J. Lynn - Stay With Me

Like the night before, two fingers curled around my chin, forcing my face straight on with his, and it was with his head lowered near mine. And his mouth . . . it was inches from mine.

“You don’t believe what he said, do you?” His voice was deceptively low, soft.

My throat dried.

He let go of my arm and pressed his hand against the wall, beside my head, keeping the other one at my chin. “I can’t believe this shit.”

I blinked. “It’s not like I have a low self-esteem. I just believe in reality—like I’m Realistic Rachel.”

“Realistic Rachel?” His brows knitted as he mouthed the words again silently.

“Yeah,” I breathed. What I was about to say was true. “I know what people see when they look at me. Most people don’t say anything because they’re not jerks, but I know what they see. It’s been that way since I was ten years old. And there’s no changing that.”

Jax stared at me, his full lips slightly parted. “What do they see, Calla?”

“Do I really need to spell that out?” I shot back, irritated and frustrated and about a thousand other things. “I think it’s pretty obvious.”

His eyes searched mine. “Yeah, it is obvious.”

Even though that’s what I’d been saying this whole time, hearing him agree still felt like a punch to the boob. I wanted to look away, but he wasn’t allowing it. “I think I need to get back out—”

His mouth landed on mine.

Oh my lawd . . .

There was no warning, nothing that would’ve given away what he’d been about to do. One second I was talking, and then the next, his warm mouth was on mine.

Jax kissed me.

My brain short-circuited the moment it fully recognized that Jax was kissing me—that, in fact, his lips really were on mine.

And it wasn’t just a peck on the lips.

No, it wasn’t deep and there weren’t tongues involved, nothing like the kisses I read about in romance novels, the wet kind that seemed a little gross to me, but I imagined, if done right, would have me dropping my shorts like no tomorrow, but this kiss . . . it was real.

His lips were melded to mine, and I was awed by the way they felt. They were soft, but firm, and I didn’t know one thing could be both. They followed the curve of my lips, as if he were just mapping them out.

My arms were frozen at my sides, but I could feel my body start to lean forward, off the wall and toward his. Our bodies didn’t connect, though, which was probably a good thing.

I was already only seconds away from combusting.

Jax lifted his head from mine, and I realized then that my eyes were closed. Even so, I could feel his gaze on my warm cheeks, on the tip of my nose . . . my lips.

“You kissed me,” I whispered, and yeah, it was a stupid statement, but I was feeling pretty stupid.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded deeper, gruffer. Sexier. “I did.”

I forced my eyes open and was staring at an unofficial member of the Hot Guy Brigade.

He leaned in, his arm against the wall taking his weight as he dropped his hand from my chin. “I don’t kiss girls that I don’t find hot as hell or beautiful. So, you get my point?”

There were fuzz balls in my brain. “You kissed me to prove a point?”

A ghost of a smile appeared. “Felt like it was the quickest way to prove the point.”

That it was. I didn’t know if I should feel offended that he kissed me to prove a point and that most likely meant there was nothing else driving the kiss, or if I should be flattered that by kissing me he thought I was hot as hell and beautiful.

I didn’t know what to think or say, so I just slumped back against the wall as he pushed off it. Half grin in place, he reached over and opened the door.

“Nothing like that will ever happen again in this bar,” Jax said, and then he was out the door.

He’d said that like it was a promise—a promise there was no way he could keep, but it was another . . . sweet thing to do.

I closed my eyes again, letting out a breath as I ducked my chin to my chest. Three weeks ago, I was living in Shepherdstown with my Three F’s, close to graduating, and this bar wasn’t even a forethought in my head. My life had been focused around goals—graduating, finding a job in nursing, and reaping the benefits of following through with said goal.

That was all.

Weeks later, everything had changed. Here I was, standing in Mona’s with an MIA mom, no money, my future completely up in the air, and an unofficial member of the Hot Guy Brigade had kissed me.

Nothing planned about that and none of those things fell into my carefully crafted Three F’s plan.

But that kiss . . . to prove a point or not, it had been important. Really important. After all, it had been my first real kiss.

For about a billion reasons, I was grateful when Pearl appeared in the hall, telling me she was taking me home. Although I hated being shuffled around like I had no say in what I was doing, after what had gone down with Mack and then Jax, I wasn’t against getting out of the bar and clearing my head of the nasty and the not so nasty.

I’d grabbed my purse and said my good-byes to Clyde. On the way out, I told myself not to look for Jax, and I managed to listen to that demand for about two seconds. At the door, I glanced at the busy bar. Jax was there with Roxy. Both were smiling and laughing as they were working the customers.

Roxy looked up, giving me a quick, distracted wave, which I returned.

Jax didn’t even look up.

A twinge of unease, and something far more annoying and ridiculous, lit up my chest. I stomped the feeling down as I followed Pearl outside and focused on getting my car back ASAP the next day.

Pearl chatted idly as she drove me to the house, once again without me having to give her directions. I liked her, and being that she was probably the same age as my mom, I kind of imagined that this was what my mom would look like if she hadn’t decided to go traipsing through trashville.