you telling me this is just about sex to you?"
"Of course it's just about sex!" she screeched. "We had a deal. You were going to stay three weeks, and then you're leaving. I realized we could have some fun during that time, but nothing more. Do you understand me, Jax? This is only about sex. I don't need or want a husband, and I never will. You might as well get used to the idea, because I'm not changing my mind. We have no future together. Nothing. I don't even like you. I just like fucking you."
Jax just looked at her, saying nothing. Then he stood so quickly the bench tipped over behind him as he stomped out of the room. The door slammed behind him, and Sarai sat down heavily. Her heart was racing, and she felt hot. She couldn't believe she'd yelled at him like that. What would Calvin have done to her if she'd raised her voice to him? She couldn't even begin to imagine…
Chapter Six
I don't even like you. I just like fucking you.
Jax took a long pull on his drink, trying not to let the words play themselves over and over in his head. He couldn't believe she'd said that; couldn't believe she meant it. She cared about him. He knew it—it was in every caress she gave him, all the little things she did for him.
If she was just using him for sex, why did she take the time to cook his favorite meals?
Why did she wait up for him at night, take him into her arms and hold him even when they didn't fuck as she so crudely put it? Just holding her, standing next to her was the most beautiful thing he'd ever experienced in his life. She made him happy, content, for the first time. There was no way he believed what she'd said.
I just like fucking you.
Bitch. She was trying to hurt him; he realized that. And she had done a damn good job of it. What had he done to deserve this kind of treatment? He'd been kind and caring, he adored her children. He would give anything to make her happy, and all she seemed to want to give in return was her body. And even that was on a limited basis. He couldn't kiss her in public; touch her where the children could see them.
She wouldn't even let him move into her room, insisting that he keep his own even though he'd told her to rent it out a hundred times. A clanking noise caught his attention.
The bartender, a pretty woman in her early twenties, stood before him, polishing a glass.
"Want another drink, handsome?" she said, giving him a broad smile. Her look was appraising, an open invitation. He squinted at her, trying to focus on her face. But all he could see were her large, impressive breasts. Something was on them, a nametag. Giselle.
She gave a throaty laugh and leaned forward on her elbows, giving him a better view. He realized he could have her if he wanted her, and she'd probably be a hell of a lot more open to him than Sarai.
"Sure, I'll take another," he said, smiling at her. But the gesture felt hollow; he wasn't interested in this woman. He'd spent so much of his life chasing after so many women; he'd never dreamed he could be satisfied with just one. But now that he'd met Sarai, the thought of touching anyone else left him cold.
There was no doubt she was his lifemate.
Who was she to deny that? By Saurellian law, he could take her. He could just take her in his ship to Saurellia, and not a man or woman in the entire system would blame him for his actions. She was his , and only his. She had no right to turn him away.
He took another drink, warming to the idea. That's what he would do. He'd just take her. He threw down some change on the bar to cover his bill and a little extra for Giselle, and stood unsteadily. His vision blurred, and he wondered for a minute just how long he had been there. He walked slowly and carefully to the door, then opened it.
Someone had turned off the sun.
Wait. No. It was dark outside. He must have been in the bar far longer than he realized.
Not that it mattered. He would go collect Sarai and the children and they would go to Saurellia. The
"Of course it's just about sex!" she screeched. "We had a deal. You were going to stay three weeks, and then you're leaving. I realized we could have some fun during that time, but nothing more. Do you understand me, Jax? This is only about sex. I don't need or want a husband, and I never will. You might as well get used to the idea, because I'm not changing my mind. We have no future together. Nothing. I don't even like you. I just like fucking you."
Jax just looked at her, saying nothing. Then he stood so quickly the bench tipped over behind him as he stomped out of the room. The door slammed behind him, and Sarai sat down heavily. Her heart was racing, and she felt hot. She couldn't believe she'd yelled at him like that. What would Calvin have done to her if she'd raised her voice to him? She couldn't even begin to imagine…
Chapter Six
I don't even like you. I just like fucking you.
Jax took a long pull on his drink, trying not to let the words play themselves over and over in his head. He couldn't believe she'd said that; couldn't believe she meant it. She cared about him. He knew it—it was in every caress she gave him, all the little things she did for him.
If she was just using him for sex, why did she take the time to cook his favorite meals?
Why did she wait up for him at night, take him into her arms and hold him even when they didn't fuck as she so crudely put it? Just holding her, standing next to her was the most beautiful thing he'd ever experienced in his life. She made him happy, content, for the first time. There was no way he believed what she'd said.
I just like fucking you.
Bitch. She was trying to hurt him; he realized that. And she had done a damn good job of it. What had he done to deserve this kind of treatment? He'd been kind and caring, he adored her children. He would give anything to make her happy, and all she seemed to want to give in return was her body. And even that was on a limited basis. He couldn't kiss her in public; touch her where the children could see them.
She wouldn't even let him move into her room, insisting that he keep his own even though he'd told her to rent it out a hundred times. A clanking noise caught his attention.
The bartender, a pretty woman in her early twenties, stood before him, polishing a glass.
"Want another drink, handsome?" she said, giving him a broad smile. Her look was appraising, an open invitation. He squinted at her, trying to focus on her face. But all he could see were her large, impressive breasts. Something was on them, a nametag. Giselle.
She gave a throaty laugh and leaned forward on her elbows, giving him a better view. He realized he could have her if he wanted her, and she'd probably be a hell of a lot more open to him than Sarai.
"Sure, I'll take another," he said, smiling at her. But the gesture felt hollow; he wasn't interested in this woman. He'd spent so much of his life chasing after so many women; he'd never dreamed he could be satisfied with just one. But now that he'd met Sarai, the thought of touching anyone else left him cold.
There was no doubt she was his lifemate.
Who was she to deny that? By Saurellian law, he could take her. He could just take her in his ship to Saurellia, and not a man or woman in the entire system would blame him for his actions. She was his , and only his. She had no right to turn him away.
He took another drink, warming to the idea. That's what he would do. He'd just take her. He threw down some change on the bar to cover his bill and a little extra for Giselle, and stood unsteadily. His vision blurred, and he wondered for a minute just how long he had been there. He walked slowly and carefully to the door, then opened it.
Someone had turned off the sun.
Wait. No. It was dark outside. He must have been in the bar far longer than he realized.
Not that it mattered. He would go collect Sarai and the children and they would go to Saurellia. The
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