In my defense, I didn’t know he was Jax Blackwood—who expects a legendary rock star to be shopping for groceries? More importantly, a blizzard was coming and he was about to grab the last carton of mint-chocolate chip.
Still, I might have walked away, but then he smugly dared me to try and take the coveted ice cream. So I kissed him. And distracted that mint-chip right out of his hands.
Okay, it was a dirty move, but desperate times and all that. Besides, I never expected he’d be my new neighbor.
An annoying neighbor who takes great pleasure in reminding me that I owe him ice cream but would happily accept more kisses as payment. An irresistible neighbor who keeps me up while playing guitar naked–spectacularly naked–in his living room.
Clearly, avoidance is key. Except nothing about Jax is easy to ignore—not the way he makes me laugh, or that his particular brand of darkness matches mine, or how one look from him melts me faster than butter under a hot sun.
Neither of us believes in love or forever. Yet we’re quickly becoming each other’s addiction. But we could be more. We could be everything.
The
air between us shifts. I’m filled with a strange giddiness, wanting to laugh
for the fun of it, but I’m also too warm, my limbs oddly heavy as if simple
movements might be too much for me.
His
tone turns soft and cajoling, teasing the truth out of me. “Are you going to
tell me what you do?” When I say nothing, the corners of his eyes crinkle. “I
see. You’re going to torture me a bit.”
The
warm, fuzzy feeling grows as I shrug. “Torture feels apropos in this scenario.”
He
hums again, taking another step toward me. “What makes you think I won’t like
being tortured by you?”
The
heat of his body and the scent of his skin makes my head light and my pulse
pound. How did it get to this point where the highlight of my day is flirting
with Jax Blackwood? Despite the thrill, I know I’m in over my head. I haven’t
gone out on a date in months because I form attachments, I get emotional, and
then I hurt when they inevitably leave. And this man will leave. He is as
bright and fleeting as a camera flash. I’ll be left with the image of him seared
into my memory and nothing more.
I
tell myself all of this, the voice in my head as stern as possible. But it
doesn’t make me back away. It doesn’t stop my body from somehow straining
toward his without even moving. Because it might be stupid of me, but I want to
feel something that isn’t planned. Something, for however briefly, that’s real.
He’s
too attuned to me not to notice. John’s lids lower as his attention slides down
my body before easing back up to my face. Slowly, he rests his forearm on the
wall beside my head. “Tell me, Stella,” he murmurs.
“No,”
I whisper back, flirting, even though I shouldn’t.
His
biceps bunch as he leans in, a smile dancing on his lips. “Tell.”
My
breasts graze his chest, and I feel it in my toes.
“You’re
crowding me.” I hate how breathy I sound.
“Can’t
help it.” His voice is a rumble, the heat of his breath playing over my skin.
He ducks his head, drawing close until our lips nearly brush, and when he
speaks again, his tone is almost conversational, except for the husky quality
that touches deep within my core. “You smell like strawberries. Fucking
delicious.”
My
lids flutter, and I swallow hard. “Ordinarily, I’d call you out on that cliché
but since I’ve been eating strawberries, you aren’t exactly wrong.”
His
chuckle is slow and easy, as he eases back and his gaze slowly travels over my
face. “Were they sweet, Stella Button?”
He’s
looking at my mouth like he might try to find out. My lips tremble in response,
and John tracks the movement, his breathing getting deeper, faster. “You have
two freckles on your lips. One on the top lip and one on the bottom corner.”
Those
damn freckles. They were the bane of my adolescence. I hid them with lipstick
and silently cursed whenever someone mentioned them.
Freckles
don’t have any feelings, but I swear it’s as if he’s touching them.
“You’re
just noticing this?” I try to make it sound like a joke, but it comes out weak
and thready.
His
own lips quirk. “Oh, I noticed. It’s distracting as hell. They’re like two
little dots of butter toffee. Makes me want to lick them, get a taste.”
Oh,
God. Lick them, please. I can almost feel it. I want to feel it.
No. Bad Stella. Behave.
John’s
lips part a fraction like he just might take that taste.
“Back
off,” I whisper. And yet somehow my traitorous hands find their way to his
sides, running over the waistband of his jeans, holding him there.
John
makes a sound deep in his throat and tilts his hips, pressing them against
mine. A distinctly thick bulge nudges my belly. Both of us lose a breath, and
then he’s closer, his cheek touching my temple. “You’ll have to let me go
first.”
My
thumbs slide under the edge of his shirt and find smooth, taut skin. A tremor
goes through his body. I try to think, search for what the hell we’ve been
talking about.
His
lips brush the crest of my cheek as he murmurs against my skin. “Tell me what
you do, Stella. You know you want to.”
My
smile feels illicit. Somehow the action is directly tied to all my happy parts,
making them draw hot and tight. “I don’t think I do.”
Another
hum. “Liar. You’re dying to.”
4 Stars
John “Jax” Blackwood, the enigmatic lead singer of Kill John finally gets his story. And I loved it. This book had a great message about how people may look like they have the perfect life on the outside, but on the inside, people are dealing with issues that no one can imagine.
Stella had a rough go in the beginning of life. And things start to look up when she is asked to house/cat sit. She just never imagined her next door neighbor is the sexy stranger, who she literally ran into at the grocery store and might of kissed on a whim! Needless does she know who John really is.
These two have a very flirtatious and humorous "friendship"-relationship. Getting involved with each
This series is filled with sexy rock stars who will swoon you with sexy humor and instantly turn you into a a book groupie!
Kristen Callihan is an author because there is
nothing else she’d rather be. She is a three-time RITA nominee and winner of
two RT Reviewer’s Choice awards. Her novels have garnered starred reviews from
Publisher’s Weekly and the Library Journal, as well as being awarded top picks
by many reviewers. Her debut book FIRELIGHT received RT Magazine’s Seal of
Excellence, was named a best book of the year by Library Journal, best book of
Spring 2012 by Publisher’s Weekly, and was named the best romance book of 2012
by ALA RUSA. When she is not writing, she is reading.
