He Use To Be A Son Of Anarchy

Chapter Eighteen: Broken Glass

I jolted upright, unaware of where I was at first. When I realised I was in my own room I calmed down a bit, but then I suddenly remembered what happened the previous afternoon.

Terry had tried to force himself on me. If Jax hadn't showed up...

Jax.

I kissed him. Oh God. Why did I do that? Was I trying to thank him for saving my life? That was definitely not the way to go. He probably now thought I was coming on to him. I felt like such an idiot.

I threw the blankets to the side and got up. My bedroom door was ajar and I peered into the living area. Jax was sitting in one of the arm chairs. His back was to me and I couldn't see if he was still awake.

As quietly as I could I opened the door and headed to the kitchen walking on my tip toes.

I grabbed a glass from the cupboard and poured icy water from the fridge into it.

"You're up," Jax said from the chair.

I almost choked on my water. I hurriedly wiped my mouth off and turned around.

"What time is it?" I asked.

"Around 3am," he said getting up.

I put the glass down on the counter and rubbed at my eyes.

"You should go back to bed," he said.

I shook my head. "I don't think I'll be able to fall asleep again."

He made his way towards the counter and stood opposite me. I realised that I still owed him an apology for kissing him.

"Listen, Jax, about last night. I was confused and relieved all at once. I shouldn't have kissed you."

He looked down at the counter and then back up at me. He was smiling.

"I really wish that you wouldn't apologise for that," he said. His brilliant blue eyes locked with mine. Slowly he made his way around the counter.

"But like I said. It didn't count," he said playfully. He was now inches away from me.

"It shouldn't have happened," I said.

"No, it should've. Just not that way," he said. His fingers brushed my arm.

"Jax," I said looking down at where his hands were trailing towards my shoulders.

I looked up to find him looking at me with a look similar to a lion eyeing a gazelle. He leaned in, his lips close my ears.

"Jax," I breathed again.

I felt his hot breathe moving from my ear, over my cheek and stopping as our foreheads met.

Slowly he planted a kiss on my lips. Warmth built up from inside me and my stomach felt like a thousand butterflies had been released.

I kissed him back, trying to strengthen myself against the counter, but knocking the glass over instead. It fell with a crash to the floor.

He didn't jerk away, but slowly released his lips from mine and surveyed the floor.

In one swift move, he picked me up and placed me on the counter.

"You aren't wearing shoes," he said as I looked at him puzzled.

I didn't care about the glass or my feet being split open. I wanted him to kiss me again.

Trying to direct his attention back to me I gently touched his cheek, trying to bring his focus back to where our lips were just moments ago.