I jerk upright, dragging my hands down my face. “What—” My voice is wrecked. “What the fuck is going on?”
She doesn’t flinch or move away.
“I think you were having a nightmare,” she says softly, like I’m some small child.
My eyes dart around the room, the bed. Scotch’s on the floor, snoring his ass off, belly up like nothing’s wrong.
“I thought I went back to the couch,” I say, the words scraping my throat. “I—did I?—”
Her fingers twist in the blanket. “I woke up,” she says slowly, carefully, “and you were here. Your arms were around me. You were shaking.”
My gut clenches. “Did I—” I stop myself. Try again. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.” She shakes her head quickly. “Nothing happened. You were just… holding on.”
“Fuck,” I groan, already pushing back. Already reaching for distance. “I shouldn’t have?—”
I swing my legs off the bed.
“You were crying in your sleep,” she blurts out. “You were in pain. You were saying things—like you were back there. Something happening again.”
She places her hand on my back.
I bolt to my feet.
“If you don’t want me,” she says, wounded, “then why bring me here, Jax?”
I rake a hand through my hair and pace like a caged animal. “You think this is about not wanting you?” I snarl, the last thread of my control snapping.
She sits up. “You’re doing a hell of a job showing it.”
“You don’t fucking get it,” I say, voice low. “If I let myself have you the way I want to?—”
I take a step toward her. “I won’t stop. I’ll fucking hurt you again.”
She just stares at me.
“You think I push you away because I don’t want you?” My voice roughens. “I push you away because I want to bend you over every fucking surface in this place and never let you leave.”
She looks at me like she’s trying to figure out if I’m lying—or if the truth is worse.
I reach for her, yanking her close until our mouths are almost touching. “I want you,” I say. “Every second of every fucking day. When I’m awake. When I’m asleep. When I’m trying with everything I have not to.”
Her hand grabs mine. “Then stop punishing yourself and stop taking it out on me.”
For a moment, we just breathe.
She leans in. “Kiss me, Jax.”
My hands are shaking and I don’t even try to hide it. “Can’t,” I say—even as my hands stay locked on her.
“I’m begging,” she says, her hands flattening against my chest, right over my heart.
My fingers slide to her neck and tangle in her hair. She closes her eyes and her mouth opens for me. And in that moment, I understand, when it comes to us, she’s the one in control.
Twenty-Two
THEN | SISK
