To my surprise, Jax's eyes were nowhere near the iPad screen. Instead, I saw him scanning the skies with interest, looking where Camille pointed as she shouted: "There she is! I knew she wouldn't be far from him."
I looked past the cliff's edge until I saw another winged movement below, twisting in a wide circle near the fox corpse. "Ever since The Wild One found The Great One, they've been inseparable," she said. "She was raised by real parents, so she was really the one who could help him understand his heritage, that he was a free bird, not a captive."
In the distance, I heard motorcycles rumbling over the highway, a sound I couldn't hear any more without thinking of the night I'd thrown the Molotov. I glanced back toward Jax, and saw that his dark eyes were piercing right into me. The moment my eyes caught his, though, he averted his gaze downward.
Camille was still talking. "Over there, as you can see—"
"I've had about enough birds." Jax was quiet, but there was force behind his words. "I'm going back to the car."
Concern flooded me. What had made his mood change so suddenly? His face looked like a storm cloud had passed in front of it.
Sky spoke up first. "We'll come with you, Jax. We don't have to stay here. It's just birds."
He shook his head. "Stay. You're having fun. I'll still be waiting when you're finished."
"Are you su—" I started to reach toward Jax's shoulder, but he'd already started walking away. Sky took a deep breath and started talking to Camille like everything was normal. Chewie and Kev quickly followed her lead.
I wonder if they've had to do this before. The rest of the band might be able to pretend that nothing had happened, but Jax's unpredictable, erratic behavior had me worried. "Guys, I'm going back to find out what's up with Jax. But you stay here, this place is amazing."
Sky looked at me quickly and gave a short nod. Then I was off.
***
Jax's head was tilted down as I got to the car, and the glow on his face showed me that he was still wrapped up in the gift I'd given him. "Hey," I said as his thumbs twitched rhythmically against the glass. "Can we talk?"
Without changing his rhythm for a moment, Jax spoke. "Sure."
I opened the door and slid into the back seat next to him. "I'd like it better if I could look in your eyes," I said, as gently as I could.
Snarling with frustration, Jax thumb-swiped hard and set the tablet down. "Fine," he said, looking me dead in the face. His hardened look made it clear that he was trying to be tough, but somehow I saw something else there, too: fear and vulnerability. Even though Jax's stoic machismo was his way of dealing with trouble, I couldn't help but see that it had made him anxious and afraid.
"Jax, please just talk to me about what's going on," I said, my voice straining.
He looked away from me. "Look. I know this isn't what you signed up for."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
His eyes were closed, his fingers curling into his palms. "You saw things I never wanted you to see. Now you see me differently."
"I don't see you differently at all. You—"
"You deserve someone who can protect you, dammit," he said, looking into my eyes with a haunted gaze. "And instead, you ended up protecting me. You can deny it all you want, but I know it has to bother you."
Even though I knew Jax's words came from pain, it still stung to hear that he thought I'd be so heartless. "What are you talking about? That doesn't bother me. I wish I'd done more to get you to the hospital before the show, but that's guilt, not . . . whatever it is you're implying."
"You don't even know the worst of it," Jax said, his voice bitter. "And when you do, you're not going to want to be around me anymore anyway. I'm so fucked up right now."
I looked at him, confused. "What are you talking about?"
"Hell, I'm so fucked up I thought I saw Darrel on the highway for a minute on our way here. I'm fucking nuts, Riley. Can't you see that?" Jax's words sounded desperate, and my heart wrenched with guilt over the way the night with Darrel had gone.
"You're not nuts, Jax," I said, trying to keep my voice even. "You're just having a hard time. Anyone would be, after what you went through."
"Oh yeah?" A tight, bitter laugh escaped Jax's lips, and he stared back down at the dark iPad screen. "Then why are you pulling away from me?"
I put my hand over his. Jax seemed really scared—something I'd done had made him genuinely afraid he'd lose me. Gently, I squeezed his hand. "Why do you think I've been pulling away from you?" I asked softly.
