“I enjoyed the hell out of it.” There’s the understatement of the century.
“Good”—he whispers—“because I’m going to do it again.” Jax leans in ever so close, waiting until the very last second to close his eyes, that sexy grin building on his face. He grazes his lips over mine and pulls back gauging my reaction, his lids still low and heavy. But I’ve seen that twitching grin on his face before. Jax is not waiting for permission to enter. He knows he already has that. It’s the same twitchy smile he used to give when we were kids and I’d want him to get on with whatever he was doing. Once, we were trekking down a snow-covered hill, much like the suicide slope we just endured, and I begged him to push my sled. Of course, he rocket-launched me in an attempt to perfect the first lunar landing, but that’s beside the point. Those lips are coming at me again—and oh my God, here they come!
Jax presses his lips over mine and lingers in a slow circular fashion before pulling away once more.
“How’s that feel, Eight Ball?” he whispers through his unsteady panting.
I swallow hard, looking up at eyes that rival the sky for that precious hue. “It feels like you forgot how to slip one in the pocket.”
“What?” He inches back a notch, and just like that, I’ve broken the dreamy spell that had him pecking at my lips.
“Um”—a weird choking sound emits from me—“never mind. I was just.”
“You were just hoping I’d do this.” He pumps out a dry laugh, no smile as he comes in for the kill once again. Jax lands his mouth over mine and pries my lips open with the flick of his tongue. He swims in and meets me there, soft and slow, so achingly deliberate, it’s as if he’s taking the time to introduce himself. The real him. Today, there is no Jax and Pop’s Show. It’s just the two of us in the snow—kissing.
He pulls back, and that smirk he wore a moment ago has completely dissolved to nothing.
“How was that?”
I can’t help but shed a crooked grin. “Are you using me to sharpen your skills? Because I’m a mean as hell instructor. And I don’t grade on a curve.” God, I’m such an idiot! Why does my jaw keep flapping? Any other girl would have shut the eff up and let him have his way with her—butno, I have to beat down every situation with the baseball bat of sarcasm.
A dull laugh huffs through his chest. “Nope. I just wondered if you wanted more from the other night—like I did.”
Like he did?
“Here, let me help you up.” He offers me a hand, but I pull him down to me by the back of his neck.
“Not so fast.” My chest pumps violently. My panting grows wild. I’m more than afraid I might pass out. “I didn’t get my fill.” I pull his mouth down over mine, and it’s a clash of dull laughter, of teeth, of untamable frenzied kisses. It’s quite possibly the sloppiest, most delicious, sweetest, most heavenly kiss of my entire life.
I pull his body over mine, welcoming him onboard with a squeeze. Jaxson moans as his tongue-lashing intensifies. His mouth slips down as he gently takes a bite of my lower lip, and I die the death of a thousand mini orgasms. Bliss. Lying in the frozen tundra in the backwoods of Oak Grove with the prince of the county himself lying on top of me is heaven personified.
His hands move down my jacket as he tries to gain entry to any living part of me, but I couldn’t be more hermetically sealed if I tried. A tank top, a turtleneck, a thermal, a sweater, and a down jacket that may as well come with a barbed wire fence. This boy isn’t getting anywhere near my lady goods. And don’t get me started on the double yoga pant debacle going on underneath my snow pants. I’m already resigned to the fact I’ll be losing fingernails when it’s time to peel all of these formidable layers off. Leave it to me to don an outfit that requires security clearance and a panty access code that neither of us can conquer.
Jaxson pulls up on his elbow, panting a warm storm over me. “Did your father dress you?”
“No. Conner did.”
We share a small laugh at my brother’s expense. Honest to God, if given half the chance, Conner would have dressed me exactly this way. Okay—so he might have included a combination lock, but it so would not have been needed. The elastic, latex, spandex, Lycra nightmare combo is enough.
“All right.” He winces. “Maybe we should get back before I get in a really hard situation there’s no getting out of.”
I glance down to his jeans and spot a cucumber-like growth already presenting a problem.
“We can have a snowball fight.” I bite down over my bottom lip to keep from laughing. “I can throw snow at your crotch in an effort to scare it away.”
“Poppy.” His dimples dig in, but you can see the pain in his eyes at the thought.
“Come here.” I pull him in close and laugh right over his mouth as I work his jeans open.
“What are you doing?” Those dark brows twitch, and something in me loosens. For so long Jaxson has owned me, and for just one moment I’d love to own him.
“I’m an expert at getting boys out of hard situations.”
“Are you trying to make me vomit?”
“Okay, so that was a lie.” My hands hit flesh, and I dive-bomb into his boxers and pay dirt. Holy cow, Jaxson Stade really does have a cucumber in his pants. “Wow, this is a really, really big problem.” My panting hits its zenith as I carefully wrap my hands around his rather impressive girth. Then it hits me. I’m touching Jaxson Stade’s penis. His willy, wiener, wanker,love wand—is presently throbbing in a granite-like fashion, safe in my palms. And just like that, the sarcastic bitch in me douses her flame, and the moment grows serious, beautiful in the strangest sense.
“Shit,” he hisses. Jax closes his eyes as his mouth falls over mine, bouncing over my cheek with unsteady kisses. “You don’t have to do this.”
