She stills, but she doesn’t bat me away. Tentatively, I press my burning lips against hers. She parts for me, and I bring her bottom lip between mine. Soft. So soft, but so cold. I want to ignite her with the fever she’s given me, tuck her against me so she’s never cold again. Without thinking, my hand slips behind her neck, and I pull her into me. She gasps into my mouth.
I swallow it.
I swallowher.
Chapter Nineteen
Kira
My heart pounds violently as I let Jax kiss me, my skin flushing something wicked. Heat curls up my spine, searing through my veins. He tastes like a secret, one I should lock away before it ruins me.
But I don’t.
What am Idoing?
Nothing.
I’m doingnothingas he drinks me in, his hands moving over me like he has every right. My arms hang useless at my sides, my fingers long since slipping from the idea of escape. I’m not even trying to make him stop. I’m melting, unable to move—too stunned to kiss him back, too weak to resist.
I try to remind myself he’s dangerous, that the hand he has tangled in my hair is the hand that held a gun to my head, but he’s so warm… so gentle.
My head tilts in respite. He cradles it. My eyes flutter shut. I’m in an oblivion of Jax. Every glide and every stroke, the soft grazes of his teeth. Each movement is the lapping of warm ocean waves on a summer night. I hear myself sigh into him, and he inhales it, shuddering around me.
And then—
He’s gone.
I blink, my lips still parted. Jax has leaned back into his seat, dragging a hand down his face as my vision sways. Off balance, my own hand goes to my chest in an attempt to steady myself. I can’t believe I let him do that. Why did I let him do that?
“You were supposed to punch me,” he says, sounding frustrated, and I force myself to straighten. He runs his hands down his jeans, throwing his head back against the rest.
“Punch you?” My mouth opens, then closes. My thoughts are a tangle, frayed at the edges. “Punch you?” I repeat, this time with more conviction. “I—” My hands shake as I push my hair back. “I should have stabbed you.” Yes, that’s right. That’s me.
“You already did that,” he says as if unimpressed, blowing out a breath towards the roof of the car.
“Well, then I should have—should have…” My brain isn’t working.
Fuck. Since when do I get flustered? I just can’t believe I let him do that, that he had the gall to even try it.
“Should have punched me,” he supplies, a moan escaping him. “Because now that I’ve tasted you, I won’t be able to stop myself from coming back for more.”
What?! I can barely fathom—
A sharp rap on my window startles me, embarrassment flooding in. Of course. Of course this is how I get caught—making out in a car like a teenager. I turn, expecting Nosy Nellie’s familiar silhouette of a muumuu and knobby, carpal-tunnel-ridden hands—
The silhouette outside isn’t hers.
It’s a man.
“Fuck,” Jax says.
Twisting back, my stomach knots with dread. Jax has gone rigid, a vein throbbing in his neck. His jaw tightens, the muscle ticking as he forms a fist.
My head whips back toward my window. I can only make out a portion of the man, just below the belt, his hands leisurely slipped into his pockets. But there’s an infestation of tattoos lining his forearms, and not the artistic kind. These are crudely done, like prison ink.
“Who is it?” I ask Jax.
“Stay in the car. Donotget out,” he orders, grasping his door handle like he’s going to leave me in here alone.