He pulled his hand away. "You keep using this tone with me, like I'm a wounded animal or something. Your voice is soft where it used to be edgy, Pepper. You used to give me sass instead of spending your days worrying about whether I was okay."
"But I care about you." My eyes were filling with tears, but I couldn't let them fall. Jax was probably right, I had been treating him with kid gloves. But what was I supposed to do when I didn't want him to get hurt any more than he already had been?
"I know you care." His voice was gruff. "But this isn't just going to be all better. Not today, not tomorrow. Do you understand that? And you can't make me better any faster. I know it's not fun for you. If you want out, just say so."
I took both his hands into both of mine. "I can't make it better. But I can be here for you. I don't understand everything you're going through, but I'm not going anywhere."
His hands tensed. "I don't want to be treated like I'm broken."
"I don't think—" I started speaking gently, but then cut myself off. Was that really what Jax wanted? Jax saw kindness as pity. There had to be some other way to get through to him. An idea occurred to me.
I took my hands out of his. "I don't think you're broken at all." Slowly, I slid my open hand along his thigh, harder than just a gentle caress. I caught Jax's eye and held it as my hand slid up, up, slowly, until I heard his breath go in sharply. "Remember the night we first met?" I whispered.
Jax's eyes, dulled before, flickered to life for an instant. "What are you doing?" he asked with an incredulous look.
"What do you think I'm doing?" I slid my hand up against his fast-rising bulge. "I'm getting you hard."
Jax looked around the parking lot nervously. "Not right now, Riley. I—this may not be a good idea out here."
I leaned forward to the front console of the convertible and pressed a button. "Does this make it better?" I asked, moving to the back seat as the roof started sliding over the car, enclosing us in a bubble of privacy.
"I'm just not sure this will work," he muttered, embarrassed. "Since everything happened, I haven't . . . I mean, we haven't . . . I mean . . ."
I put a finger to my lips. "Shh. You don't have to do anything. I started something the day we met, and today I'm going to finish it."
He looked at me closely, his face a question: are you sure?
"Trust me. Just lay back," I said, my face turning into a grin. "You're in good hands."
When I saw him smile back, I pulled his zipper down.
His cock was as magnificent as the first time I'd seen it. I can't believe I fit that entire thing inside me, I thought, but the sudden tingling feeling between my legs told me that after so long without his touch, my cravings were as immense as he was.
I licked my hands to make them slippery, then slid them over the head of his cock, making him gasp with pleasure. Slowly, I moved one hand down over the other, keeping them both stroking in a steady rhythm.
"God, I missed feeling you," Jax moaned.
"I missed feeling you," I purred against his ear, grasping his cock harder.
As my fingers squeezed over him, Jax's eyes closed tight with pleasure.
Taking my palms away, I traced a line down the underside of his cock with my finger. "Open your eyes, Jax," I said, suddenly realizing exactly how I needed to get through to him.
"What?"
"Open them. Just keep them open."
His eyelids lifted, and dark-rimmed pupils stared int
o mine. I moved my fingers in tightening waves around the shaft of his cock, and his muscles grew taut, straining against his clothing, as I watched his face—the face of the rock star I'd made mine.
As I moved my thumb and forefinger to the head of his cock, still stroking with my other hand, his gasps grew quicker. Beads of sweat erupted on his forehead, and his breaths were almost a cry.
"Riley, be careful," he said, his words interrupted by shallow breaths. "It's been a long time. You're going to make me come."
"I know," I said. "I want to."
"Band will be back," he panted, his face etched with lines of effort. "Nothing to clean it up with."
"I can think of something," I said, and bent my head down toward his cock. I want you, Jax. Now do you understand?
"Oh, God, Riley. . . I'm not going to last . . ."
Good. If I could get Jax back, the old Jax, the Jax I knew. I kept my hand squeezing firmly as my lips slid around him and I took him into my mouth. His hands fisted into my hair as my tongue skimmed the head, and as I heard him cry out, I brought my lips around him even deeper.
