Free Aftershock by Sylvia Day

stared down at me for a long minute, his body tense and the air between us strained. “What you’re not seeing is that he and I have a lot more in common than just our faces.”
    “So, let’s talk about it.”
    “I don’t want to talk about it.”
    “You just want to fight.”
    He reached up and rubbed the back of his neck, his biceps stretching the sleeve of his T-shirt. He growled. “What I want is to fuck you bowlegged.”
    “Jax.” I laughed, I couldn’t help it. His frustration was palpable and his response to it was so typically... male . “You’re lucky I grew up with three brothers, you know. I’m used to chest thumping.”
    “And driving me insane.”
    “You’re doing that all by yourself, what with your self-confessed multiple personality disorder.” I touched a finger to my jaw. “Wait. I get it. You’re a twin. There’s two of you!”
    Closing his eyes, he rubbed his temples with his fingertips. “Jesus.”
    “If I sleep with both of you, does that count as cheating?”
    His hands dropped and he looked at me. “Are you in love with both of them?”
    I reached out and touched his chest. “I’m in love with you.”
    With a sigh, Jax hugged me and pressed his lips to my shoulder. “Image is everything in politics. Sometimes, I’m asked to help others with theirs. That’s why I know a few stylists.”
    I pushed my hands up beneath his shirt to touch his bare skin. His soft shiver and low moan sent my heartbeat skipping. “Good to know.”
    I wanted to know more, but for the first time in our relationship we had time to let things grow and develop. I gave myself the right to enjoy that.
    * * *
    There were a handful of things in life that made me catch my breath in wonder—Jax in a tuxedo topped the list.
    I watched him cross the ballroom with a champagne flute in each hand, his stride fiercely elegant and unmistakably sexual. The D.C. hotel was filled with men and women who were political and financial scions wielding tremendous power. Enormous crystal chandeliers cast light that glittered off priceless jewels and glossy, perfectly coiffed locks. Crystal glasses clinked against each other, and the hum of conversation sounded like a swarm of bees.
    In the midst of it all, Jackson Rutledge stood out from the crowd.
    His hair was nearly as dark as his tuxedo, his skin lightly tanned, his eyes framed by arrogantly slashed brows. The beautifully tailored tux hugged his broad shoulders and emphasized the length of his legs.
    Discreetly, I licked my lips. Mine .
    Jax would’ve caught my eye no matter what, but it was the look in his eyes that set my heart racing.
    “I still love that dress,” he said, handing me a flute and bending to kiss my shoulder.
    My lips curved against the mouth of the glass. The muted gold gown had been the first one I’d tried on and he’d voted for it on sight, shaking his head at the three dresses I had tried on after it. A smooth column of lined silk poured down my body, held in place by thin beaded straps at my shoulders and back. I’d been wary of the color at first, but the gown did a splendid job of hinting at my curves, instead of hugging them.
    “Thank you.”
    He turned to face the room, his hand coming to rest on my hip in a blatantly possessive display of ownership. “In a couple of hours we can fly back to New York. Or we can grab a room here in the hotel.”
    “Or join the mile-high club. After all, what’s the point of taking a private jet if we don’t get naughty in it?”
    His fingers flexed into my flesh. “And once again, I have an erection in public. Thank you very much.”
    I laughed and leaned into him. “What do you need to do here?”
    “Not sure.” He took a drink. “Once Parker shows up, I’ll have an idea.”
    “He relies on you a lot, doesn’t he?”
    Jax shrugged, but I saw the tightness around his mouth again. It was soon echoed by a corresponding tautness to his big frame, and when I followed his gaze, I saw why. Parker