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“Too late to go shy on me now,” he said.
“Is it okay if I just lie here and pretend that didn’t happen?”
“Nope, because if you pretend you weren’t peeping,” he said, giving her ass a cute squeeze and then a playful slap that forced a laugh to bubble up from her chest, “then you might want to pretend last night didn’t happen and that doesn’t work for me.”
When she didn’t move, he rolled her over, rising up between her legs. His hands on either side of her head, he slowly lowered himself, like some sort of Cross Fit plank champion going for the gold. He held steady, his biceps bulging, his stomach taut, his mouth inches from hers.
She slapped a hand over her lips. “I have morning breath.”
“I don’t give a shit.” He nipped her knuckles. “Move your hands or I will tickle you until you do.”
There was a genuine threat beneath the humor and since she was as ticklish as a jackrabbit, her arms instinctively flew to her belly, covering her ribs. His gaze followed and when it slid back up her body he smiled, the smile of someone who has dubious plans.
“I know about here.” He descended just enough to run his nose along the curve of her neck, which was one of her go spots, and she bit her lip. “And here,” he whispered, resting his weight on one arm to free up his right hand, which cupped her hip. His thumb skated lightly over her hip bone. Instead of giggling, she released a choppy breath. “Where else are you ticklish, angel?”
She pressed her lips in a not telling line.
“I see. I guess I’m just going to have to tickle every inch of you.” His fingers slid across each rib slowly. Instead of squirming, she released several gasps. “Maybe I should go lower.”
“Lower is good. I like lower.”
“Like?” He rotated his hip so that his sword grazed her sensitive flesh. She shivered. “I think we can do better than like.”
“Love. I love lower.”
He waited until she met his gaze and when she did, something in her chest shifted. Maybe she was sex-brained, but she could swear that beneath the hunger and pulsing testosterone was something soft, almost tender. This time when he lowered his head she didn’t care about awkward morning after or morning breath, all she cared about was finding out if morning sex with him was as great as nighttime sex.
She was willing to make the sacrifice.
With a groan of approval, he closed the distance between their bodies, so that all his good parts lined up with all her good parts and then his mouth was on her and—
His phone chirped.
Milly’s lids flew open. “Do you need to get that?”
His answer was to deepen the kiss until Milly’s leg swung over his hip all on its own. With a groan, he rolled over so that he was on his back, and she was straddling him—a position that, based on last night, he favored. He seemed to be an equal opportunity lover when it came to boobs and butt. He liked his hands on one while his mouth explored the other.
Ping.
She felt him hesitate, but then his hands plunged into her hair, yanking it slightly. Another thing she learned last night—Lucas Macintyre had a thing about her hair.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
“Jesus,” he said, pressing their foreheads together as they listened to his phone blow up, chirping again like an angry mama bird defending her nest.
“It might be an emergency,” she offered.
“Or it might be Nolan giving me shit for leaving him at the bar last night.”
Milly gasped. “We left him at the bar?”
“He can find his way home.” Jax flipped her over, trapping her beneath his big body and started nipping her neck. “He’s a big boy.”
Milly reached over and picked up his phone from the nightstand and pressed it to his chest. “Even so, you should always answer when it’s family.”
Because one day there won’t be any more calls.
She didn’t say it aloud, but she must have telegraphed through her expression because his eyes went soft. “I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorr—”
