Afterburn

desperation in his voice swayed me, made me long to give in. Being wanted by Jax was one of the major highs in my life.
    “Jackson.”
    We both stiffened at the sound of Parker Rutledge’s voice in the living room.
    “I know you’re here,” he called out. “We need to talk, son.”
    Jax cursed. His hand slid into the open lapels of his shirt and cupped my breast possessively, his grip tightening until my feet left the floor.
    “Give me a minute,” he yelled before stepping back and kicking the door closed.
    I thought he’d let me go, but he turned me instead and kissed me breathless. One hand clenched in my hair, the other gripped my buttock.
    When he released me abruptly, I stumbled, my legs weakened by the ferocious passion in his kiss.
    He walked to the en suite bathroom and grabbed a black silk robe, belting it angrily. “Stay here.”
    “Don’t you want me to say hi?” I asked, my voice tight.
    Jax didn’t look at me when he said, “I’m not giving him the satisfaction.”
    The door shut with a bit too much force behind him and then I heard the sound of him talking. His tone was far from welcoming and I scrambled to get dressed. I wasn’t going to hide in his bedroom like a naughty teenager.
    By the time I’d finished, I couldn’t hear the low drone of conversation anymore. And when I opened the bedroom door, silence greeted me.
    I padded out in search of my heels and once I had them on, I felt better prepared to deal with Parker...despite wishing my hair was tied back.
    While I waited for Jax and his father to make an appearance, I wandered around the living room, examining it closely for signs of the lover I thought I knew. What I found were only a handful of framed photos, most of them vintage snapshots of a striking blonde whom I assumed was Jackson’s mother.
    The photos ranged from fresh-faced black-and-whites to more recent ones in color, and the transformation the pictures documented was startling. Youthful softness had hardened over time, had been polished into a glittering facade, then faded. The upturn of pretty lips gradually migrated downward. One candid shot caught her unawares and staring out a window. The look on her beautiful face conveyed a sense of loneliness.
    I picked it up, looking at it more closely, and noted another framed picture lying facedown behind it. I slid it forward, then lifted it, stilling when I discovered a photo of Jax and me.
    It was a shot Vincent had captured with his cell phone and forwarded to me. He’d taken it during that first and last family dinner with Jax at Rossi’s. Jax sat behind me, supporting me as I leaned back against him. We were laughing, his arms around my waist, my arms draped over his. I’d sent the photo to Jax and made it the wallpaper on my phone until it became too painful to look at.
    I propped the photo back up and returned the picture of his mother to the shelf, my heart racing along with my thoughts.
    Where the hell was Jax?
    The apartment was eerily quiet. I went in search of him, my gaze sliding absently past the front door, then stopping on the small security video monitor mounted in the wall beside it. Jax and his dad stood in the foyer, Jax with his arms crossed over his chest and his father with hands tucked into the pockets of his slacks. As alike as they were in physical appearance, they couldn’t have been dressed more differently, and yet Jax was clearly holding his own.
    I studied the distance between them, the way they stood apart and eyed each other warily. Their family dynamic was alien to me, so far removed from the Rossi warmth that nurtured me.
    The Rutledges were demanding. I didn’t know all the details of Jax’s upbringing but it was clear he’d grown up in a high-pressure environment. He’d made it obvious he didn’t hold a high opinion of Rutledges, including himself, but he had chosen his family over me—he’d made sure Ian was able to sabotage the Mondego deal—after saying I was the one person he gave a shit about.
    Some long-overdue research was in order.
    I took off back down the hall, shameless in my search for answers. I figured he owed me something and I’d snoop for it if I had to.
    Turning into his home office, I paused on the threshold, seeing a room more in keeping with what I’d expected of him. Although the overall look was modern and masculine, the space was warmed by neutral walls and honeyed woods, with accents of red and gold. Bookcases hugged the walls, filled with a