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“I loved it. It was almost perfect.” I smile. “But, as they say, there really is no place like home.”
He harrumphs and stalks off, no doubt going somewhere to sulk but I don’t have to go massage his ego, and I’m not sorry for being honest with him either. With five guys to juggle and Phoenix, I need some time to myself every once in a while and the first night back in my own bed is definitely one of those times.
Walking into the kitchen, I discover Ace has wasted no time getting to work. He must have missed this place like I missed my duvet.
“What are you making?” I ask, expecting him to say cookies. He moaned the whole time we were away that the hotel biscuits were horrible. I just missed proper chocolate.
“Dinner.”
“Oh. I thought we’d get a takeaway.”
He frowns.
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Hotel food. Two weeks.” He pulls a face.
“Yeah? It was amazing. But I’m craving a proper curry. Aren’t you?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Craving home food. Self cook.”
“I guess I could be persuaded to break with tradition and have a home cooked meal if I have to,” I say, eyes twinkling to show I’m teasing. “Do you need any help?”
“No.”
“Okay. I’ll just grab a pop and go start the laundry then.”
Ace grunts in response, already turning back to his prep work. I watch him for a moment, admiring the way his muscles ripple as he works, before my gaze falls on the knife. He wields it like an expert chef and a lethal assassin. The realisation makes a tingling start between my thighs and for a second I’m tempted to tell one of the guys they can join me tonight after all. I wonder if Ace plays with blades the same way Baxter does...
It’s fast becoming an addiction for me.
I shake my head, quickly grab my drink and then make my way out of the kitchen and downstairs. At the bottom of the steps I hear quiet classical music playing in the background and the sound of someone using the punch bag in the gym on my right. Baxter. I smile but don’t disturb him, and turn to the laundry room on the left instead.
“Oh!” I cry when I bang into someone, and I’ve got cold Coke spilling all down my front. “Shit! What are you doing down here?”
“Laundry?” Jax raises a brow at me like I’m crazy for asking.
“That’s what I’m here to do.”
“I can see that.” He stares pointedly at my drink-stained chest. “Allow me to help.”
Before I can respond, Jax takes the half empty glass from my hand and puts it on top of the side counter, then he carefully peels my no longer white T-shirt over my head, revealing my red lace bra underneath.
“That looks wet too.” He smirks, reaches round to unclasp the back, then slides the straps down my arms and discards it on top of the ruined shirt.
It’s not cold in the small laundry room at all, but my nipples harden as soon as they make contact with the air. As Jax reaches out to flick one, I’m reminded of Baxter and his piercing. I wonder what it would feel like, if I should get it done.
“I think you spilled some on your jeans,” Jax says thickly. I look down and frown. My jeans are dry. Jax grabs the glass and quickly pours the remainder of the cold liquid over me. Normally I’d lament the waste of good Coke but under Jax’s heated gaze I can’t bring myself to care.
I swallow and flick the top button open.
“Better get you out of these wet things too.” Jax slips his fingers under the waistband of my jeans while I lower the zip. As soon as I’m done he’s pulling the material down my legs, along with my thong, and when he reaches my ankles I step out.
If I thought his stare was heated when he removed my top, it’s nothing compared to how it blazes as he looks at me now. Goosebumps erupt all along my flesh wherever his gaze burns me.
“You have too many clothes on,” I tell him.
“I’m not the one who got dirty,” he teases.
