Page 76 of Shadowed Sins: Nitro

"I don't know how to do that."

"Then learn." His voice cracks. "Because I can't keep pretending this is just professional. I can't keep pretending I don't want you so badly it's killing me."

Something in his broken honesty undoes me completely. Before I can stop myself, I'm moving. My hands hit his chest, shoving. He stumbles backward until his legs hit the bed's edge. Falls. I follow him down.

"You want me to stop thinking?" I straddle his hips, hands braced on his chest. His heart hammers against my palm, 140 bpm at least. "You want me to stop calculating?"

His pupils blow wide, hands flying to my waist. "Mira—"

"This is me not thinking." I lean down, my mouth hovering just above his. Close enough to feel his exhale. Taste the desperation.

And then I kiss him.

eighteen

Jax

She's straddling my hips, hands braced on my chest, and every coherent thought just evaporated. Her thighs bracket mine, the heat of her pussy pressed against my already hard cock through our clothes.

"Nineteen days." The words tear out of me, raw and broken. "Nineteen fucking days since that bar—"

"I know." She grinds down deliberately and I see stars. "Been counting too."

I'm still raw from watching her with Remy, but the way she's looking at me now, like she's going to devour me, is scrambling every rational thought.

The scent of her perfume—amber and warm spice with something deeper underneath—wraps around me like a weapon.

"You want me to stop thinking?" Her voice drops to that husky register that makes my spine tingle. "Fine. But I'm doing this my way."

She rolls her hips again, and I swear my vision whites out at the edges.

"Jesus fuck, Mira, if you keep doing that I'm gonna—" My voice cracks like I'm seventeen again. "Right here in my jeans like some fucking teenager. Again."

She laughs, low and dangerous. That sound goes straight to my cock.

"Look at you, golden boy. All that confidence, and you're about to come just from me sitting on you."

"I'm not—fuck it, yes I am." I try to grab her waist, hands shaking. "I came in that garage and I've been hard since."

"Like what?" She leans down, breath hot against my ear, vanilla and musk filling my senses. "Like I've been wet for you every single one of those days? Because I have."

My hips buck involuntarily and she's right—I can feel the wet spot spreading in my boxers. "Fuck. Fucking hell, Mira."

"Such eloquent dirty talk." Her nails scrape down my chest through my shirt, sharp enough to leave marks through the fabric. "No wonder you're still single."

"I had a whole strategy for tonight." My hands are legitimately trembling where they touch her thighs. "Planned it for hours. Then you sat on me and my brain just... stopped."

She sits back, still grinding in those slow circles that are destroying me, and starts working at my belt. The metallic clink echoes in the room.

"Poor baby. Is this too much for you?"

"Depends." I watch her fingers work, trying to focus. "Are you going to keep moving like that? Because my self-control has about ten seconds left."

Her fingers make quick work of my belt, but she tugs my jeans down my legs with maddening slowness.

"Then stop talking." Her voice drops lower, more intimate. "I like watching you lose control."

The words hit like a shot of whiskey, straight to my bloodstream.She likes this? Likes watching me fall apart?