Page 25 of Wasted Lust

It wasn’t enough.

It will never be enough to just prepare. I have to embrace the coming confrontation as inevitable. Only that acceptance gets me through the panic and paranoia. Only that silences the nagging voice in my head that says, This isn’t over, Sasha. Not by a long shot.

Will it ever be over? Will I ever put the Company behind me and have a normal life?

An alert beeps on the screen. A black car has pulled into my driveway. The door opens and Jax gets out wearing a long black pea coat that gives me a peek of the dark suit it’s covering up. He checks his watch, then pushes the door closed before striding up the walkway to the porch like a man who owns the world.

I wish I had his confidence.

The doorbell rings, so I exit the security room and close the door behind me. I take a deep breath as I walk to the front of the house, and then pause for a moment before pulling the door open.

“Miss Cherlin,” he says in that deep throaty growl. “You look lovely.” He smiles at me, and God, what a smile. The dimple that reminds me a little bit of Ford. The confidence that reminds me of James. And the air of danger that reminds me of Merc. “You take my breath away.”

God, what a player. “Please call me Miss Aston if you want to be formal. I left Sasha Cherlin behind a decade ago.”

“May I come in?” he asks, ignoring my request and reaching for the security screen. It locks automatically through a mechanism on the anklet when I step into the house, so he doesn’t get far. And his fruitless tug on the door makes me smile for some reason. But he recovers from that little surprise and shoots me a smile that is alarmingly disarming. “Or have you changed your mind?”

He backs away. Just a small step, but my heart flutters when I think he might take his invitation back. “No,” I say calmly. His eyes brighten, as if he was the one who was worried we would not have our date tonight. But I’m dressed. And I answered the door. So he must know I’d come. “I didn’t change my mind. I take a lot of precautions, that’s all.”

He nods. And it’s not a nod that makes fun of me for being so careful, but one of understanding. “You don’t have to worry about that stuff as long as I’m with you, Miss Aston. You’re safe with me.”

His use of my new name makes me blush for some reason. He didn’t acknowledge my request, but he did honor it. And that eases my discomfort about what I’m doing just a little bit. Plus, he basically offered himself up as my protector with that statement.

I have never wanted or needed a protector. I’ve only ever had partners. James, Harper, and Merc. Ford became my de facto protector when he adopted me, I guess. But he’s not a physical fighter. His brand of protection is more along the lines of highly trained attack dogs, military-grade security systems, and hacking skills.

Jax’s offer comes off more threatening. Not like Merc, who can send grown men running with a glare. Or James, who you never see coming, because he doesn’t make threats, he just makes good on them.

No, it comes off like a man with authority.

“Thank you,” I say as I unlock the outer door, intending on walking out on the porch.

But Jax has the security door firmly in his grasp and he takes a step forward, like he wants to come inside. “You need a coat, Miss Aston. A cold front has moved in.”

I panic for a moment, wondering if I want him in my house. But he takes away my choice when his imposing body blocks the doorway, and I have to step back to allow this move.

“Do you have one? Or should I find one for you?”

“A coat?” I laugh off the way he just intimidated me into letting him inside and turn away, heading towards the coat closet. “Of course I have coats.” I open the door and take one off the hanger that will go with the formal dress. I don’t think I have ever worn it, so I check the sleeve for a tag, and then let out a breath of relief that I don’t have to rip it off in front of him and let him in on the fact that I never have an occasion to wear something so fancy.

Jax takes it from my hands, his body behind me, so very close to my own. So close I can feel his warm breath as he leans down and whispers, “Let me help you with that.”

I swallow and slip my arms into the satin interior of a long black wool coat with silver fox lining the collar and cuffs, before turning round to face him.

“Are you nervous?” he asks.

“No,” I lie. This makes him smile and I have to wonder what kind of training he’s had. Merc was astute in reading me. He’s trained to look at body language and expressions. He can tell a lot by the color of my face or the way I hold my shoulders. And Jax was trained by the FBI. He could have these skills, since Merc got them when he was in the Army.

“I like this,” Jax says, eyeing my dress and coat appreciatively. His fingertips come up next to my cheek and plunge into the soft, thick fur. “It’s real,” he says, looking at the fur for a moment before dragging a heated stare up to my eyes. “I’m a little surprised such an educated girl would wear real fur.”

I crinkle my nose at his insult. “If you think I’m some do-gooder college revolutionary who has time for stupid things like fur bans, then you don’t know me at all. I eat meat, wear leather, and have killed at least a dozen foxes for threatening chickens on my grandparents’ ranch. I skinned each one of them and turned them into useful articles. It’s more of a sin to waste them by letting them rot than it is to wear them on a coat.”

“I like it, Miss Aston,” he says seductively as he leans into my ear. “I was joking.”

“Oh,” I say as my face heats up. That gives him yet another reason to smile at me. And now I know. He’s watching my reactions very carefully and trying to make me react as he does it. “Well, I know the designer who made this coat. She’s a native up in Alaska and only uses wild-caught foxes that she traps for her sustainability lifestyle.”

He smiles even wider, and then a chuckle erupts. “I’d have expected nothing less from you, Sasha. So thank you for clearing that up.”

The way he says my name—or should I say, the way he makes me feel when he says my name—catches me off guard once again. It’s not my face that heats up this time, but my whole body. I need to put a stop to this shameless flirting he’s doing so I hold up a hand to his chest and push him backwards. He takes the hint and steps back. “Look, I need to clear something up before we go out tonight. That kiss on the stairs? That was not appropriate.”