My back slams against the wall, Jax taking the brunt of it as his body sinks into mine. He breaks away from my lips on a ragged breath, pressing rough kisses down the side of my neck that make my knees weaken underneath him. My hands slide into his hair, gripping it tightly.
“Jax.” My voice sounds woozy, almost drunk.
I lick my lips, tasting him. I’m drunk on Jax Cohen.
He softens his kisses, tracing his path back up to my lips and catching them for one last, lingering kiss before he pulls away. My breath heaves as we stare at each other.
His tongue darts out, chasing the taste of me across his lips. “Knew you’d taste like sin, shortcake.”
Holy smokes. I stay where I am, very much aware that if I try to move right now, my knees will collapse.
He takes a step towards me, his hands cupping my face as he searches my eyes. “You okay? Too much?”
I manage to shake my head.
It doesn’t feel like enough, every part of me straining to reach for him. But it’s enough for now.
He rubs his thumb across my cheek. “You’ve got a little something here.”
I give him a look. We’re both covered in flour. I wince as I glance down the hall, seeing the trail of white we’ve left behind us. “Emmett won’t be happy.”
“I’ll clean it up,” Jax promises.
He darts in to steal another kiss, and I narrow my eyes at him. “Woah there, stud. You’ve had your reward.”
“Not enough,” he says promptly. “I’ll never get enough of you, Sienna Michaels.”
Smooth talker. I kind of like it. Chewing my cheek to keep the blush off my cheeks, I start making my way back down to the kitchen.
“If you’re good,” I call casually over my shoulder, “I might give you a cookie.”
“Baby, I want all your cookies. Every single one.”
Why does he make that sound filthy?
32
LOGAN
My fingers pause in their sketching, my hand clenching around my pencil as a twig snaps ahead of me.
I’m fairly far out from the bar, my back resting against a tree as I sketch on the tiny pad Gray brought back amongst the art supplies he managed to find in town. My body stills as I hear another crack, and then I catch the simmer of smoky campfire.
Home. That’s what Gray smells like to me. Sienna gives me the same feeling. It’s hard to describe, but I can feel it coming out in my art, even though what I can do is limited out here. I flip the sketchbook closed as Gray appears, his eyes finding mine.
He looks tired, but he smiles. “Hey, you.”
“Hey.” I set the book aside as he comes to crouch in front of me, balancing himself with his hands on my knees. “Everything okay?”
Gray nods. He looks more rumpled than I’ve ever seen him, dressed in a crumpled tee that I’m pretty sure might be mine, his hair glinting copper in the sun and falling over his forehead in a lazy curl.
His hands tighten on my knees. “Stop looking at me like that.”
I grin. “Like you’re edible, you mean?”
He snaps his teeth at me playfully, so I take it ten steps too far and just launch myself at him. The sudden attack takes him by surprise, and by the time he’s caught his breath, I have him pinned, his hips snug against the inside of my thighs.
Leaning down, I snap my teeth right back into his stunned face. “I win.”
