Page 12

"Food's ready." His voice, easy, from the kitchen, and I step back from the mantle fast, like I got caught reading his diary.

I don't ask him about it. I'm too much of a coward.

We eat and it’s good, aggravatingly good. He’s just perfect at everything.

Jax tells me a story about Ryker gluing Mason's spare skates to the locker room ceiling that has me laughing so hard I nearly inhale my wine.

Somewhere in the middle of it all, I forget to be nervous or scared. I forget this is a transaction.

I forget the man refilling my glass is supposed to be a lesson and not the recurring dream I’ve been having since I was a teenager.

That’s the danger. Not the sex. This. The way he watches me laugh like he’s collecting each one and saving it for later.

When the plates are cleared he doesn't head for the bedroom, which is somehow worse. Am I supposed to initiate because I don’t think I can do it.

A low song unspools from a speaker and he holds out his hand, palm up.

"Dance with me."

"That wasn't in the syllabus. Dancing."

"I'm amending the syllabus." His fingers fold over mine and he reels me in slowly until I'm flush against him, his other hand splaying wide and warm at the base of my spine.

I tip my head all the way back to meet his eyes.

"You can't learn a man's hands if you're scared of them. So we start here. You need to get used to me touching you."

We sway. That’s all. His thumb draws slow circles against my spine and my breath goes thin.

I feel every inch of the distance I have to climb to reach his mouth. And I want to close the distance.

With him so close, he’s a furnace, and my body settles into the warmth and the space he makes for me.

His breath stirs my hair. "You're shaking."

"I'm cold."

"Liar." I feel the smile land against my temple. "Nothing we do is going to hurt you, Callahan. I've got you. We don't do one single thing you don't ask me for and we’ll go slow."

I make myself brave. I can’t show I’m afraid or he’ll back out of my part of the deal.

"I didn't come here to slow dance, Jax." I pull back just far enough to find his eyes. "Show me the rest.” I stutter a bit… “Take me to the infamous bedroom."

Something flares in his gaze, dark and starving, but his voice stays low and unhurried. "Say it like you mean it."

I steady myself. I know he needs me to be sure. I won’t stutter this time. "Take me to bed. That's a direct order from your handler."

His laugh comes out rough. "Yes, ma'am."

His bedroom is dark and simple. Very sparse. Making his king size bed stand out. Or I’m just nervous and it’s all I can see.

He kisses me.

Not the careful question like our first and only kiss.

This is a man who’s finished waiting, and I feel the difference in the first second of it, in the way his mouth closes over mine like he has thought about this and has run clean out of patience.

His lips are soft and warm, coaxing at first, unhurried, and then a hand curls around my jaw and tilts my head.