My breath shudders.
“Look at me,” he whispers.
I do.
His eys are dark, steady, hungry and they hold me in place.
He lifts his free hand and slowly pushes my hair off my shoulder.
His fingers trail down my neck.
“I want to hear you again,” he murmurs.
My pulse pounds.
“Jaxon…”
He kisses me, harder, deeper, his tongue brushing mine with slow, devastating confidence.
My arms go around his neck as if I was made to hold him.
Heat floods through me.
His hands slide down, to my waist, to my hips, urging me up onto the table.
I gasp softly.
He lifts me, easily, like I weigh nothing, and sets me on the edge, his body fitting between my knees.
I draw in a sharp breath.
He kisses me again, slow, hungry, claiming, his hands exploring the curve of my thighs through my skirt.
My legs tighten around him.
He groans softly into my mouth.
“Good girl,” he whispers against my lips.
My whole body lights up.
I grip his shirt.
He tilts my chin up with one hand.
“I’m going to touch you again,” he murmurs.
My breath breaks.
“Please.”
He smiles, soft, wicked, ruinous.
“Then lie back for me.”
I do.
Heart racing.
