He held her gaze. His thumb brushed over the condom wrapper once. Intentional. "This is my rule, with others. But if you want something different, you don't have to wonder if it's safe."
April stared at him for half a heartbeat, struck by the way he'd said it. Like he was offering her a choice, not making assumptions.
He leaned in, close enough that his breath warmed the corner of her mouth, but he didn't kiss her yet. "It doesn't mean I assumed yes. It means I'm not reckless with you."
"That," she said softly, "is kind of hot."
His eyes flashed, pleased and a little stunned. "Good." Then, like he couldn't help himself, the smirk returned. His hand brushing soft strokes up her side.
Jax was standing here with his updated STI panel and his pocket lube and his considered questions. He’d watched her all day. Wanted to burn the world down for her. Quoted poetry like he’d been collecting her favorite lines in case he ever got the chance to hand them back.
And Mateo’s voice, hours ago:Take what you want.
The library had been a dare.
Jax was a decision.
“I want you.”
“Bare.”
The condom wrapper crinkled in his grip. And stared into her eyes as he slowly, deliberately, set the condom aside.
Not discarded.Superseded.
His hand slid into her hair, angling her head. The other hand gripped her waist, pulling her flush when she leaned in. This wasn’t the careful kiss from before. This was possession wrapped in care, hunger held in check to make sure she felt chosen. Her balance tipped. His hands caught her like he’d expected it, like bracing her had always been part of the plan.
When he finally pulled back, they were both breathing hard. He guided her back toward the ridiculous fainting couch that looked like it had been designed for Victorian ladies with thevapors. His hands were firm but measured, positioning her like she was delicate circuitry he was trying not to short out.
April’s back met the velvet, and her brain offered up one last coherent thought:I’m allowed to have this.
Jax knelt between her legs, his hands sliding up her thighs, pushing the emerald silk up, out of the way. He pressed a grazing kiss to her inner thigh. Then another, higher.
His mouth traced a slow line of kisses toward her center. When he reached her hipbone, he paused, mouth hovering. He looked up at her, holding the space open just long enough for her to feel it. His mouth closed on her.
He started slow, almost maddeningly so. His tongue traced her lips with surgical precision that suggested he’d spent significant time thinking about exactly how to unravel her.
April’s fingers twisted into the absurd velvet upholstery. Her hips rolled into his mouth without permission from her brain.
“Fuck—” The word came out ragged.
Her nipples tightened, oversensitive against the silk bunched at her waist. The need wound tighter with each methodical stroke of his tongue.
Jax hummed against her clit, and the vibration made her thighs tremble.
He didn’t rush. He varied the pressure, withdrew, returned, slow enough that her back lifted from the chaise without her meaning it to.
When he pulled back, April whimpered, a sound she'd be embarrassed about later. His mouth was gone, but his hand replaced it immediately, two slick fingers pressing in where his tongue had been.
Then April’s hand found him and her brain stalled.
“You have… upgrade ports.”
Multiple upgrade ports. Arranged with surgical neatness. “That’s a concerning amount of hardware for a single interface.”
Jax laughed, his fingers still moving inside her. “Incremental optimization.”
April's hand stilled on him, fingers tracing the metal.
