardcore shit is when you're in a ring with two other dudes who weigh twice is much as you and you are being crushed under their bodies and you have to crawl your way out of there with eight broken ribs, a fractured spine, two dislocated shoulders, a broken wrist and only eight fingers attached to your hand."

    I stop at my tracks. "Oh my god. You actually did that?"

    "No, but the look on your face when I told you that was priceless."

    I smack his arm and glare at him. "You little shit."

    I can't believe I have feelings for this son of a bitch.

    "What you see is what you get, darling. Well..." Jax looks down at his crotch and shrug, "maybe you can't see everything right now. I'll show you the best part of me when we get back home," He winks at me.

     I snort, an easy smile tugging on my lips.

    "Tell me: why do you always have to bring sex into everything, Jackson?"

    It takes him a while to think about the answer. And when he finally does, he opens his mouth to speak. "Because it makes me sound ridiculous," he admits.

    "And that is a good thing?" I say, utterly baffled.

    "Sure it is," he nods, a slow grin forming on his face, "because it's one of the very few ways I can get you to smile at me."

    Goddammit. I hate it when he says those kinds of things. It causes this chain reaction in my body and I'm consumed with this emotion—this emotion that is stronger than interest, stronger than just having feelings for someone.

    Love.

    Nope. Nope. No way am I going to be thinking about this right now. Retreat! Retreat now while you can!

    "We should keep moving," I blurt out instead. "I mean—I don't want to waste time."

    Jax seems taken aback by the sudden change of subject. He quickly readjusts to it, a mask blending over his face, but not before I see a look of hurt cross it. "Yeah. Of course."