Page 26 of The Vigilante's Lover

“You like this?” he asks, and applies more pressure.

“Yes,” I breathe. I’m on fire again, my body hot and throbbing.

“Untie it and you’ll get a lot more,” he says.

I clasp my hands together and stretch my finger. Yes, I can get it to the first knot. I poke into the knot like I’m holding a marlinspike tool to separate the strands. Any knot that can be tied can be undone. It’s just a reverse puzzle.

My finger works inside.

“Very nice,” Jax says.

I pause, waiting for the rewarding strike. This one has bite, aimed more precisely. I cry out, then drift into a long moan when his hand cools the burn. This time his thumb slides down, gently brushing against the swollen bud.

I lurch up again, pressing into his hand. I want so much more. I want everything.

But Jax retreats, slapping the end of the rope casually against his palm.

I work harder on the knot, releasing the first one. My arms drop about an inch, and I can reach the second far more easily.

“Mmmm,” Jax says. “Nicely done.” He drops the rope. This time he spreads my knees and slides both hands up my thighs. His thumbs press into me, splaying me so wide I feel a cool rush of air against the newly exposed folds.

I want more, to work this so fast that he doesn’t stop, that there is no pause. I slip my finger into the second knot and work it free. Just two more.

He doesn’t release me, but keeps working, one thumb circling the sensitive bud, and the other slipping along the wet spaces that welcome him greedily.

Now that I have room to work, the last two knots are easy. I pull them apart, and my arms fall away from the pole.

“Escaping bonds is a mind game,” Jax says. “Work with the knots, not against them.”

I can’t listen to anything. His fingers are making magic down below. I clutch his shoulders now that I’m free, and feel along his biceps. I haven’t touched anyone like this. I want to. I want to explore all of him.

Jax leans over me, bracing on one arm. His finger slips a little more deeply inside. I arch up and into him.

Sparks are bursting through me. My sensations are heightened, the smell of hay, the soft fuzz of the shawl, Jax’s breathing near my ear. He moves closer and his lips lock onto my breast, sucking lightly.

A buzz starts to build down low. I’ve never felt anything so intense. My need to be filled, to release the pressure, is maddening, unrelenting.

Jax’s movements increase in speed, delving more deeply. But something makes him stop suddenly and lift his head, looking at me. I don’t know what has happened, why he quit. My chest heaves.

He watches me quietly, concern on his brow, then he seems to shake it off. His fingers move back to the nub, and I close my eyes and the friction starts to reach something, to create some sort of synergy.

I relax into the hay and let it come over me, ripples like muscle contractions taking over my body in places I didn’t know existed.

Then suddenly the pleasure blasts out like a shock wave. I can’t stop myself from crying out, from saying Jax’s name. It’s too intense, too crazy, overwhelming and beautiful and wild.

I shudder around his hand. I can’t breathe, can’t talk, can’t think as I start to come down. This is what people talk about. This is why people do crazy stuff. This.

I want more. So much more. I want it again and again. I clutch at Jax. “What did you just do?” I ask.

His face looks puzzled. “This is new to you, isn’t it?”

I don’t want to answer. I don’t want him to know how inexperienced I am.

“I felt the resistance,” he says.

This is not the sexy talk I expected. It’s like an interrogation. I let go of him.

“Did you do the restructure surgery?” he says. “Were you in the program once?”

I bite back my disappointment even as my body still hums against his hand. I don’t know what he’s talking about. What restructure? What program?

Then it hits me. The hymen surgery. Fake virginity. Apparently it’s something certain types of operatives do.

“I didn’t even know people did that until you told me about it,” I say. I don’t know what he’s getting at, why he stopped. Doesn’t he want to do the rest? I sink into the hay. This feels over already. I want to weep.

Then I get it. He doesn’t want to be with a virgin. Or to destroy an expensive surgery.

He withdraws his hand. I grab at it, stopping him from pulling away. “It’s okay,” I say quickly. “I don’t mind doing this. With you.”

His Adam’s apple bobs. He looks genuinely concerned, something new. “You’ve never done any training, then,” he says.

“Do they take your virginity during it?” I ask, half sitting up. Surely not!

“Depends,” he says.

“What?”

“Most girls come in after college. It’s long gone.”

I feel really naked now, too exposed for this conversation. I let go of him and cross my arms over my chest. “Well, mine isn’t.”

“I realize that.”

“Is it a problem?”

The ground crunches outside and Jax leaps to his feet. Before I can even figure out what he’s doing, he’s snatched an axe from the wall and is crouching next to the door.

Which is opening.

And I’m naked and sprawled out in the hay.

I grab the shawl and drag it around me. Jax’s shirt is near my feet so I pick that up too.

The door only opens an inch. A friendly voice says, “You got a woman in there, don’t ya?”

Jax visibly relaxes, although he doesn’t set down the axe.

“Who’s with you?” he asks.

“Just Colette.” The door opens wider and a broad dark-skinned man in a blue T-shirt and jeans appears in the gap.

Now the axe comes down. “How the hell did you find me?” Jax asks.

“We headed toward the silo the minute you stupidly set foot in it,” Sam answers. “Then about an hour ago you powered down. Figured you’d only do that in a jam.”

“You had it transmit a signal, I assume,” Jax says.

“Indeedy.” He looks around the barn until he spots me. “Yup, there’s the woman.” He calls out behind him, “I owe you a cheeseburger, Colette!”

“Vegetarian!” a voice calls back with an accent like women in perfume commercials, exotic, with an unexpected lilt. French, I guess.

“Jax, my man, you’ve lost your shirt!” He extends a hand.

Jax sets the axe on the ground and shakes the hand firmly. “Gave it to the lady,” he says and nods his head at me.

I clutch the shawl around me, grateful that it is so large, and try to give a little wave with my fingers.

“I’m Sam,” he says. He walks forward as if to shake hands, then realizes my situation, holding tight to the shawl. “Jax is terrible with introductions.”

“Mia,” I say.

His gaze falls to the Phase One Trainee uniform shoes on the ground.

“You snagged a Phase One?” he asks Jax and lets out a whistle. “Good thing their ID transmitters are short range.”

“Long story,” Jax says. “Is Colette coming? We have to find out who killed Klaus.”

“We wanted to talk to you about that. I’ll fetch her first.” Sam heads back out into the sunlight.

When he’s gone, Jax turns to me. “I guess you’ll want your clothes now.”

His reflexes are good, so he manages to dodge the clod of dirt I fling at his face.