Jax's body jerked, and my mouth filled with the taste of the sea as his fists tightened suddenly, then relaxed.
I swallowed and took my mouth and hands away slowly, straightening in the back seat. Jax looked at me with a mixture of contentment and awe. More importantly, he looked like himself.
"See?" I said, smiling and feeling just a little bit like a world-class sex goddess. "No cleanup needed."
He reached out an arm to put around me, and I nestled in against his body. It took everything I had not to press closer, but I knew that the flesh beneath Jax's shirt was raw and bruised.
It felt like we laid there a long time like that, not saying anything, not moving—just enjoying the feel of our bodies lying next to each other.
After minutes of silence passed, Jax took a deep breath. "I've been thinking about what you said before," he said, giving my shoulder a squeeze.
"Huh?" I said, blinking myself back out of the dreamy reverie I was in.
"About beefing up security for the concert," he said evenly. "I think you may be right."
"Wait, really?"
"It wouldn't hurt. I'll call about it tomorrow."
I narrowed my eyes, wondering what had brought on the sudden change of heart. Does it really matter? Don't look a gift horse in the mouth.
"Thank you," I said finally. "That means a lot to me."
Maybe he'd changed his mind because of the sex—but so what if he had? He was right. I'd been treating him like he was made of porcelain ever since the night of the Molotov, and that couldn't feel good.
But at least I'd managed to coax him out of his shell, and for now, even something that small felt like a victory. There was no way for me to know how long it would last, but I did know one thing—I would keep doing whatever it took to make him well again.
Chapter Eight
CHANGE
After our stop at Big Sur, we made record time to San Francisco with Chewie happily coaxing as much speed out of the convertible as he could on the winding coastal road.
And for the first time since Jax had brought me to the scene of his darkest secrets, I was happy, too—and it wasn't because of the awesome scenery. The whole rest of the way, Jax held my hand, even when he teased me. He laughed and joked with the band. From the surprised looks everyone shot one another, I could tell that no one was sure what had happened with Jax—not that it stopped us from enjoying it, just the same.
But every time I glanced at Jax's smiling face, I reminded myself of what he'd told me. He still had a long way to go to heal. I shouldn't expect changes overnight. And though the handjob had brought us closer than we'd been all week¸ we were still far from being back to normal. Not that we'd ever really had a normal relationship, but before all this drama we'd at least been free to simply enjoy each other, without Jax's demons coming between us.
Despite my wariness over Jax's good mood, he continued to surprise me. It stayed with him all through our first night in San Francisco, and even into the next day. And at the radio station where the band had their interview, he surprised me even more.
While answering questions from the pretty female DJ, he positively smouldered, making eyes at me that even made the show host take notice—because she thought it was all for her. As I watched from a seat in the back of the studio, I thought she would melt under the full force of his scorching persona.
Where did that come from? Maybe it was the handjob, maybe it was because this was a work situation, after all, but it seemed like my sexy boyfriend was back.
Don't get too excited. Jax still had a lot of trauma that he needed to deal with. But it did seem like he was improving—he'd even asked me to go out on a date after the interview wrapped up. I knew that Jax could put together one hell of a good evening, so I'd been looking forward to it for most of the day.
When the interview finished, Jax came over to where I sat in the back of the studio.
"Ready to hit the road?" he asked with a smile.
"I'm ready," I said, picking up my purse and standing up. "But I'm still dying to know why you insisted on me wearing sneakers today, instead of sandals. I'm a New Yorker, I can go miles in a pair of espadrilles."
Jax smiled again, a sly one this time. "You'll see. Besides, I think those are cute. They look like clown shoes."
Grimacing, I looked down at my multi-colored feet. The running shoes I'd packed on the off chance that I could squeeze in some exercise on this tour were so brightly neon that they could blind an unwary onlooker. In retrospect, that's probably why they'd been such a bargain—they were hard to look at without getting nauseous.
