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There’s a pause.
“Mila, talk to me,” Jax says.
I step closer to him…
“Jax, I want you to fuck me.”
62
JAX
Any guy who hears those words from a woman and even thinks about responding… that guy is a fool and deserves to make love to his right hand for the rest of his life.
One look at Mila and I know exactly what she needs.
She’s feeling things. A lot of things.
She feels alone. She feels empty. She’s battling a sense of guilt that she knows isn’t hers to battle.
I don’t know if she’s easily read or if for some reason I can easily read her myself.
Those sweet, dirty words slipping from her lips are like poetry… even though I’m not sure I’ve ever read a fucking poem in my life.
That doesn’t matter.
What matters is this - I slide my right hand to the middle of her back and pull her into my dorm. I slowly shut the door and twist the lock.
I stare down at her and inch my mouth closer to hers.
My lips barely graze hers.
Her breath smells like sugary coffee.
A rush of blood flows down to my cock and I’m already pulsing with need.
I offer her one little kiss.
I’m not going to fuck her against the door. I’m not going to tear her clothes off piece by piece either. I’m not going to throw her down to the floor and get on top of her.
I know exactly what Mila wants.
What my girl needs.
I pick her up, facing me.
Her legs wrap around my body.
We don’t need to speak to each other from now on.
I’ve got you, honey. You’re all mine. I’ll keep you safe. I’ll keep you happy.
I take Mila to my bedroom and place her down on my bed.
I lower my mouth to hers and we kiss.
I let her control the kiss.
Slow. Soft. Almost sweet.
