Page 48

chapter

thirty-four

She knew it was probably a mistake, but she no longer cared.

She kissed him softly at first, tentatively, but when Jax’s hands came up to frame her face, she plunged her tongue into his mouth, pouring four years of fear and loneliness and desperate hope into the connection between them.

He groaned deep in his throat and took control, slanting his mouth across hers with a hunger that made her shiver.

God, she wanted this. Had dreamed about it too many times since meeting him, waking up so hot and aching that her vibrator did nothing to take the edge off.

Nessie pulled back just enough to look at him, her breath coming in short gasps. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and she could see the war playing out across his expression—want battling with restraint.

“Nessie,” he whispered, and her name on his lips sounded like a prayer.

She kissed him again and straddled his lap. His cock lengthened behind his fly as she ground her hips teasingly against him.

“Are you sure?” he murmured.

She pulled back to look at him, this man who’d helped her find her son, who’d taught Oliver about being the bigger person, who’d shown her what gentleness looked like even when his own demons were clawing at his throat.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

The words seemed to unlock something in him.

His mouth crashed against hers with a hunger that matched her own, and she could taste the desperation on his tongue, the years of isolation and self-imposed exile.

He groaned into her mouth, and the sound sent liquid fire racing through her veins.

She’d never felt power like this—the ability to make a man like Jax Thorne come undone with just the press of her lips and the roll of her hips.

They needed to get naked.

Right.

Now.

She pushed to her feet and took him by the hand, leading him down the short hall to her bedroom. Echo lifted her head from where she’d been lying on the rug, watching them with those mismatched eyes.

“Stay,” Jax told the dog gently, and she settled back down with a contented sigh.

Her room was small and simple—a queen bed with a faded quilt, a dresser that had seen better days, a single window that looked out over the alley.

Nothing fancy, but it was hers.

When she turned to face Jax, he was hovering in the doorway, as if afraid to cross the threshold, and the vulnerability in his expression cracked her heart open like an egg.

“It was a traumatic night,” he said quietly. “We don’t have to?—”

She silenced him with a kiss and yanked him into the room.

“Yes, it was a traumatic night.” She stepped back and pulled her shirt over her head, letting it fall to the floor. “But that has nothing to do with this.” She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra, letting it join her shirt on the floor.

Jax’s eyes went wide, his gaze moving over her like he was trying to memorize every inch of exposed skin.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, and his reverence made her feel like she was glowing from the inside out.

No one had ever looked at her like that before.

She stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from his body, could smell the lingering scent of rain and soap on his skin. “Touch me.”

His hands came up slowly, as if he was afraid she might disappear if he moved too fast. When his palms finally cupped her breasts, she gasped at the contact.

His hands were warm and calloused, work-roughened, but so gentle as they skimmed over her skin.

Her nipples hardened under his touch, and when he brushed his thumbs across them, her knees nearly buckled.

“Your turn,” she whispered and reached for his shirt, but he beat her to it, throwing it off in a blink, revealing the lean muscle of his chest and map of scars.

She traced one raised line on his shoulder with her fingertip, then pressed her lips to the scar, tasting salt and skin.

His breath caught and then trembled out of him.

When she looked up, his eyes were dark with want and something that looked like wonder.

“Shut the door,” she murmured.

He fumbled behind him until he found the doorknob. It shut too loudly, and they both froze, their eyes locked.

Oh, God, please don’t let Oliver wake up.

Several seconds passed, and there was no sound from the other room. She let out her breath in a rush. “We’re okay. He’s still sleeping. We’d hear him by now if he weren’t.”

“Good,” he breathed, and then his mouth and hands were on her again, urgent and desperate as he backed her toward the bed.

When the backs of her knees hit the frame, she let herself fall, pulling him down with her. The weight of his body pressing her into the mattress felt like coming home, like finding a safe harbor after years of drifting.

“Nessie,” he breathed against her throat. “I need you to know... It’s been a long time for me. A really long time.”

