Free JAX (The Beckett Boys, Book Two) by Olivia Chase Page A

finally say. “But sex doesn’t have to be something crazy or serious. It can just be fun. Enjoyed for the sake of itself.”
    She sighs. “For some people, I’m sure. I just don’t know if I can do that. How is it you can?”
    It’s a fair question, asked without judgment, but something about it sets me on edge. Maybe because it reminds me that she and I are vastly different in how we feel, how we approach things. And like it or not, I’m growing attached to her. Far more than I should be.
    I keep my voice even. “I can because I’ve lived with what happens when you let yourself be…too attached to someone. I was three when my mom left us. And while I don’t remember well how my dad was before that, I do know it impacted him after. He never dated anyone else or let another woman come into his life.”
    Her eyes turn sad. “I’m sorry.” She strokes my upper arm and shifts until her knee is between my legs. I’m reminded that we’re both naked, lying curled on her small bed, and I’m sharing shit from my past that I never talk about with anyone. “I can’t imagine what that was like. I think it would make me scared, too.”
    The way she’s looking at me, I feel like she can see deep inside me, and I fight the urge to squirm. I’m not used to pillow talk like this. I’m used to fucking a girl hard, giving her a smooth, easy kiss on the mouth, then sliding my way out of her bed, out of her life. No complications, no fuss.
    Not curling up beside her, wanting to know more about her. Wanting to discover why she is the way she is. And even more, wanting to reveal things about myself that I never show anyone.
    What is it about Brooklyn that draws this out of me? I don’t know, but it kinda scares me. This isn’t who I am.
    “We made it work,” I finally say in a flippant tone. “My dad was better off anyway. We didn’t need someone like her around. He was good enough for two parents.” My heart gives a painful little squeeze when I really think about my dad. Memories I don’t like to think about come rushing to the surface. How there would be nights I’d wake up at two or three in the morning, and I’d walk into the living room and see him staring blindly at the TV, no expression on his face.
    Or even worse, the nights I’d hear him softly crying in bed.
    My dad missed her. Despite how she abandoned all of us, without a word, he still ached for her.
    Fuck that. I’m never going to let a woman break me that way.
    Then Brooklyn’s hand comes up and strokes my cheek, and I realize that every moment I spend with her, I become a little less myself. I’m losing the things that make me fun, make me the guy I’m used to being.
    She’s changing me.
    The thought makes my lungs squeeze tight. But I can’t just stop. I want her too badly. I’ve had a taste of her and I need more.
    I want to make her come again.
    I want to make her smile again.
    She’s slipping into my veins, pumping through my bloodstream, giving me life like oxygen. Brooklyn is unlike anyone I’ve ever known.
    “You okay? You’re awfully quiet. That’s not like you.” I hear the teasing tone in her voice, but underneath there’s a lot of shyness. She’s not feeling like herself, either. She’s let me go further than anyone else has.
    She’s got just as much to risk as I do.
    I try to let go of my thoughts and give her a broad smile. “I’m fine, darling. Just enjoying the moment. Being naked is one of my favorite things.”
    Brooklyn laughs, and I see the tension ease up in her body language, on her face. “I could have guessed that. Something about you strikes me as that kind of person.”
    My grin is effortless, and I stroke her bare hip, enjoying the feel of her silky flesh. Trying to not let myself get paranoid that I’m feeling far more for her than I should.
    For now, I’m just going to relax and enjoy this.
    So we lie in bed and just talk for a while, and I don’t try to force anything else sexual to happen. I’m