Page 43 of The Vigilante's Lover

Jax has completely stolen my breath.

I clutch at his shirt, unbuttoned at the throat. His lips roam over mine. The stubble on his jaw is rough against my skin.

His hands are on my waist, holding me against him. He smells of the outdoors, pine trees and cut wood.

His chest is solid. He bends down to me, his mouth hot and demanding. I’m spinning, the ground shifting beneath my feet. I sway against him and his arms wrap around my body. His belt buckle presses against my belly, and below that, I feel him, thick and hard.

We’re alone. In a motel.

And he’s kissing me.

Oh my God.

My breath comes in a great gasp, and Jax pulls away.

His face looms over mine, a lock of hair falling over his forehead.

The room is dark, only a nightlight by the bed providing the faintest glow.

I can’t see his eyes, only the dim planes of his face.

He looks angry. Intense. Like a monster in the dark.

But I’m not afraid.

He tries to pull away, but I snake my arms around him and hold fast.

“I won’t take advantage of your innocence,” he says.

“You’re not,” I tell him.

Now he’s even angrier. “Did Klaus do the job, then?”

I don’t know what he’s asking. “What job?” I ask.

He shakes his head slowly. “How can you be so seductive and so naive at the same time?” His voice cuts me with its anger and coldness.

I let go of him. “I never understand you.” I walk over to the corner of the bed and sit down, feeling defeated and lost. “You pull me close. You push me away.”

My heart still pounds like a frightened rabbit. I touch my lips, hot and swollen. And my cheek, tender from his stubble. I don’t feel adventurous and strong anymore. I’m like a little girl, scolded by a parent.

The bed is elaborate, with a roof and curtains pulled back with a sash. I lie on my side and pull my knees up to my chest. “Take your stupid car,” I say. “Just leave me here. I’ll figure something out.” I can go back to community college. Abandon the house. Let the town have it. I don’t care.

Find some normal boy. Somebody like that grocery sacker, calm and easy. No hooded eyes and spy gadgets and secure silos and jumping into rivers. No stripping me and drinking Old Fashioneds and having women dress me in red lingerie.

No ropes.

Actually, maybe I’ll keep the ropes.

Jax hasn’t moved, or at least I assume he hasn’t. My eyes are squeezed closed and the room is dark anyway. I haven’t heard his footsteps.

“Mia,” he says. His voice is different now. Instead of cold, it’s like the rumble of a race car, low and powerful.

I don’t answer. I can’t manage his crazy moods. “You’re worse than a girl,” I say, not caring anymore if I make him mad. “Changing your mind all the time.”

I don’t hear a sound, but I know he’s moved close. His body gives off heat even though we have no contact.

Every part of my body senses his nearness. It’s like I’m humming from the inside out, vibrating, anticipating. I lie very, very still so I don’t accidentally touch him with my own movement.

The first thing that shifts is my hair. He’s brushing it away from my face, his touch as light as air. My scalp tingles. Then his fingertips caress my cheek.

I hold my breath again. We only connect in this barest of contacts, but somehow, my entire body responds. A swirl of tension starts to form low in my belly.

“Breathe, Mia,” he whispers. His face is much closer than I expected. I can feel his words whisper against my forehead.

Then his lips are there, pressed against my skin. A hand on my shoulder guides me so that I roll onto my back.

“I just want to see you again,” he says.

I hear a click and a light illuminates his face. He’s holding some sort of flat device that is as bright as the moon. He sets it on the table beside the bed. Now one side of us is softly lit, and the other falls to darkness.

I want to ask him if he’s going to tie me up, if that’s what he likes.

But my throat is tight and dry. This isn’t going to stop, I can tell, and a tendril of fear slips through me.

Not at what we’ll do, or if it will hurt.

But that I will be a disappointment to him, and then he will send me away again.

“Do you have the rope?” I ask him. This is one place where I feel confident that I can stand apart from the untold numbers of women he has certainly taken to bed. I glance up at the curtains pulled back on the bed. There is a sash.

His eyebrow lifts and he suppresses a smile a little too late for me to not notice it. “Is that what you like?”

“I don’t know.” I hesitate. “I liked what we did before. In the barn.”

He watches me a moment. “There will be time for that, for ropes.” His fingers pluck at the first button on my pajamas. “Tonight is for discovery.”

The air is cool on my skin as he works his way down, the flannel top falling open as he goes. He’s seen me so many times. I don’t feel any shyness as he slips the fabric across my breasts and exposes them to his gaze.

My nipples tighten in the chill. One of his hands cups a breast, his thumb teasing the tip. He lowers his face to mine again, his mouth hot and insistent. I relax against the mattress, my tongue tentatively searching for his. All the emotions swirl together. Nervousness. Excitement. Urgency.

Jax braces on an elbow over me and lowers his body onto mine. He is solid and muscled. The weight is welcome, and all on their own, my knees come up around him on either side.

He sucks in a breath and trails his mouth down my neck, across my collarbone, and up the rise of a breast. When he captures a nipple, my body responds wildly, arching up to him. Now I’m swamped with one singular feeling — need.

