Jax (Titan #9)
Cristin Harber
CHAPTER ONE
Slap.
Jax's cheek stung as the eighties rock band hit a power chord and the dance floor went wild. Wedding guests danced, guys lifted their beer bottles as they sang along, and kids screamed through the melee with blinking neon lights. He would've put his hand to his face to calm the sting from the open-palmed hand-slap rejection, but there was no way he would give Seven that level of satisfaction.
"What?" Seven let her delicious pink lips tip into the slightest hint of a smile. "You've never been rejected before, big boy?"
Maybe he'd had a few too many wedding-reception-themed shots, but that she didn't give him her full smile… He shook his head and considered it a challenge to earn her full, sexy grin. "Was that a no?"
"Most people would think so."
He raised an eyebrow. "Too bad. I thought it was the start of foreplay."
"Not a chance." The tip of Seven's tongue darted out and licked her bottom lip, taunting him with her tongue stud. "I didn't think I had to spell it out."
His deep laugh rumbled as his hand ran behind the dress shirt's loosened collar. "And why's that?"
"You're the type to have been slapped a time or two."
"Never once."
"Really?" An eyebrow with two tiny pink jewels on the end of an unseen barbell piercing lifted. "I call BS."
"Cross my heart." He made a cross as she rolled her eyes.
They would be the oddest pairing in the history of wedding reception hookups—except this one was going nowhere… unless she left with him.
"Never slapped until me."
"Until you, sweetheart." And wasn't that the hottest thing that a woman had ever done? Said no with style. Seven was unforgettable in every way he could tell.
For the past two years, they had shared more than a few dirty looks, and for the past two hours, they'd shared liquor, shaken and stirred, poured into shot glasses, and announced with ridiculous names like Devotion Potion, About Thyme, and Something Blue.
Each shot was as brightly colored as Seven. The bold colors were needed, she explained, to combat dark and grumpy people like him. Twice, she'd called him a jerkface, and with every jab, he wanted to take her back to his hotel room even more.
When she'd slapped him, it had taken every ounce of restraint not to kiss her until her mind changed. Consent was a thing, and he got it loud and clear, but God, Seven made his chest tight when she got feisty. He was certain her "no" was concrete, but hell if he didn't want to know what lay under her maid-of-honor dress.
Jared Westin slapped Jax on the back. "Am I interrupting?"
Jax grumbled, and Seven snickered her hello. And poof—the locked-eye standoff between him and Seven disappeared like forgotten bad dance moves on a wedding reception night gone long.
"Hey, Boss Man." Jax checked his annoyance and decided it was better that Jared thought he was on his best behavior rather than irritating the wedding party. "Just catching up."
"My lady friends deck me too when we catch up."
Jax's official title could have been Titan Jackass for all the aggravations he'd caused, though most times it was justified. Including now. "No punches were thrown."
Jared tipped back his beer and took a long draw, lifting it away to greet someone a few tables over then turned back to Seven. "Miscategorization. Was it a slap, then? I just saw…" He lifted his arm and swung it out. "The follow-through after impact."
Jax chortled. "Drama llamas."
"Do llamas drink beer?" Boss Man joked.
Jax kept laughing. "Have you been asking your kids for your lines lately?"
"It was a slap." Her coy smile served only to reignite Jax's hope that a "no" today might be a "try again" sometime soon. "As evident by the handprint on that handsome cheek and my deep satisfaction."
"Handsome, huh?" Jared repeated, stroking the beard he'd been growing. "Eye of the beholder."
Jax rolled his eyes. "Some could say the same about—"
"Remember who signs the paychecks."
"Handsome or not"—Seven elbowed Jax's side—"he deserved it."
She lingered, warm and playful, and Jax took a tight breath as Boss Man eyed their dynamic. He'd already been slapped, so what did Jax have to lose? He tossed an arm over her bare shoulder and sensed Seven freeze. His skimming fingers caressed her soft skin as goose bumps prickled. He couldn't wait to try again sometime soon and gave her arm a light squeeze. "You left no handprint, beautiful. No evidence."
"How do you know? You can't see your cheek." She leaned closer, long eyelashes upturned, and the friction of their clothes made a soft swish in the raucous room.
A choked laugh caught in Jared's throat, and amused, he tipped his bottle toward Jax. "But there was a witness." Then he took another swig and tipped his head toward Seven. "If you need a guy, I hold up well under cross-examination."
"Good to know," she joked.
Jax fought the urge to fold Seven tighter to his side and mold her to his hip. Her laughter ran the length of her body, staying with him after she stopped.