“How did you even—” She stopped. Shook her head. “You know what? I don’t want to know.” Because if she asked, she’d have to acknowledge how much he’d already seen.
“Good instinct. Plausible deniability is your friend.”
April turned back to the mirror, because if she kept looking at him she was going to start asking questions, like how long he’d been there and whether he’d heard her talking to herself about the furniture, and she didn’t have the capacity for the answers.
She pulled out her lipstick, trying to steady her hands.
In the reflection, Jax didn’t move.
April set the lipstick down.
Her hands were still braced on the counter, but her reflection had gone soft at the edges—less polished, more real.
The air shifted. Jax stepped behind her.
Close enough for her to feel the heat of him at her back.
“May I?” he asked, voice low. “Touch you here?”
His fingers hovered near the delicate chains of her dress where they draped over her shoulder.
April nodded. “Yes.”
Jax’s hand moved with reverence. Like he was tracing circuitry. Two fingers tracing the fine gold links from her collarbone to the dip of her arm.
Each link a choice she’d made to be seen tonight.
“You look like art,” he said, low against her ear. “But this part—”
He dipped his head, lips brushing the bare skin just beneath the chain.
Soft.
Barely there.
But it landed like a promise.
“This part feels like mine.”
April’s eyes fluttered closed for a second. When they opened again, her reflection didn’t look shocked. It looked claimed.
His eyes met hers in the mirror.
His hand still rested on her shoulder where the chain had been.
April turned. For a second, they looked at each other.
Then she kissed him first.
The contact sent a jolt through her system. His mouth was warm, tasted faintly of mint even now.
Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer.
Jax groaned and kissed her back.
Like he’d been holding it in all day.
The silk chafed where it clung to her, pressure and friction layered over nerves already strung too tight.
