“Dinner’s ready!”
The voice echoes up the stairs ruining everything.
We pull back, lips still inches apart.
I bite back a curse.
Thirty
NOW | SISK
He takes forever to answer. I regret asking, because if he says yes, I’m going to have to burn this entire apartment down. If he says no, I’m going to have to burn this entire apartment down out of sheer embarrassment. The question hangs between us now, impossible to take back.
Finally, “No.”
I’m about to say it was a joke when, “Why the fuck would I need to tie someone to my bed to keep them in place?”
I swallow hard.
“You’ve seen what I can do. If I wanted someone to stay still…” He leans closer, his mouth brushing the edge of my ear. “They wouldn’t so much as twitch without my permission.”
I inhale.
“I could pin you with a thought. Lock every limb in place. And I wouldn’t even have to touch you.”
My skin prickles. My thighs clench.
He pulls back slowly, like he knows exactly what he’s doing. The brush returns to my hair, steady now—but I can feel the shift. “Why?” Another brush stroke. “Is that something you’re into?” The question is a blade pressed to my throat.
“Maybe,” I test my luck.
“Maybe,” he echoes.
I shrug one shoulder, the movement causing the towel to shift slightly. “With the right person.”
“The right person,” he grits out. “Someone already try it on you?” The brush stills.
I don’t answer.
“You let someone tie you up?”
The possessiveness in his voice is enough to make me wet. I don’t flinch. “Would it matter if I did?”
In front of me, on the vanity, a glass trembles. I hear Scotch whine nearby. I can feel the tension radiating from Jax. “Yeah,” he says, voice rough, barely holding it together. “It would.”
“I didn’t,” I say softly.
He doesn’t move. Doesn’t relax.
“But since you know…” I go on, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands. “You have no interest in me. Isn’t that what you said last night? That you don’t want this?”
I can feel it happening—feel the room responding to him. A drawer in the corner creaks open on its own. A corner of the rug lifts and drops. I press on, reckless now. “I might actually have to go looking for someone to explore this… dark side of me.”
The bait lands. The brush doesn’t fall—it launches to the floor, flung by a force stronger than gravity.
In the next breath, his hand is in my hair, the other at my neck. He yanks my head back, so hard and fast that I see stars. My neck arches at an impossible angle, my scalp screaming, my throat exposed. The world inverts, all I see is ceiling. Then him.
Jax looms above me, upside down, every line of him carved in fury. A beautiful, brutal god of control, of rage, of something darker than either. I don’t even try to pull away.
