The first time I met Jax Blackwood things went a little
sideways.
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.
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