And it doesn’t.
It gives. Breaks. Shatters.
I cum with a sob caught in my throat, my body locking up as heat explodes in my core and rips through me.
He doesn’t stop. Not until he’s there with me—buried so deep I can’t tell where I end and he begins, his breath ragged against my neck as he lets go with a guttural, broken sound that makes my stomach flip as he fills me up.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Kira
Idon’t hate him. I hate myself.
And I hate Nix for snoring so loudly.
Turning over in bed, I try to shimmy as far away from her as I can. She doesn’t want to sleep in her room, and I don’t blame her. For one, there’s no floor, and two… Well, I’m trying really hard not to believe in ghosts because I have enough problems.
And despite all of them, Jax is sitting comfortably at the top.
All I want to do is sleep, something deep enough to get him out of my head. But between the snorting hog next to me and the fact that I’m sweating even though it’s freezing in here, the moment I gave in to him is on a vicious loop. How could I be so stupid? I let the cocky bastard carve another notch in his bedpost.
And Ilikedit.
I’m supposed to be smart. I’ve always prided myself on my ability to snub the dangerous ones, regardless of how smooth-talking they were. I can see through bullshit and throw up a wall against the promise of dick because my life is taking care of my sister—making sure we have food and a roof, and walking the straight and narrow—not fooling around with someone who has blood on their hands.
I know better.
I know better than to get involved with trouble, no matter how tight trouble’s black tee and jeans are, or how delectably their tattoos wrap around their biceps, or how their single dimple appears when they smile. I just know better. And I certainly don’t bring them home, let alone fuck them on the kitchen counter.
Stupid.
Kicking off the comforter in both frustration and the pursuit of cool air, I squeeze my eyes shut.
At least I didn’t let the doctor take out my birth control like he wanted. Then I would really be fucked. Not only would I have to worry about life in prison, but I would have to worry about givingbirthin prison. I shudder at the thought.
Because that’s where I’m going, sooner or later.
That Detective Layton, regardless of what Jax said, could see right through me, and I don’t doubt he’s making a case against me right this second. He probably has a whole murder board with my face pinned dead center with red thread and a growing list of questions to corner me with.
Part of me is thankful because if that’s so, that means that Nix is in the clear, but the other part of me wants to crawl under the bed and sob.
I’m not cut out for this shit. I thought I could handle anything, but apparently that’s only poverty. I’m built for late shifts and taking care of Nix and scraping by, not hiding bodies and lying to detectives and fucking men who kill for a living.
I pinch the bridge of my nose, trying not to spiral, trying not to think about the way Jax’s breath felt in my ear, or the way he said I would behis.
That’s the real problem. Not the sex. Not even the risk. Not the way his hands gripped my waist in possession.
The problem is, for a second, one stupid, reckless second, Iwantedto be his.
And now I can’t stop thinking about it.
I’ve never wanted or needed a man to save me. But at that moment, God, I wanted nothing more than to let him handle everything like he said he would—I wanted tobelievehe would. And for one second, I did. The weight of the world left my shoulders. I couldbreathe. I mean, Jax Landon burns bodies, and if I was his, what wouldn’t he do to make sure I was okay? I reveled in it as he fucked me—reveled in the fact that he keeps a gun tucked into his waistband and could whip it out at anyone who tried to make my life harder than it already is. Because I am so, so tired of doing everything alone. Would it be so bad to be his?
I shake my head abruptly and sit up.Yes. Letting him do the things he does—forme—would only cause more trouble.
And I don’t want someone like him near Nix.
I twist to look at her. She’s face-first on the mattress, and it’s no wonder she sounds like a hog, but she’smyhog. I made a horrible mistake letting Marshal get close, I won’t make the same one with Jax.
