“I told you that she fought dirty.”
“So you haven’t?”
“No. She’s not my type and I’m definitely not hers. You’re much more her style.”
“Oh.” I blush remembering the fire in her eyes when I was straddling her earlier.
“Friday night shouldn’t have happened though, Luce. I’m sorry,” he whispers, taking a step closer to me until his breath dusts my cheek.
“Do you regret it, Jax?” I blink at him.
He brushes the hair back from my face. “Yes.”
The word is like a sliver of ice slicing through my heart. I step back from him, pulling out of his embrace. “Oh.”
“Luce.”
“We’d better get going,” I say, tossing my hair over my shoulder as I walk around the truck to the passenger side. Jackson Decker can go to hell.