He shoves me again, this time with the full force of his strength. My shoulders slam into the bars of the stall door.
Without thinking, I snarl and shove him back.
He’s ready for it, though. It should be enough to knock him down, but he’s grabbed hold of my vest, and it keeps him upright. For a moment, we tussle, batting at hands and straining for grip. I don’t know how we’ve gone from embracing to crying to aggression in such a short span of time, but wehave, and it feels dangerously good. He might not have skill, but he’s strong, and he doesn’t yield. When Jax slams me into the bars of the stall door again, he falls against me, losing some of his leverage. His hand presses against my shoulder to pin me there, and I seize his wrist, gripping tight, ready to grapple.
But then he just . . . ?stops. His other hand slips under my vest and his mouth lands below my ear.
“Shh,” he whispers, and suddenly I’m caught by nothing more than his breath against my skin and the weight of his fingers along my waist.
I inhale sharply, just before his tongue burns a line right over my pulse.
I can’t speak. I can’tthink. I wasn’t ready for the sudden change, and my hand goes slack on his wrist.
Then his hips shift to meet mine, and it steals a ragged gasp right from my throat.
Jax presses a gentle kiss against my neck. “Wedon’t have to fight.”
But fighting is simpler.
The words stall in my throat. There are a thousand reasons we shouldn’t be doing this, but right now, I can’t think of a single one. My entire existence has centered on the feeling of his teeth capturing my ear. His fingers teasing along the band of my trousers.
Whatever your demands, I think,I yield.
“Jax,” I gasp. “Jax.”
He cuts me off with a kiss.
Despite everything, it’s unexpected. After all the rough-and-tumble scuffling, I expect him to be quick, aggressive, but his hand slips up my neck, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw. The press of his lips against mine is soft. Delicate. Gentle. Sweet.Slow.
He pauses there, just a little, just enough. His eyes seek mine. “Yes?”
I don’t have to yield. Jax never demands.
A pulse of emotion threatens to overwhelm me again, and my breathing stutters, but I nod fiercely and bury my fingers in his hair. This time, I part his lips with my own. When I taste his tongue, I nearly come undone, and then it’smyhands on his waist, turning us, pinning him against the wall, my hips thrusting into his.
I’m gratified to earn a gasp fromhim, but then his tunic slips past my hands and my fingers find the smooth slope of his waist, and it’s all I can do to keep us from ending up in the straw.
But then an equine muzzle thrusts itself against my ribs, then my shoulder, and finally blows puffs of warm air right in Jax’s face.
Jax laughs softly, under his breath. “Teddy has had quite enough of this.”
We break apart, and I push the horse away, but he noses at my hands. Likely hungry, and ready for us to lock up his stall for the night.
I feel flushed and off balance, nowhere near ready for that moment to have been interrupted—but there’s a part of me that’s glad it was.I duck to fetch Jax’s crutches, then the brushes, and we withdraw into the aisle. We stop there, side by side, as if we’rebothhaunted by uncertainty.
Eventually, Jax turns to face me. “Don’t make me fight you again.”
He’s half teasing, half serious, but I seize his wrists anyway, spinning him to fall back against my chest, trapping his arms. His crutches clatter to the ground, and I can feel his heart beating hard against me.
“I changed my mind,” he says, a little breathless. “Let’s do it again.”
That makes me laugh. I loosen my grip, untiltrappingbecomesholding, and Jax rests his hands over mine.
Then we’re quiet again, the pressure of time weighing on both of us.
Jax turns his head, and his hair brushes my cheek. “Come back to the Shield House with me,” he murmurs.
For an instant my heart leaps.
