Page 36 of Jazz

“Fuck it,” I muttered.

My fingers tensed, digging into the padding on the shoulders of her bike jacket. Her back hit the wall, my chest crushed into hers, and I crashed my mouth onto her lips. Rough. Hard. Like I could silence every doubt in my head if I just pressed hard enough. Her words stopped. She drew in a breath. And now I was gone. Heat tore through me, raw, brutal, like fire racing under my skin. She was all fight one second, rigid and bristling, fists curled against me, then her lips gave, softening, parting just enough to let me in.

I’d only meant to silence her. To shock her into shutting the fuck up. But now? Fuck. The taste of her. Sweet, sharp, alive. My pulse thundered in my ears, louder than her muffled gasp, louder than anything else in the room. Louder than the footsteps down the corridor and the eager voices. And now I wasn’t thinking about the club, or Grim, or what would happen ifany of my brothers saw this. I was thinking about the heat of her mouth, the way she tasted, something wild I couldn’t name but wanted more of.

I kissed her like I’d wanted to from the first moment she’d spat venom at me. My tongue brushed hers, tentatively at first, then demanding. She stiffened, fists pressing against me, and I thought she’d bite. Scratch. Spit. But she didn’t. She gave. Just a fraction. Just enough to let me in. Her mouth answered back, sparking that wild rhythm, rough and desperate, until every inch of me was strung tight.

The blindfold cut me off from her eyes, and maybe that was worse. I couldn’t see her, couldn’t read what was behind those lashes. It made me greedy. Made me search harder. Press harder. Twisting my fingers in her hair, sliding my thumb along the edge of her jaw. She felt so fucking small under me, even though she wasn’t. But every ounce of her defiance pushed back, her body refusing to surrender even as her lips tangled with mine.

Christ, it was like stepping off a ledge, sparking something I hadn’t felt in years. Raw. Alive. Uncontrollable. My blood roared, every nerve blazing. I angled my mouth deeper, greedier, hands tangling in her hair, thumb stroking her cheek like I could map her face in the dark.

I should’ve stopped. Should’ve shoved myself back before I fell headfirst into something I couldn’t crawl out of. But her lips held me captive, every brush of that tongue. Not weak. Not passive. She kissed me with fire, her mouth fighting mine, matching me beat for beat until I wasn’t sure if we were battling or devouring each other.

Her body pressed into me, heat searing through her leather and my denim, and I felt it, that dangerous shift insideme. Not lust. Not hunger. Something worse. Something that twisted low in my gut, tightening the muscles in my chest.

Gentle? Fuck, I went gentle. My lips slowed, dragging over hers, softer now, savouring her. Like I’d forgotten who the fuck I was. Like I hadn’t spent half my life breaking people instead of kissing them.

I had to stop.

I tore my mouth from hers like I’d been burned, breath ragged, forehead nearly touching hers. Cold air slammed between us. Shocking. Cruel. Her lips were parted, chest heaving, and for one insane second, I almost leaned back in. Almost lost myself all over again.

But I didn’t. I stepped back, fists clenched, swallowing down the ache in my chest. Because if I didn’t stop now, I never would.

And outside that door, the voices grew stronger.

I pressed my finger against her lips.

“Jazz. There’s people outside. The Rats. My brothers. I need you to be quiet right now. I need to think.”

And for once, she did as I fucking asked her. She said nothing. She stood still. I should fucking kiss her more often.

Their voices grew louder. Urgency. They were in the room. And that room was empty. The ropes cut, and no prisoner. No me. I needed a plan. And quickly.

“Do you trust me?” I whispered.

“You know I fucking don’t.”

I shouldn’t have expected anything less.

“Well, then can you just pretend to? For five minutes?”

“Fine.”

That was the best I was gonna fucking get.

“Scream.”

“What?”

“Scream.”

“No.”

For fuck’s sake.

“Fine,” I growled.

I grabbed her wrist. She yanked her arm backwards, but my grip was too strong. I drove my nails into the wounds, pressing hard.