Page 58 of Heist in Paradise

He was rock hard.

I made a startled noise, and he smirked against my throat. “Problem?”

So many problems. All the problems. But what came out of my mouth was the biggest one: “I want you to touch me.”

A hungry growl rumbled from his chest. “Where?”

“Everywhere. Make me—um, finish what you started. Earlier.”

His head dipped down, danger in his eyes. “You want me to make you cum?”

Mortified, I nodded.

“You can’t even say it.”

“Can so.”

“Then say it.” His brow quirked at my embarrassment. His teeth flashed, and he kissed me again, quick, dry. “Fine. Don’t. Turn around.”

Too eager, I did. My neck prickled with awareness at the heat on my back, the gentle brush of his breath on my neck. Those rough hands positioned me, so I was facing the orange-mottled horizon. Then Jax slotted in behind me, every line of his large body pressed against mine. I felt him—all of him. His thighs, his stomach, that unforgiving bulge in between.

Was he going to bend me over the balcony? My stomach swooped, my palms instantly damp. It wasn’t that Heath and I had never experimented—we’d gone through all the positions, checked all the boxes (except well, you know, back door). It had been good. Nice. Fun.

It didn’t threaten to unspool me like this.

My body moved independently from my mind, already arching over, wanting to accept him like a feral cat in heat.

Jax dragged his hands across my belly, then down my thighs, a groan building in his throat. “Fuck. Your legs.”

“You like them?”

“You could say that.” To prove it, his fingers clamped around my flesh tightly, hard enough to bruise. When I started to squirm, he loosened his hold, but his fingers continued upwards, blazing a path to the button of my shorts. With an easy flick, they came undone. I suffered a hot flush of panic, not remembering the exact type of underwear I’d picked, but then his fingers dipped down, and I decided it didn’t matter. Softly, he parted me, exploring my tender core with near reverence.

“Have you been wet this whole time?” There was wonder in his voice. Admiration. I was too far gone to be ashamed by it.

“Shut up.”

“Jesus. So eager.” His fingers curled inwards, and I yelped, startled at the intrusion. Then I felt nothing but white-hot pleasure, the kind that thrummed down my legs and pooled in the soles of my feet. It wasn’t an orgasm, but it was close enough that I worried the real thing would kill me.

There were worse ways to go, I supposed.

Jax kicked his boot between my legs, parting them further, giving him better access. His hand started a brutal motion, circling, pressing, releasing when my hips hitched forward, chasing my release. He was drawing it out, his lips on my neck, tonguing my rabbit pulse.

“You’re already so close,” he growled in my ear. “You need it, don’t you? Admit it.”

Lust-drunk, I nodded.

His finger stopped and hovered, right where I needed him. One more touch and I’d crash over that beautiful edge. He knew it, so of course, he held it ransom, his teeth grazing my ear as he continued his filthy observations.

“If all I get is this, my fingers won’t be enough.”

“They—oh my god—they are definitely enough.” My chest heaved, my thighs twitching. I was not above begging. “Please, Jax.”

His other hand slid over my waist, pressing on the cusp of my belly. I moaned, then balked at the sensation, as the pressure somehow increased between my legs. “What—”

“I’m good with my hands,” Jax said, amused.

Good? He was goddamn biblical. With his hand on my belly, the other hovering above my throbbing clit, I was so close. Painfully close.