Sylvia Day: Aftershock

My chin lifted. “Why are you always so quick to make yourself sound like a class A prick?”

He shrugged. “Just calling ’em like I see ’em.”

“No, you’re trying to paint a picture of yourself that has nothing to do with reality. You can’t keep telling me that I know you, while insisting that you’re really an asshole.” I dropped my purse back down. “It’s like you’re trying to convince you and me both that you’re something you’re not.”

“More like reminding us both of what I am,” he stopped in front of me, “what I’ve got inside me just waiting to come out.”

“I think your dad reminds you of that.”

“You’re fixated on my father.”

“Just calling ’em like I see ’em,” I shot back.

Jax stared down at me for a long minute, his body tense and the air between us strained. “What you’re not seeing is that he and I have a lot more in common than just our faces.”

“So, let’s talk about it.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“You just want to fight.”

He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, his biceps stretching the sleeve of his T-shirt. He growled. “What I want is to fuck you bowlegged.”

“Jax.” I laughed, I couldn’t help it. His frustration was palpable and his response to it was so typically... male . “You’re lucky I grew up with three brothers, you know. I’m used to chest thumping.”

“And driving me insane.”

“You’re doing that all by yourself, what with your self-confessed multiple personality disorder.” I touched a finger to my jaw. “Wait. I get it. You’re a twin. There’s two of you!”

Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “Jesus.”

“If I sleep with both of you, does that count as cheating?”

His hands dropped and he looked at me. “Are you in love with both of them?”

I reached out and touched his chest. “I’m in love with you.”

With a sigh, Jax hugged me and pressed his lips to my shoulder. “Image is everything in politics. Sometimes, I’m asked to help others with theirs. That’s why I know a few stylists.”

I pushed my hands up beneath his shirt to touch his bare skin. His soft shiver and low moan sent my heartbeat skipping. “Good to know.”

I wanted to know more, but for the first time in our relationship we had time to let things grow and develop. I gave myself the right to enjoy that.

There were a handful of things in life that made me catch my breath in wonder—Jax in a tuxedo topped the list.

I watched him cross the ballroom with a champagne flute in each hand, his stride fiercely elegant and unmistakably sexual. The D.C. hotel was filled with men and women who were political and financial scions wielding tremendous power. Enormous crystal chandeliers cast light that glittered off priceless jewels and glossy, perfectly coiffed locks. Crystal glasses clinked against each other, and the hum of conversation sounded like a swarm of bees.

In the midst of it all, Jackson Rutledge stood out from the crowd.

His hair was nearly as dark as his tuxedo, his skin lightly tanned, his eyes framed by arrogantly slashed brows. The beautifully tailored tux hugged his broad shoulders and emphasized the length of his legs.

Discreetly, I licked my lips. Mine .

Jax would’ve caught my eye no matter what, but it was the look in his eyes that set my heart racing.

“I still love that dress,” he said, handing me a flute and bending to kiss my shoulder.

My lips curved against the mouth of the glass. The muted gold gown had been the first one I’d tried on and he’d voted for it on sight, shaking his head at the three dresses I had tried on after it. A smooth column of lined silk poured down my body, held in place by thin beaded straps at my shoulders and back. I’d been wary of the color at first, but the gown did a splendid job of hinting at my curves, instead of hugging them.

“Thank you.”

He turned to face the room, his hand coming to rest on my hip in a blatantly possessive display of ownership. “In a couple of hours we can fly back to New York. Or we can grab a room here in the hotel.”

“Or join the mile-high club. After all, what’s the point of taking a private jet if we don’t get naughty in it?”

His fingers flexed into my flesh. “And once again, I have an erection in public. Thank you very much.”

I laughed and leaned into him. “What do you need to do here?”

“Not sure.” He took a drink. “Once Parker shows up, I’ll have an idea.”

“He relies on you a lot, doesn’t he?”

Jax shrugged, but I saw the tightness around his mouth again. It was soon echoed by a corresponding tautness to his big frame, and when I followed his gaze, I saw why. Parker and Regina Rutledge had arrived. The two stood near the entrance to the ballroom, surrounded by those who wanted to rub shoulders with a Rutledge. There were several of them in attendance, but Parker was the wizard behind the curtain whom everyone wanted to see.

He looked over at Jax and me, smiling when he caught my eye and then glancing at Jax. A silent bit of communication passed between them.

“Gimme a second, babe,” Jax murmured, then he walked away, striding easily through a crowd that parted for him.

I watched him until he reached his father, studying both men for body language.

“Well, you cleaned up nicely,” a familiar voice said beside me.

Turning my head, I looked at Allison Rutledge, formerly Allison Kelsey. I raked her with a glance, noting the changes. I’d barely seen her the night I escorted Ian, so I took the opportunity. She was thinner than she had been in Vegas and she’d been slender then. Polished and perfect in a brittle way, she appeared to have hardened and grown more jaded. There was a world-weariness in her eyes that echoed what I occasionally saw in Jax.

But she was still as beautiful as ever, with dark hair cut into a sleek bob that framed delicate features and big blue eyes. Her aqua-hued gown was a lovely contrast to her porcelain skin.

“Hello, Allison,” I said, turning my attention back to the two darkly handsome Rutledge men across the room.

“That’s a beautiful dress.” She examined me. “Gretchen must be partial to it. She suggested it to me, as well, but it’s not my style.”

I took another sip of champagne to hide how I felt at the unexpected mention of the stylist’s name. So, Gretchen was an ace in the hole for the entire Rutledge family. Nice to know. “You might be surprised to hear that it wasn’t my first choice, either.”

Her smile was anything but friendly. “You’re smart to let Jackson dress you. But then you’re obviously smarter than I gave you credit for, or you wouldn’t be here.”

“Can you go be a bitch somewhere else?” I said, waving my hand carelessly. “This is my space and you need to see your way out of it.”

“If I remember correctly, you’re not a woman who likes pretense and bullshit, so I’m not shoveling any your way. We have to get along, after all. Might as well start now.”

“We don’t have to do anything.” My gaze flicked over to her. “I suggest we do our best to avoid one another.”

Her brows rose as if she were surprised, then she laughed, the sound as melodious as her voice. “That’s not how this works, Gianna. You and I are going to be best friends, as far as public knowledge goes. We’ll have lunch and shop together. Ted and I will have dinner with you and Jackson. We’ll go to ball games and exhibitions. All sorts of things where we’ll smile at the camera and look tighter than sisters.”

“You’ve had too much champagne.”

“I’ll let Jackson explain it to you.” Her eyes were suspiciously bright, which got my back up.