I know what happens between couples. I wrote about it to Jax in our letters. Now he’s here, and I’m frustrated by the clothes, caught in the demands of my body.

Jax understands my sudden desperation and feeds it by yanking the shirt off my shoulders. He lifts me and the pajama top is gone, hitting the floor next to the bed. The onyx ring, loose on my finger, comes off and goes with it, but I let it go.

I feel bold and reach for his waist, tugging his crisp shirt from his belt. Then it is my turn with the buttons, my fingers fumbling as Jax makes his way across my shoulder and into my neck with his mouth.

We’re going to do this. I’m going to do this.

My brain is still processing where we are, what is happening.

I don’t know if Jax will like it, or if he’ll ever want me again after he gets it, but I decide then and there that I don’t care.

One night with him is worth the grief that might follow. I’ll take it.

I’ll try to be worth the trouble I’ve caused him.

His shirt opens and I run my hands up the solid plank of his abs and to his taut chest. I can’t take his shirt off while he’s braced on his elbows, but his mouth is back down low and my mind goes blank as he takes a nipple in his mouth and draws it deeply in.

One of his hands moves to my waist, and my nerves do a small jangle in my head when a finger slips inside the elastic band of my pajamas.

I’m on fire, the urgency licking at me, but I don’t know what to expect or when it will hurt.

He touched me before, and it was fine. But this time it will go so much further.

Jax must feel my subtle shift into tension because he lifts his head. “I’ll be careful,” he says.

I want to weep, washed over with tenderness and something else, something touching and warm, tingly in a different way from what I feel when he touches me.

But he eases the soft pants over my hips and the fire takes over again. He gives a little growl and shifts his weight. My legs go flat down on the bed again as he moves off me enough to yank my pants to my knees in one swift jerk.

The oversized shoes I stole from Klaus kick off easily. Jax leans over me, his hands moving across my belly. I wish I had the red thong again, or something pretty, but I’m back to my plain white underwear.

“I’m beginning to really like this look,” Jax says, his thumbs slipping inside the elastic of the legs.

I can barely breathe again, waiting for him to touch me where I want him to go.

“Are you cold?” he asks.

I shake my head no. I don’t trust my voice now.

“So beautiful,” he whispers. His hand travels up from my hip, over my ribs, along the swell of a breast and back up to my jaw. “I could look at this all night.”

His mouth meets mine again, and this kiss is careful, measured, under tight control. I start to feel that he wants to unleash, but he’s holding back, for my sake.

I’m grateful. Everything is so full of sensation, so overwhelming, that I have to work through each part on its own.

His chest is on mine now, skin to skin, and I wrap my arms around him, holding him against me. I’ve never touched so much of another person or had so much contact.

Jax shifts over again, letting his hand trail down my body. I know where he’s going this time, and my hips thrust upward to meet him. He touches me outside the panties, and my legs part without my telling them to. His fingers slide up along the folds and press hard against the nub.

Even through the cotton fabric, his touch sends sensations spiraling through me, pleasure, need, desire. I clutch at his strong arm and let myself fall into it, as though there is some vast collection of stars I will hurtle through.

Jax slips a finger inside the panties and my entire body responds. I suck in air against his mouth. It’s even more intense than in the barn, without the distraction of the task of untying the knots and the rough hay beneath us.

Something begins to build, and I can’t think of anything else but this tight intense feeling brought out by his touch. My hips begin to roll all on their own, working with his movements.

Jax fights the panties a moment more, then rips them down with an impatient growl. His mouth leaves mine and he kneels over me, spreading my knees. He looks like a warrior, muscled and tense, his eyes dark gray.

Then he leans and his lips meet my belly, leaving a damp trail as he moves down. When his mouth finds its destination, my hips lurch up to him. I can’t breathe again, caught in the rapture of his attention, suckling the nub, then his tongue spearing into my body.

His strong hands hold fast to my thighs, pressing them wide as he dives in.

I clutch at the bedspread, long since lost, the stars showering down on me now.

The spiraling sensation intensifies, and the tight powerful urgency reaches a fever pitch.

Everything holds still just for a moment, this pleasure, his careful, insistent movements, and then it all just lets go.

A cry escapes as my body ripples with intensity, the cascades pulsing through me. I’m overwhelmed by it and hold Jax’s head, letting the sensations wash over me, waves that keep coming, tight and strong.

Then I fall back and everything drifts down. Jax moves gently below, drawing out the gentle ripples that slowly even out into a soft contentment.

I want to weep, to collapse into emotion. I’m overwhelmed by how I feel about Jax, but I know I can’t succumb to that. I’ve read books. I know better. Women always mix up gratitude, sex, and love. I won’t do it.

I open my eyes. Jax watches me quietly, his eyes less intense now. “You all right?” he asks.

As content as I feel, I want to know the rest of it, what happens next. “I am,” I tell him. “But it’s time for you to lose those pants.”