Her breath stutters.
“Just admit it,” I say, my voice barely audible now. “You want this. You want me. You’re just too stubborn to accept it.”
She closes her eyes like that’ll block me out. But I’m already in.
“I don’t,” she breathes.
“Say it like you mean it.”
She doesn’t.
She can’t.
Because this close… her body’s already telling me the truth.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kira
Jax grips me by the waist and lifts me onto the counter.
My breath catches, but I don’t stop him.
I should. God, I should shove him away, slam my knuckles into his cocky jaw, and tell him exactly how much Idon’twant him. But my hands don’t listen. My body betrays me as if he isn’t a man who kills for a living. His eyes search mine like he’s looking for a sign, but I have nothing except a heating ache.
Everything’s crumbling. My life is a fucking landslide. There was just a detective at my door asking about the man we lit on fire, and instead of clawing my way out, I’m letting the most dangerous man I know drag me deeper.
He steps between my legs, and I suck in a breath.
This is insane.
This is reckless and stupid and exactly what I should be avoiding right now.
But then his hand slides up my thigh, and my back arches.
“You should go,” I try as my knees part wider, inviting him closer.
“I’m not going anywhere,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, fingers curling into my waistband as if he’s holding back from tearing them off.
My hands fist in his shirt before I can stop them, pulling him closer, my body making the calls. Maybe it is. Maybe I’m not in my right mind.
“You’re a mistake,” I say, even as my legs wrap around him.
“So make it twice,” he says, and then he kisses me.
And Ilethim.
Because the truth is, Iamfalling apart. But Jax’s mouth feels like salvation, and everything else is disappearing at the taste of him. The house. Marshal. Nellie. Nix. Prison. The fact that my whole life is circling the drain. All of it gets swallowed by the way he kisses me—like he’s angry I’ve kept him at arm’s length, like he’s punishing me for pretending I didn’t want this.
I like it.
His hands slide under my thighs and yank me to the edge of the counter. I gasp as he takes full advantage, deepening the kiss until I can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t remember why the hell I ever told myself this was a bad idea. Because it is. But I don’t care.
I thread my fingers into his hair and yank hard, dragging a groan out of him that lights something feral in my chest. He pulls back just enough to look at me—really look—and whatever he sees in my face makes his pupils blow wide.
His hands slide under my shirt, rough palms dragging up my ribs like he’s claiming me with his fingertips. My head drops back as he mouths down my neck, teeth grazing my skin.
“You drive me fucking insane,” he mutters into my throat, sucking a bruise right below my jaw.
