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“What is that supposed to mean?”

“It means that my words aren’t empty, and I mean everything I say. I won’t sugarcoat things for you and make this easier for your benefit or anyone else’s.”

“Do you even know what it’s like to feel emotions? Have empathy or care for someone?” I ask, and his face twitches.

“Of course I do. I’m not a complete monster,” he snaps.

“Why are you getting angry with me? You have no right to be angry at me. I haven’t done anything to you,” I snap back at him. He looks at me like I’ve done the worst to him, and it pisses me off that I can’t see inside of his head. “You shoved yourself into my life! I just gave my friend the boot for you to talk, so talk.”

“Why?”`

“Why what?”

“Why do you care?”

“Call it curiosity,” I quip.

“It’s more than that,” he whispers as he closes the door with his boot. Jax invades my privacy and pushes a black strand of hair behind my ear.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Your mind and body are playing tricks against one another. Your mind wants me to stop, but your body is begging for me. It remembers me,” he says with a hushed tone. He leans his head down into the crook of my neck and flicks his tongue out against my skin, slick and cold. Shivers run down my spine.

“Stop,” I try to say, but it sounds more like a moan.

“See what I mean, baby,” he mocks. He holds me hostage by my hair at the base of my skull, pressing our chests together. My nipples harden with the force he uses on me, and I silently curse my body and fucked up fantasies.

“Say whatever it is you came here to say,” I plead.

“Who says I even came here to talk? Who says I didn’t come here just to wrap you around my cock?”

“I won’t,” I state.

“Oh, baby. You’re wrong because you’re going to be withering with the need for me,” he coos as he presses his erection into my hips.

I squirm and struggle under his hold as I fight for freedom. Jax pushes me backward with his body until my behind meets the edge of the couch. With ease, he turns me around so my ass feels the hard length of him. His fingers loosen around my hair before he lets me go completely. Fingers trail down my skin. He grips my waist and bends me over.

“I’m sure if I felt between your legs, your panties would be ruined,” he grunts as he pushes his hips into me. And I hate that he’s right. If he slipped his fingers down, down, down, he would find I’m a sopping, slippery mess.

I continue to fight against him, but I’m not sure why. His strength is too much, and clearly, we both know I want this. He knows that I want it taken from me. But desperately, I want answers, too. “Don’t,” I gasp, but I can’t lie to him. If he looked into my eyes, he’d see the lies written in my irises.

I look over my shoulder at him. He’s almost more terrifying to see without a mask or disguise. All raw emotions.

“If you’re going to take it from me, at least be a man and look at me,” I argue. Jax chuckles deeply as he finds a handle on my hair once more. He yanks me back, and it shoots a paint right to the top of my head. And it sickens me to think that it only makes me more wet.

He drags me to the bedroom, and each time he tugs, I whimper.

Jax kicks the bedroom door fully open with his foot, talking careful steps inside, and his free hand shoves the blanket and books from my bed.

“Get on the bed, face the TV, and get on all fours,” he orders as he lets go of my hair, giving me a slight push. Instead of listening, I run.

“Luna!” He roars from behind me. His voice is deep and menacing, laced with impatience, but it only heightens my excitement. This is sick. I’m not right in the head. I barely make it out of my apartment door, swinging it open before the bang of it closing rattles my bones. He pulls me back to the bedroom, the same as before, pulling my hair. Butterflies float in my belly, making me feel so fucking alive.

“No. On the fucking bed,” he barks. I listen this time because he genuinely sounds angry. There’s a look on his face that I can’t quite read.

He moves my large body mirror to line up with me, and when I tilt my head up, my reflection stares back at me. My hair is a mess, but I'm not anywhere near destroyed— yet.

“Strip, baby,” Jax says much softer than his last words. And I do. Slowly, giving him a show as he undresses, too. I could drool.