The Pull | Jax Teller

Service

Delilah was fresh out of the shower and her mind was still reeling from the revelation about Gemma's rape. She quickly changed into a simple red nightie and went into the dining room. Jax was smoking a cigarette while sewing his patches back on.

He had been quiet since they came home. Delilah was fairly sure she knew where his mind was at. It scared her really to think about how she knew what Jax was going to do. It's then she realized how well she knew Jax. Knew all his little idiosyncrasies and what his silences meant. And right now he was calm about the truth. She knew that he was plotting his revenge smartly. That would probably change when she told him the truth about her car accident.

Delilah sat down at the kitchen table. She's unsure of how to even approach this subject. "You're going after Zobelle?"

"I'd do the same for you," Jax told her firmly.

As she looked at Jax, his father's manuscript came to her mind. John had written violence wasn't always the way – the answer. Violence only led to more violence. But maybe Jax was right in that for things to change it will have to get bloody.

"Jax –"

They are both startled when someone knocked on the door. Jax was instantly up with his gun as he slowly approached the door. Jax motioned for her to stay in the kitchen. She watched as he approached the door, his body tightly coiled. As he looked through the peephole, he relaxed.

Jax opened the door revealing Clay. "Sorry. I know it's late."

Before anyone of them can reply, they were interrupted when Abel began to cry. Delilah went to get him, but she was stopped by Jax as he handed her his gun. "I'll get him. I got it."

...

Clay stayed for 30 minutes. In that time, Delilah had taken it upon her to finish stitching Jax's patches on. It kept her calm enough as she knew Jax and Clay were going over their tactic in bringing down Zobelle.

Delilah had just put away the sewing kit when Jax and Clay walk down the hall. She watched from the corner of her eyes as the two gave each other a hug before Clay left.

Jax stepped back into the kitchen and looked at his restored kutte. "You didn't have to do that."

Delilah shrugged her shoulders.

"Come on, let's get to bed."

Delilah followed Jax into the bedroom. She settled under the covers while Jax was still up undressing. She watched as he began to methodically remove his clothes. It almost reminded her of surgeons preparing for surgery. It had this detached quality to it. She was also reminded that the privilege of watching him doing this was on borrowed time. He threw his clothes into the hamper as he turned off the lights and joined her in bed.

Delilah was lying on her side facing Jax as he rested on his back. He stared up at the ceiling and there was a familiar stirring in her to comfort Jax and take away his pain.

She watched as Jax turned his head to face her, the moonlight reflecting on him making him seem like he was glowing.

Jax's hand came up and he raked his fingers through her hair and ghosted over her neck.

Jax took the opening and she didn't need light to know his eyes were already clouded with arousal, she could already feel it pressing against her. She expected maybe a bruising kiss as his lips began to descend down to hers. However, he paused with their lips barely touching and they were breathing each other's air. It's devastatingly intimate, but she couldn't close her eyes as they drank each other in.