Each etched feather of frost creates a beautiful, delicately raised texture beneath my fingertips. He sucks in a breath when I trace along his stomach, the bulge in his dark-navy pants growing larger.
The need for him, for this, is too great. Maybe I’m crazy. Maybe I don’t understand everything. But right now, I don’t really care.
In dance, intention and perfecting the technique will only get you so far. At the end of the day, they are just the foundation for your instincts to take over. That instinct carries your body through the music. It’s your signature. The wow factor that captivates the audience. And right now, I let my instinct carry me through this. “I want to see you… All of you.”
The ball of Jax’s Adam’s apple rolls, and he nods, though he doesn’t move, waiting for me to take the lead. I skate over the waistband of his pants before slipping my fingers under it and pulling them down. My breath falters. His cock is unlike anything I’ve ever seen.
I swallow hard, both from anticipation and a lot of intimidation.
It’s covered in the same adornment as his upper body, the patterns wrapping around his thick length in beautiful invitation. What would those ridges feel like in my palm? Against my lips? I want to lower to my knees, take him in my mouth, and trace along each curved line with my tongue. And there, glinting at the center of its crown, is a silver ball with a snowflake stamped into the metal.
“You okay, Tempest?” Jax asks hesitantly.
I stumble over what to say, unable to look away. It’s probably impolite to stare, but I can’t help it. That piercing is staring back at me.
He frowns, then clears his throat, voice a bit deeper. “I’m not a mere mortal man.”
“Well, that’s obvious,” I agree, gesturing at his veryuniqueerection. As if his flesh the shade of thick ice floating across a frozen lake, his markings, or his ability to shift into a wolf aren’t already indicators of that.
I reach for it but he gently encircles my wrist before entwining my hand in his.
“Not tonight. There’s not enough time and there are more pressing matters.”
Are there? Because I’d really love to feelthatpressing into me. Deeply.
I whimper with need, my thighs becoming slick.
What the hell? Did that sound just come from me?
His nostrils flare, pupils dilating until they nearly eclipse the prismatic irises holding me very willingly under whatever spell he’s cast.
I’m spun to face the mirror, and Jax guides my hand up the glass. Touching the mirror is something we’re taught never to do from a very young age. Nothing to mar being able to see every inch of our bodies as we move through the room. It feels both indulgent and indecent seeing my print stain its pristine surface. His textured palm skims up my arms, brushing over the scars at my shoulder before wrapping around my throat. His thumb directs my chin forward.
“Eyes on us, Tempest,” he whispers. “Don’t you dare close them.”
I have no desire to blink now or ever again, for that matter. What if he’s swept away and I’m left to wonder, once more, if he’s all in my head?
Fingers skate along the top of my throat again, and Jax’s whisper sends a shiver that has my toes curling against the burlap box of my pointe shoes. “You will watch everything I do to you. Understand?”
I nod wildly, gaze following his fingers down my neck. They loop around the strap of my leotard, dragging it over my shoulder. One, then the other. He presses a cool kiss to my shoulder blade, and my breath hitches, nipples pebbling against the periwinkle Lycra. The straps of my leotard hang, untouched, as he oh so gently pulls out each bobby pin in my bun. With each tug, stinging relief spreads from my scalp across the rest of my head. His brows knit in concentration until he’s removed them all, taking my hairnet and mesh and tossing them on the ground.
“You’re so beautiful, Jolie.” My name on his lips is as worshipful as prayer. Sacred.
He kneels, taking his time to untie the ribbons of my shoes before slipping them off me and setting them aside. He does itso reverently, looking like he’s worried he’ll break me. Then his fingers skim up my tights, my body shivering beneath them.
This is real.
He’sreal.
Despite the fact that we’ve been communicating for weeks, seeing him brings a new level of understanding. It’s Jax. He’s whole, here, and he wants me.
Then he slowly peels my leotard down, along with my tights that are damp and clinging to me. I step out of them, and he brings them to his face and inhales deeply. “Fate be damned, Tempest, it’s going to take everything for me not to come when I touch you.”
“Touch me. Please.” It’s a whimper. A plea. This man is risking everything being here, and I don’t want to miss a single moment of what he’s offering.
One hand curves with my hip, the other glides up to my silver scar, mymate mark. He draws delicate circles over it, and every stroke feels as if he’s doing the motion somewhere lower and much more sensitive. My legs rub against each other, desperate for friction.
The hand not drawing devotions upon my sternum taps my leg. “Wide second, Tempest.”
