Chapter 1
Jackson
Ethan cradles my face, his eyes meeting mine. “I want this with you, but…” He glances away. “I’m not… For you, I can be soft, but if I do something you don’t like, I’m worried it’ll ruin everything.”
He’s concerned he’ll be too rough and I’ll have a flashback or get spooked. He’s being overprotective, as usual.
And I leap from the cliff, hoping he doesn’t let me free fall—or knock me out.
I fist his shirt, and his eyes widen, his lips parting slightly. I crash my mouth to his, and he freezes, but only for a second.
Holy fucking shit. I’m kissing Ethan.
Ethan’s heart hammers under my fist clenching his shirt. His breath catches then washes over me in a shuddering exhale. He tangles his fingers in my hair and takes control of the kiss, and I let him.
I’d let him do anything. Probably.
Soft, pillowy lips move with mine, slowly exploring. We open our mouths, our tongues intertwining, and a jolt of rawelectricity surges through me. My stomach plunges, and a heady rush of blood flows south with raging intensity.
I struggle to remain quiet, but when he deepens the kiss and growls—that throaty fucking growl—I’m done.
If it wasn’t for the damn center console of his Porsche, I’d be all over him. I can’t get close enough.
Mindful of the cut below his lip and the bruise on his chin, I cup his jaw and stroke the rough stubble with my thumb. I’m completely captivated, lost in every moan and sigh.
I savor his taste. It’s uniquely his. Masculine—dark and strong like the coffee he drinks, tinged with a metallic tang of blood.
He breaks the kiss far too soon, his eyes half-lidded and pupils blown. “Fuck, Jax. What are you trying to do to me?”
“Everything,” I whisper and find his lips once more. “You could choke me out, and I’d wake up and ask you to do it again. You won’t hurt me. I know that. I trust you. Stop worrying.”
I lean in for another kiss, and he grips my hair, stopping me.
“We can’t do this here.” His dimpled smile and lingering gaze suggest otherwise.
“We’re in the underground parking lot of your apartment…and the windows are tinted.” I trace his bottom lip with my tongue. “Please.”
“My God. Control yourself. I know that’s hard for you…”
That’s not the only thing that’s hard.
With a groan, he kisses me, teasing and languid, making me doubt I’m the only one losing control.
“…but we have to be careful,” he mumbles against my lips.
“They might trade me. We’ll be fine.”
He withdraws, brows pinched in a scowl and jaw set. “Is that what you want?”
“If it means I get you.” Hockey is the furthest thing from my mind, but I’ll agree to anything if it brings his mouth back to me.
His head dips. “No,” he rumbles before his teeth graze my neck. “You’re mine. You’re staying onmyteam.”
“Yes, Coach.” I full-on grin—a self-satisfied, lovesick, forbidden grin I can’t hide.
I trace the defined contours of his chest and abs until I find the hem of his shirt and slide my hand inside. His skin is burning hot, andhis muscles twitch and jump beneath my fingers.
His lips continue their trail down my throat, and I rest my head on the seat. I want him. I love him. It feels right—better than right, goddamn amazing. Why haven’t we done this sooner?
