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She moans, a soft, sweet, drive-me-fucking-wild moan, that has me pressing her forward, arching her hips and settling the thick ridge of my erection into just the right spot. My cellphone rings, and I want to throw the thing across the room. I catch the hem of Emma’s blouse and pull it from her skirt. “Jax,” she murmurs, catching my hands. “Your phone.”
“Fuck my phone and my damn brother for what he did to you tonight.” I lean in and kiss her. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”
“So are you,” she replies, and that’s all I need.
I turn her and pull my jacket off her shoulders, tossing it to the ground. My phone stops ringing, thank fuck. My hand goes to the zipper on her skirt, tugging it down. She glances over her shoulder. “Here?”
This room might not be the fanciest, it’s a basement entry off a garage outside the door to the left, but it’s just fine for fucking. “Here,” I say, sliding her skirt over her hips, watching it fall to the ground, pooling at her ankles. I lift her and kick it away, and she loses her heels in the process, which is only slightly disappointing. I set her back down, and my gaze rakes over her perfect round backside, and I give it a smack.
She yelps, and I find myself smiling, despite all the hell of this night, I turn her around again, pressing her against the wall, kissing her before she can speak, before she can object, not that I think she’s of that mindset at all. “For me,” I say, repeating my earlier words, and damn it to hell, I feel this woman in ways I didn’t know I could feel anyone. I didn’t want this. Ever. But it’s too late. I want her. I want her to the point that I can’t be without her. “Don’t move,” I order softly, before I settle on my knees in front of her, my hand closing around the slice of lace between me and her. My eyes meet hers, and I yank her panties away, shoving them in my pants pocket.
“I can’t believe you just did that,” she whispers.
My hands come down on her hips. “Believe it, baby.” I lean in and kiss her belly, a tremble sliding through her as my gaze lifts and collides with hers. And holy hell, there it is again. That punch I feel when I look at her. And holy hellagain, there goes my phone ringing for a second time. I grimace and fight the urge to throw it across the damn room. I lean in to lick Emma, and she catches my shoulders. “Before you do what you’re about to do and make me not care anymore, answer the call, Jax. What if it’s Savage or your brother, and they show up here?”
My jaw clenches with how damn right she is, and I squeeze my eyes shut. My phone stops ringing, but this time, it starts all over again immediately. I lean in and lick Emma’s clit, making damn sure she knows where my mouth plans to be and soon. She sucks in a breath, and it about kills me to leave her like that. Forcing myself to stand up, I kiss her hard and fast, my legs shackling her legs. “That was to make sure you stay ready for me.” My phone has stopped ringing and started yet again, and with a curse, I reach in my pocket and pull out my phone to find Savage’s number. “You were right,” I say, glancing at Emma. “It’s Savage.” I punch the Answer button. “This better be good.”
“Your fucktard of a brother parked down the road at some giant ass tree and got out. He’s standing there doing nothing. For like half an hour now.”
My jaw clenches, and I push away from Emma, giving her my back, emotion punching at me. The tree my mother took us to when we were kids. Damn it to hell. I know what that spot means to him. I know what it means to me. What it meant to Hunter before he ended up in the damn ground.
“Just make sure he doesn’t get back into the castle,” I bite out. “And don’t call me unless he shows back up here.” I hang up and shove my phone back inside my pocket.
I place my hands on my hips and suck in a breath, looking skyward and forcing back the clawing sensation that doesn’t want to let go.
“What just happened?” Emma asks from behind me, and I turn to find her grabbing her skirt.
That’s all it takes to jolt me back to the here and now. “Oh no,” I say, closing the small space between us, and in a quick move, I pull her close and throw her skirt to die on the floor with my jacket. “You aren’t getting dressed. In fact, you still have on too many damn clothes.”
“What just happened?” she repeats.
I’m not about to tell her that my brother is lurking nearby, not after he pulled that crap tonight. My fingers slide under her hair, and I lean in close. “We were interrupted needlessly,” I say. “That’s what happened.”
“Talk to me,” she says. “I mean if you want to. I feel—”
“Good. Really fucking good, which is why I’m doing this.” I pick her up and throw her over my shoulder. She yelps again, so I smack her bare butt once more.
“Jax! My God, what are you doing?”
“Making sure you don’t get dressed,” I say, starting up the stairs, my fingers flexing on her backside. “I may never give you your skirt back.”
She laughs, a sweet, beautiful laugh that I feel in my groin and chest. “You’re crazy, Jax.”
For her, I think, which is why I don’t stop walking. I keep climbing until we enter the kitchen, a room with low beams, and a long stone island that my mother loved like she loved that damn tree. The pans dangling above it, hers. They’re still her damn pans. Why haven’t I replaced the pans? But I know why. They represent memories. So many fucking memories. Memories tearing me apart right now. And memories are all I have left of her, but Emma, Emma is here now, and I want her to stay here, so I walk under a stone archway and up another set of stairs, toward my bedroom.
Chapter forty-nine
Emma
We’re both laughing when Jax sets me down at the end of a bed, on top of a soft rug in the middle of a dimly lit bedroom, his hands at my waist steadying me; a narrow fireplace that covers most of a wall glows to life. Beyond that, I see nothing else about my surroundings. My eyes are on Jax—on this man who seems to consume me as easily as he draws a breath. Our eyes collide, and just that easily, our laughter fades, something hotter and far more turbulent brewing between us.
I press my hand to his chest. “What happened down there?”
His hand slides to cup the back of my neck, and he drags me to him. “God, woman,” he murmurs, and the words are low, guttural. “My brother isn’t a killer, he’s not, but for just a moment, in my mind’s eye, I saw you go over the ledge together, and I swear I stopped breathing.”
I don’t know what this has to do with that call that upset him, but I’m pretty sure everything. “He hates me.”
“And what do you think I feel, Emma?”