I raised an eyebrow. "Hopefully wherever we're going doesn't have a dress code."
"If it did, you'd definitely start a new trend," Jax said with a smirk. "Come on, let's go."
He wouldn't say another word about where we were going during the cab ride, but since he had me wear these shoes, I felt fairly certain that wherever we went, we'd be doing a lot of walking.
And when the cab dropped us off, I saw that I wasn't wrong.
I gave a slow whistle. "Wow. We're going all the way up there?
We stood at the foot of the steepest hill I'd ever seen. A hill so steep, that the street just stopped, as if the city builders had given up. In its place, a set of wooden stairs snaked their way up to the top. I could just see through the trees a white tower that perched at the hill's summit. He was right, sandals would have been murder on a climb like that.
"Telegraph Hill," Jax said with satisfaction. "And we're going to the top. It's got the best view of the city."
I gave him a sidelong look. "Did the doctor say when you would be ready for something like this?" I looked up again at the dizzying staircase. "There must be like five hundred steps."
"He said it was okay to get some exercise," Jax said. "And this won't be a problem for me." He gave me a smirk that was filled with his usual teasing sense of humor. "Maybe you're the one not up for the challenge."
"I'm not that out of condition yet," I retorted. "I bet I'll still be ready for more when you're wheezing that you can't go on."
Jax's eyes narrowed. "And I bet that you'll be begging me to carry you the last few yards."
I shook my head, smiling. "Not a chance. Care to make it interesting? The one who's hurting the most at the end buys dinner."
"You're on."
On the first flight of stairs, my thigh muscles stretched in a way they hadn't since . . . well, since I'd ridden Jax to orgasmic oblivion in Las Vegas. I smiled with pleasure. Whatever our relationship ended up being like once Jax healed, I wanted that kind of fun to happen often. Daily, even.
My distracting thoughts melted away after about forty steps, when my breath started to hitch. No, not already!
"Having problems?" Jax asked, a gleam in his eye. "Need a rest?"
"No," I huffed. "Just getting into the swing of it. Maybe you just want a
n excuse to stop."
"I'm fine," Jax replied, his voice hardly winded. "This feels great."
I glanced at him. His chest rose and fell easily, and he climbed with an energy usually reserved for his rock shows. Sweat beaded on his forehead, and he took off the button up shirt he wore over his wifebeater without even breaking his stride.
Damn it, he's been in the hospital and he's in better condition than me. I grinned to myself, taking in the way his biceps stretched taut under his tan skin. Not that I'm complaining.
My breath hitched again, and I concentrated on climbing. Up ahead, a long landing interrupted the flight of stairs, stretching around either side of the hill. Houses jutted out alongside it, making the landing look like a little sidewalk. Maybe I could find a way to rest up there that wouldn't undo our bet.
"Come on," I said, scrambling ahead of Jax, my chest heaving. "I call a truce if there's a good view from up there. We don't want to miss it, right?"
Suddenly, a stinging slap landed on my ass. A cry escaped my lips, and I turned to see Jax grinning at me.
"I like the view just fine from here," he said, his eyes gleaming in a way that I loved to see. This date seemed to be keeping his spirits up . . . if not something else, I thought with a wicked grin.
I rubbed the spot where his hand had landed and arched an eyebrow at him. "So you did have an ulterior motive for coming up here."
"No, that's just one of the perks. I can't help it if you're sticking your butt in my face, asking for it."
I started climbing again, swinging my rear in an exaggerated sway. "If I'm asking for it, then come and get it," I said over my shoulder.
Jax pressed his lips together with determination and made a lunge for me. His hand brushed the back of my leg, but missed as I dodged away from him. Laughing, I turned and ran up the stairs. The sound of Jax's shoes scraping on the wooden stairs as he chased me sent a thrill of excitement through me, and with a sudden burst of energy, I scrambled up onto the landing.
I turned to get my bearings and stopped still. I gazed around in wonder.