“There’s a good part?”
“Sloane.” I let my hand slide from her jaw down to her neck, feeling her pulse racing under my palm. “I’m going to make you feel so good you’ll forget your own name. Forget his name. The only name you’ll remember is mine.” The sound she makes, half gasp, half moan, goes straight to my dick. “So,” I murmur, my thumb stroking the soft skin of her throat. “What do you say? Want to have some fun?” She stares at me for a long moment, and I can see the war happening behind her eyes. Fear and desire. Hesitation and need. Please say yes, I’ll make you feel so good.
Then she leans forward, closing the distance between us, and whispers, “Show me.”
Fuck.
I don’t need to be told twice. I close the final inches between us and capture her mouth with mine. Not gentle like last night.Not tentative. This is claiming. This is possession. This is me showing her exactly what I’ve been holding back. She gasps against my mouth, and I take advantage, sliding my tongue past her lips, tasting coffee and something sweet that’s just her. Her hands come up to grip my shirt, and I feel her nails dig in even through the fabric. Good. I want her marks on me. I slide my hand from her throat to the back of her neck, angling her head so I can deepen the kiss. She responds immediately, pressing closer, making these little desperate sounds that drive me insane. When I finally pull back, we’re both breathing hard.
“Bedroom,” I growl.
“Yes,” she breathes.
I stand up and hold out my hand. She takes it without hesitation, and I pull her up and against me. She’s so much smaller than me, soft where I’m hard, and the contrast makes something primal roar in my chest.
Mine.
No. She’s yours just for now, just for the storm. I push that thought away and focus on the woman in my arms.
“Last chance to change your mind,” I tell her, even though it might kill me if she does.
She looks up at me, those dark eyes fierce. “I’m not changing my mind. I want this. I want you.”
“Good.” I bend down and scoop her up, making her yelp in surprise. “Because I’ve been thinking about this since the moment I saw you.”
“You have?” she asks as I carry her toward the bedroom.
“The moment you rolled down the window on your car and gave me sass.” I push the bedroom door open with my shoulder and carry her inside. The bed is still unmade from this morning, blankets tangled, and I deposit her right in the middle of it. She looks up at me, hair spread across the pillow, chest rising andfalling rapidly, and I have to take a moment to just appreciate the picture she makes.
“You’re staring,” she says, but there’s no self-consciousness in her voice, just heat.
“Getting my fill,” I tell her, pulling my shirt over my head and tossing it aside. Her eyes widen as she takes in my chest, my abs, and I see her hands twitch like she wants to touch. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Touch all you want.” She doesn’t need more encouragement. Her hands come up to my chest, fingers splaying wide, exploring. Her touch is tentative at first, then bolder, tracing the lines of muscle, the ridges of my abs.
“You’re ...” She trails off, biting that lip again.
“I’m what?”
“Unfairly hot,” she admits. “Like, stupidly attractive. It’s actually annoying.”
I laugh and lean down, caging her in with my arms. “You want to know what’s annoying? You. In those leggings. In that shirt. Walking around smelling like vanilla and looking at me like you want to climb me like a tree.”
“I do want to climb you like a tree,” she admits breathlessly.
“Later,” I promise. “Right now, I’m in charge.”
Her pupils dilate at that, and I file that information away. She likes it when I take control. Good to know. I kiss her again, slower this time, savoring. My hands find the hem of her shirt, and I break the kiss just long enough to pull it over her head. She’s wearing a simple black bra underneath, nothing fancy, but the way it cups her breasts makes my mouth water.
“Gorgeous,” I murmur, trailing kisses down her jaw, her neck, her collarbone. “Absolutely gorgeous.” Her hands are in my hair now, gripping tight, and I love the slight sting of it. I work my way lower, kissing across the tops of her breasts, feeling her arch into me.
“Jax,” she gasps. “Please.”
“Please, what?” I ask against her skin.
“More. I need more.”
“Patience, sweetheart.” I reach around and unhook her bra with one hand, pulling it away, and tossing it aside. “I’m going to take my time with you.”
And I do. I worship her with my mouth and hands, learning what makes her gasp, what makes her moan, what makes her arch off the bed. I’m thorough and deliberate, mapping every inch of her like I’m memorizing it. Her leggings come off next, then her underwear, until she’s completely bare beneath me while I’m still wearing my jeans.
