Perfect Redemption

Fourteen: In Which She Opens Up Little By Little

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      I shoot a text message to Ben, telling him that we're going to strike tonight. I've been eyeballing this house for some time—a house not far away from his neighborhood. Ben had grudgingly agreed a few days prior, agreeing to be my eyes and ears, scouting the area and making sure that we are good to go for tonight.

    I feel bad that I dragged Ben into this but I need him. I can't pull this off alone.

    I slide my phone back into my pocket of my uniform and sigh as I wait for Jax to come out of the dressing room. We're already at the studio and Hunter and I are just mingling around, doing absolutely nothing. I can't believe my job has been reduced to this-walking around out of sheer boredom while waiting on Jax.

    It kind of makes me wonder why I ever decide to go for training anyway. The paparazzi aren't as bad as they were before. They often follow us everywhere we go but they stay by the sidelines, eagerly taking shots of us and waiting for answers to the questions that they throw at us.

    I don't do much except for shoving a few of them away lightly, or telling them to give Jax a little bit more space. They're almost harmless now and I actually suggested to Jax that I should quit since there's nothing threatening to his security, but he just brushes me off.

    It's like he actually wants me with him at all times.

    Maybe the bodyguard thing is just an excuse for me to be with him.

    I roll my eyes. He's determined as hell to get me. I can see it in his eyes every time he looks at me. There's a certain fierceness in his gaze, a ferocity burning so big that even I can feel the heat. He wants me-so bad-and he's hungry for me.

    Like a predator wants his prey.

    I can't let it happen. I can't let him get to me. He just wants to fuck me. I've been with guys like him before. They do anything in their willpower to claim you, and when they do, when they succeed, they throw you away like you're nothing but trash. That's the kind of person Jax is.

    I am not going to be treated like trash.

    I need to suppress my desire for him. But no matter how hard I try, I fail, crumbling in his arms at the slightest of his touch. I can't help it—he's so damn irresistible. He makes my breasts ache with need and my panties drenched. He makes me think of the things I'd do to him in bed—kiss him, lick him, taste him, suck him, ride him.

    I never wanted to fuck any other man more than I wanted to fuck him.

    Oh lordy lord, save me now.

    No man has ever had that kind of effect on me—not even Ben.

    "Are you done?" I whine, shoving all thoughts about fucking Jax away. I pace in front of his dressing room, arms folded over my chest. "You've been in there for far too long."

    "Calm down. Jesus," Jax says out of irritation.

    "I'm not a patient person." I groan.

    "Why don't you just hang out with Hunter or something?"

    "I would, but he's talking to his wife. And they're still doing the 'you hang up first. No, you hang up first. No, you hang up.'" I roll my eyes. "Please don't make me go through that."

    "Fine. I'll be out in a minute."

    Jax did stay true to his word. Less than a minute later, the dressing room door opens and I gasp when he comes out wearing a white tuxedo. My eyes widen as I take in his beautiful form—from the white button up shirt to his suite jacket, all the way to his black dress shoes. He looks like an angelic James Bond.