I catch her wrist gently. There’s a thin line of blood welling up from a scratch on her skin. I bring her hand to my mouth without thinking, an instinct I don’t even try to fight. I press my lips to the cut and I taste it.
Her fingers curl slightly against my palm.And for once, I don’t want to be careful with her.
When our mouths meet, the kiss is messy. We forget we’re outside my house, forget the thorns, forget everything but the frantic need to close the distance. My body pushes for more, more of her, more of this, whatever this is. My hand slides down her back, grabbing her ass and pulling her flush against me until there’s no space left, just the heat of her pressing against my hard-on through my jeans. I’m not gonna lie and say I want to take it slow, or that I want to be a gentleman. Right now, all I can think is: my room, my bed, now. I want to know what she looks like without this dress, want to know what it feels like to be the one calling her mine.
I can’t even think straight when she pushes me back, her hands flat against my chest.
“We can’t…” she says, her voice ragged, breathless.
I drag in a lungful of air, my body still screaming for more. “Yeah. We can.”
“I need to go home,” she murmurs.
“Stay a bit longer.”
“I… It’s just…” She shakes her head, a small, confused motion.
“I won’t push you,” I say, my voice rough. “Not ever. You don’t owe me anything.”
“I know.” She looks away, then back at me, her eyes searching mine. “I… need to think this through. I’m leaving soon, Jax.”
Her voice shifts then—teasing. “Or should I call you… Jaxwell?”
“I hate that name.”
“Why? It sounds like someone who owns an oil company and gets away with crimes.”
“It’s my grandfather’s,” I force out.
Her smile fades. “Did you mean it?” she asks, her voice serious again. “Will you… help me figure out if The Pit is… you know… real?”
I don’t even have to think about it. “Of course I meant it.” I squeeze her hand. “I’d do anything for you.”
I pull her in again, my mouth finding hers, and this time it’s not frantic. I back her up until her shoulders hit the siding of the house. My hand fists in her hair again, tilting her head to take the kiss deeper. My other hand traces the curve of her hip, then slides up, my thumb brushing below her ribs.
Her hands move, sliding up my back, her nails digging into my shoulders just enough to make me groan. She kisses me back with the same desperation, and I come to realize, this is it. This is all I want. Her body, her time, her attention. All of it. Every last piece.
“Jax,” she whispers against my mouth, a weak protest.
“I know,” I growl, kissing my way down her jaw to her neck. “I’ll stop. Just give me one more second.”
My lips find that spot just below her ear, and she arches against me. I’m about to say fuck it and just throw her over my shoulder?—
“Ahem.”
We freeze.
I pull back, and standing there, not ten feet away, is Ronny, looking anywhere but at us, his face a perfect mask of professional neutrality. “My apologies, sir,” he says. ”Your father sent me to get the car. Whenever you are ready, miss.”
Sisk pushes gently against my chest, and this time I let her go. She smooths down her dress without even looking at me.
I glare at Ronny over her head. “The fuck, Ronny?”
“Take me home, Jax,” she says, her voice tight and brittle. “Now.”
Thirty-Two
NOW | SISK
