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My gaze lowers to her swollen lips that I want on mine again, now, and lifts. “I can see why.”
“Do you know what will make me less confused?”
“No. What?”
“If you just kiss me again.”
“And when I’m done kissing you?”
“Do you have to be done?”
I don’t need any further encouragement. I kiss her. And this time, I don’t plan to stop.
Chapter one hundred five
Jax
Iam hot, hard, and in need of this woman in ways that I have never needed in my life. Every time I think she’s taken all I have to give, she takes more. But so do I. I want it all with Emma. I want all of her and nothing less. And so, my kiss, my touch, my very breath, right here and now, is all about demand. I demand. She demands. I touch her. Her hands are all over me. We’re wild. We’re burning alive. I rotate her, and somehow, she crashes against the wall. “Oh hell. Sorry, baby.”
She laughs, that sweet sexy laugh of hers. “I like it rough.”
I laugh, and damn, it feels good. We’re back to us right now. Will it last? I hope like hell it does. I kiss her again, and we erupt into a frenzy of touching and tugging off clothing until we’re both naked. I sit down in the chair in the corner, dragging her on top of me. Her arms wrap around my neck, her sweet floral scent teasing my nostrils, clinging to my skin.
I caress a path up her spine, molding her closer. “I’m not letting you go,” I say. “That’s not happening.”
“Remember that,” she whispers. “Whatever happens. Remember that.” She reaches for my mouth, and I tangle my fingers in her hair, slanting my mouth over hers.
Awareness hits that she’s just spoken those words as if they preclude a bloody war, and maybe it will. Maybe it already has, but right now, it’s her and me, and the rest of the world doesn’t exist. Our lips collide, and when I kiss her this time, it’s with a clawing hunger for some unnamed something that only she can name. Revenge, satisfaction, grief, pain, happiness. All things lead back to Emma. She needs to save her brother. I didn’t save mine. My need for her is the only outlet for what I know is guilt. I didn’t save my brother. Ididn’tfucking save him.
I drag my mouth from hers, the taste of her, so damn sweet, so damn addictive, lingering on my lips. “Emma,” I whisper, biting back words about her brother I know she doesn’t want to hear, but I need to say them.
“Not now,” she whispers. “Just us right now.” Her lips press to mine.
Her tongue presses past my teeth, and when it touches mine, a whisper of a caress, I swear I feel that tease in the throb of my cock and the racing of my heart. I close my hand around her hair where it rests on her neck, kissing the hell out of her, and I admit that part of me is angry at her, not just myself. Why did she make me care this damn much? Why did she complicate my revenge? Another part of me thanks God that she did. I’m thinking too much, and I drive away any semblance of reality, savoring the sweetness of her on my tongue, the weight of her breasts in my hands. The sounds, those sexy sounds she makes, radiating along my nerve endings.
I dive into the here and now, and I barely remember lifting her and pressing inside her.
She slides down my cock, nice and slow, a soft moan escaping her now bruised lips, and that sound,that sound, is pure sex andfire. I thrust into her, dragging her down against me, my hand on her breast as I do, fingers pinching her nipple.
She gasps and covers my hand with hers. “Oh god,” she whispers.
Oh god, indeed.
Yes.
Hell yes.
I thrust again, and she grabs onto my shoulders, her sexy as hell body rocking against me, the sound of our pleasure and breathing echoing in the castle hallway. She wanted this to be about us, just us, and that’s what she gets. Us. Me. Her. Us. Dirty. Needy. Hungry for each other.
Lost.
Found.
That’s what I am with her, and when she gasps and her sex locks down on my cock, her fingers twisting in my hair, I am the least in control that I have been in my entire life. I lift my hips, thrusting into her, pulling her against me. That does it for her; she spasms around me, milking my cock, and dragging me into release right along with her. I shudder, my body damn near quaking. I hold her against me, time fading in and out, and no matter how hard I try to cling to the moment, to the escape, reality returns. Like a blast of cold air, the room returns. The war returns. All the unspoken words return. Words that need to be spoken.
I stand up and take Emma with me, walking down the stairs. Once we’re on the main level, I cut left and walk into the guest bathroom. I flip on the light, set Emma on the counter, and then hand her a towel. I snatch up a larger one for me and wrap it around my waist.
“I’ll grab our clothes,” I say, but when I try to turn away, she catches my arm.