She pulled back to look at him, and hated the shame she saw in his eyes. “For me, too. Alek was my first and only.”

A fierce, angry protectiveness chased away the shame.

“Don’t say that bastard’s name. Erase him from your mind, and I’ll erase the memory of him from your body.

He doesn’t matter anymore because I care about you more than he ever did.

” His voice broke on the words, and he dropped his forehead to hers.

“God, Nessie, I care about you so fucking much it scares me.”

He kissed her then, slow and deep, and she could taste the promise in it.

This wasn’t just about desire, though God knew she wanted him with an intensity that made her shake.

This was about claiming something for herself, about choosing to be touched by hands that would never hurt her, about learning what her body could feel when fear wasn’t part of the equation.

When his mouth left hers to trail hot kisses down her throat, she arched beneath him, a sound escaping her lips that she didn’t recognize as her own.

She hadn’t known words could burn on her skin until Jax whispered against her jaw, “Do you remember how it feels to come for me, sweetness?”

“Yes.” Her hands fisted in his hair, pulling him closer, needing everything he was offering her.

“I’ll make you do it again, but I want to taste you first.” His tongue dipped into the hollow at the base of her throat, and she gasped, her nails digging into his shoulders. “Every fucking inch of you will know my tongue.”

Her head fell back against the pillow. “God, yes, please.”

She’d never been worshipped like this. Every kiss, every scrape of his teeth, every brush of his tongue felt like reclamation. Her body was hers again, not something to be controlled or owned, but something to be celebrated.

When his mouth moved lower, trailing fire down her stomach, she thought she might lose her mind.

He undid her jeans with a rough, one-handed jerk, then slid his hand inside, his fingers finding her soaked entrance.

The first touch made her gasp, the second had her sinking her teeth into his shoulder.

He worked her clit in tight, perfect circles, while his mouth closed over her breast and his other hand tangled in her hair like he was drowning and she was the only thing keeping him afloat.

She should have been scared. Should have been remembering the way violence used to masquerade as love.

But Jax was nothing like Alek. Every touch was a question.

Is this okay? Do you want this? Can I have more?

There was a gentleness in his roughness.

He held her like she might break, while he also desperately wanted her to fly apart.

“Christ, sweetness, this pussy is weeping for me,” he groaned, flicking his tongue against her nipple. “So hot, so soft, so ready to take my cock.”

She was. She was burning from the inside out, every nerve ending alive with need. “Yes, I want your cock.”

“Not yet.” He pressed a finger into her, and she arched off the bed at the jolt of pleasure.

“You like that?” he asked, voice so low it vibrated through her stomach.

“More,” she whispered, clapping her thighs tight around his hand.

“You’re a greedy little thing, aren’t you?

Trying to suck my finger in and hold it.

” He pumped it slow and deep with each word, curling it until she cried out.

He added another finger, and another, stretching her until she trembled and her legs fell open again.

The heel of his palm pressed against her clit with every thrust of his hand, and she could feel herself climbing toward a peak that felt like it might shatter her completely.

She tugged at his jeans, frantic. “Off. Now.”

“No, greedy girl.” He slid his hand out of her pants and lifted his glistening fingers to his mouth. He made a low humming sound as he licked them clean and met her gaze. “I still have more of you to taste.”

The promise made her whole body clench with anticipation. “Then taste me.”

His eyes went dark, and he kissed her hard once before pulling back to strip off her jeans. The cool air hit her overheated skin, but she didn’t have time to feel exposed because Jax was staring at her like she was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Christ, Nessie,” he breathed, his hands skimming up her thighs, leaving trails of fire in their wake. “Look at you. So fucking sexy.”

She’d never considered herself sexy. She had stretch marks and a mom pouch she couldn’t get rid of, no matter how many sit-ups she did. But with the way Jax was admiring her now, she felt like a goddess.

He settled between her legs, and his mouth found her inner thigh, nipping lightly. He was taking his time, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her skin, building the tension until she swore she would die before he got to his prize.

“Jax, please?—”

“I know, sweetness. I’ve got you.”