Maybe he can tell. “Can I kiss you instead?” he says, and his voice is quiet.
Every time he asks, it’s like a bit of the unease in my chest melts away, dissolving into nothing. I wonder if he knows.
I look into his earnest eyes and nod. “Yes.”
When he closes the distance, his mouth is gentle and soft, and he bites at my lip in a way that steals my thoughts and lights a fire in my belly. My breathing goes rough and ragged at once, and he draws back to study me.
He’s straddling my waist, and my hands fall on his knees. His pants are loose, but revealing shadows are everywhere. If he were to shift his weight by a few inches, my lustful thoughts would be no secret either.
I slide my hands up his thighs, and he sucks in a quick breath—then traps my hands under his own. I go still, but he smiles, then lifts my hands to press them into the mattress, threading our fingers together. It leaves him all but hovering above me.
“Forgive me,” I whisper.
“You’ve done nothing wrong,” he says, and there’s a smile in his voice, but a note of seriousness as well. “But too many people have taken too much from you. I don’t want to be one more.”
My chest constricts in a way that’s both painful and exquisite. “Jax,” I whisper.
He kisses me again, and this time he’s more sure, his fingers tightening on mine, his knees tight against my rib cage. He finally does shift, and our chests meet. Our hips meet. I gasp into his mouth. That fire in my belly turns to liquid honey that spreads through my veins. I’m desperate, wanting, making small sounds low in my throat. When I get a hand free, I grab his waistband to pull him tighter against me, and I’m gratified to draw a gasp from him as well.
But then he smacks my hand away and grins. He touches his nose to mine and whispers against my mouth. “No.”
“As you say.”
I expect him to pull away, but he grinds against me harder, buryinghis face in my neck. As his teeth graze my skin, his hand finds my waist, his fingers five points of heat. His hand slips under the edge of my trousers, finding the bare edge of my hip.
I can’t breathe. I’m all but panting underneath him, my hands wanting skin but clutching the night air. I get a fistful of his hair, and he growls against me. That almost does me in.
“Jax,” I’m gasping. “Jax.”
His response is slow, languorous, murmured against my throat. “Yes?”
“I—I—”
His hand goes still. “Stop?”
I shake my head fiercely. “No—no—I—”
“Then hush. And take for once.”
I want to protest, but his teeth find my bare chest, and I forget everything I wanted to say. His tongue brushes my nipple, drawing it into his mouth, and I forget my ownname.
Then his hand slips the rest of the way under my clothes, his gentle fingers closing around me, and I shudder. I hear him whisper, but the words don’t find my ears. My body knows, though, and I’m nodding without thinking, my fingers sliding through his hair. Every breath feels like fire, and my back is arching against the mattress under his touch.
Jax kisses his way down my chest, tugging at the waist of my trousers. I’m aware of the cool night air, of the way our legs have tangled together, of the sudden warmth of his mouth. I’m aware of his eyes, still dark and intent on mine. I’m aware of his patience. Of his gentle kindness.
And later, when I tug him back up my body, whispering my devotion, my gratitude, my reverence, he presses his lips to mine, and I kiss him deeply. I have a momentary worry that he’s going to pull away, that he’s going to leave. But Jax tucks his face into my neck, his breath sweetand warm against my skin, his palm a spot of heat against the center of my chest.
This is a different kind of magic, one that no one can take away from me.
CHAPTER 39
CALLYN
I don’t mean to doze off, but Alek’s arms are so warm, and I can’t remember the last time I felt so safe, so secure. But time passes, and somehow I’m under my quilt, my hand reaching out in the darkness, finding nothing more than an empty bed beside me.
For a quick moment, I wonder if I dreamed everything. My eyes blink sleepily, and I see that the door is no longer closed and locked, the very edge of Nora’s bed visible across the hall. Candlelight flickers off my walls, so I roll over.
Alek is sitting in my chair beside Mother’s old writing desk. The chair is angled so he can see out the window, but his eyes are on one of her books.
