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I catch her hair in my hand, wrapping it around my fingers, rough but not too rough, and stare down at her. “You used a condom with him, but you’d fuck me without one?”
“Yes. I really just want you right now.”
“And later?”
“I think you’re different, Jax. I hope you’re different. You feel different.”
“I am different, baby.”
“Then why aren’t you inside me right now?”
“I never fuck without a condom.”
“Right.” She looks down. “That’s smart and—”
I drag her mouth to mine, and kiss the hell out of her just the way I’m going to fuck her. “I also never take women to the castle, but I’m taking you there.” I kiss her again and her hands slide under my jacket, all over my body. I nip her lip and she doesn’t hide her reaction. She pants out a breath that I swallow and holy fuck, I want inside her. I tug at my pants and she does the same. I don’t even have a clear understanding of how my cock gets out of my pants and in her hand, but hey, that works just fucking fine for me.
She kicks away her pants that are now at her ankles. I catch her knee, lift her leg, and there is no preamble to this. I press into the wet heat of her sex and then I’m inside her, and my pants aren’t even down. I carry her to the lounge chair, sit down with her still on top of me, those gorgeous legs of hers spread across me. She flattens her hands on my shoulders, and I pull down her tank top, taking the lace front of her bra with it, teasing her nipples, my head lowering, tongue lapping at one stiff peak and then the other.
She grabs my face and I know she intends to kiss me and I intend to kiss the hell out of her, but that’s not what happens. Suddenly, we’re just staring at each other, and the pull between isn’t about fucking. It’s not about sex at all. Or maybe it is. Hell,I don’t know what this is happening between us. I just know that I can’t get enough of her. I cup her head and pull her mouth to mine, cupping her breast, pinching her nipple. She moans, and I thrust into her, pulling her down on top of me. And then we are moving, swaying,fucking. Hard, wild, dirty fucking and it’s fucking perfect. This is what sex is supposed to be, but anything this fucking good can’t last. She grabs a handful of my hair, bites my damn shoulder and then spasms around my cock while rocking those hips of hers, and I groan with the impact, my orgasm ripped from me, no questions asked, no prisoners taken.
She collapses on top of me and I close my arms around her, holding onto her. “You didn’t even take off your pants,” she accuses, leaning back to look at me. “Or your jacket. Or anything.”
“I’ll make it up to you when we shower at my place.” I catch her head and pull her mouth to mine. “You can have me any way you want me.”
“And how do you want me, Jax?”
There’s an edge to her voice, a tightening of her body that shouldn’t be there in this playful exchange, but I know instantly where this comes from: York and his sick appetites.
Chapter twenty
Jax
More and more, I regret not punching York when I had the chance, but that would have given his bitch ass a chance to sue me, which no doubt was why he pointed out my professional boxing. He’ll pay for what he did to Emma, and he’ll pay in a way that hurts a man like him. I’ll take something that matters to him, starting with Emma. Emma, who is still staring down at me, waiting for me to tell her what I want from her. “I wasn’t talking about what I want. I was talking about whatyouwant.”
Her fingers curl on my chest. “But what doyouwant, Jax?”
“You,” I say simply. “I want you.” I lean forward and kiss her exposed nipple. She sucks in a soft breath, and I pull her bra and shirt back into place. “You making all of those sexy sounds you make.” I cup her head once more and kiss her, moving her past the discomfort she feels or at least trying to. “Let’s go to the hotel and take that shower. Yes?”
“Yes.”
“We have to eat,” I say, smiling against her lips. “Funny thing. I worked up an appetite. Don’t know how that happened.”
“I’m hungry, too,” she says, a small smile on her lips that I feel like a punch in the chest. Her smile. Damn, it lights me up. “I blame you.”
“I’ll take that blame.” I stroke her cheek, and I want to say more, but my gut says to move on, at least for now. I stand up and take her with me, carrying her to the bathroom and setting her on the counter.
I grab her a towel and press it between her legs, reluctantly pulling out of her, and righting my pants. Aware of my belt, of her reaction to my belt last night, as I slide it back into place. That memory and her question on the lounge chair has me saying screw it to holding back. I press my hands to the counter on either side of her. “Anything and everything with me is only what feels good to you, Emma.”
“That can’t be how this works, Jax.” She tosses the towel and grabs my belt and I don’t believe that’s an accident, which she proves by adding, “I know I react to things that I shouldn’t with you. I know and—”
“And it’s okay.” I pause, gauging my words, telling myself she’s a Knight. I need to hold back, but as I look at her, as I look in her eyes, and see the hint of past wounds there, I’m reminded of how much I understand her. And I know that’s not what she needs from me. “Look. Sweetheart. This, us, I don’t know what this is. Believe me, I’ve been asking that question in my head, but what I do know is that it’s good. It feels good and you feel good. I want you to feel the same.”
“I do. You have to know that I do.”
“No. You don’t. You don’t know that I’m safe, and I get that. I met York. I saw what he was to you.” I pick her up and set her on the floor. “I’m going to make you think about me, not him,” and then, trying to ease the mood, I add, “but to do that I need food.”
I’m rewarded with her laugh. “Food is the secret weapon.”
