Page 32 of First in Line

“Don’t marry him,” he repeats, his lips now pressing onto the side of my neck, which sets my insides aflame.

Seven years. He hasn’t touched me in seven years, and it’s all coming back to me at once. I suddenly remember why I was so willing to give him the world. Why I married him so young. Why there’s nothing I wouldn’t have done for this man.

One of his big hands slithers to my front to rest right over my heart, curving on the underside of my breast. Can he feel the way the pulsing organ slams against my ribs? Can he sense the frenzied state I’m struggling to contain?

It’s as though I’m awakening after a long slumber. I feel alive all over, like he jump-started my entire body.

He thrusts into me with his hips, barely, but enough to have my inside fluttering at the threat. Or is it a promise?

“Jax …” I beg.

“Yes, princess?” he purrs in my ear, meeting my gaze in the mirror.

“I … I—”

I don’t want this. But every cell in me craves it.

And he must sense it, because his free hand slowly makes it way down, toward the spot that’s aching for his touch. He was always so good with his fingers. From that first time in the crappy theater, when I let him touch me there. He figured out exactly what I needed, slowly, patiently, giving me my first orgasm ever.

What took us half an hour the first time wouldn’t even require thirty seconds now. I’d shatter so fast on his fingers. But I can’t. I shouldn’t. No matter how good it’ll feel. No matter how desperately I need it.

“Jackson, please…” I beg again, hoping he can find the strength to let me go. The strength I should have to push him away.

But he’s a lost cause, as much as I am.

“I missed you,” he rasps in my ear. “I missed you so much, Evie…”

The moment he cups my sex with his broad palm and fingers, my knees buckle. My entire body jolts in his embrace, a small cry ripping out of me at the electrifying sensation.

This is insane. I can’t let him finger me in the ladies’ room of some overpriced restaurant. Even though I’m experiencing more pleasure than I have in years, I can’t let him do this. Anyone out there could hear us. There are so many people on the other side of that door.

Including Nathan.

The reminder acts like a merciless cold shower. The haze of lust Jax so effortlessly wove around me dissipates, and all I can see in the mirror is a shameless woman about to cheat on her fiancé. On the man she loves. The man she wants to marry.

“Jackson, stop,” I demand, my voice as weak as my apparent values.

I’m not sure if he hears me, but the finger between my legs draws an agonizingly precise circle exactly where I need it. A minute. Less than that. It’s all I’d need to come, to tremble and writhe with uncontrollable pleasure against him.

And I want it so much. I want to experience such heights again. But I can’t. I shouldn’t.

“Jax, I don’t want this,” I say, louder.

He lets me go almost immediately, taking a step back. We stare at each other through the reflection, panting and overheated. I don’t turn around. I can’t face him right now. Instead, I stare at him in the mirror, bringing my hand to my lips, struggling to process the whiplash of what just happened. Whatalmosthappened. His eyes are so dark with need that the color difference is almost impossible to see.

What have we done? What the heck was that?Whydidn’t I fight him more?

He gathers himself before I do. “Now what?” he asks, his voice so low I can feel it vibrate all over me.

“Now nothing. Nothing happened.”

He cocks an eyebrow at me, disagreeing with my stance. “We were seconds away from fucking each other’s brains out, Evangeline.”

“We weren’t. We didn’t even kiss.” Again, my logic doesn’t seem to work for him. “I’m not a cheater.”

“How would that work, anyway? Cheating on your fiancé with your husband. You hear how that sounds?”

“You shouldn’t even be in here!” I hiss, suddenly mad at him.