Total pages in book: 213
Estimated words: 202770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1014(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 676(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 202770 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 1014(@200wpm)___ 811(@250wpm)___ 676(@300wpm)
“How can you know? How can either of us trust the other? I’m a strong person, Jax. I had to be in this family, but sometimes being strong means knowing when to say no. I told you. I don’t have the emotional capacity to get hurt right now. I will help. I’ll help you any way I can, but I can’t do this, us, now.” I try to move away from him.
He catches my hip and his touch sears me, and I have never been so conflicted about a man. I want him to hold me. I want him to let me go. “Considering who you are, I took that risk talking to you about this, Emma, and now you’re running again? Is that what you want to do right now? Do you really want to leave?” He releases me and steps back, the space between us small but suddenly it feels like miles.
“I’m not running, Jax.”
“You’ve been running since the moment I met you, Emma. I’m not. I’m standing here, asking you to do this, whatever the fuck this is, with me, despite the fact that you’re a damn Knight. My brother is dead because of the Knights. I know it. I feel it in every part of me and yet I’m right here, with you. If that means nothing to you, then go. If that offends you, then go. I’m going to take my damn shower.” He turns to walk away.
My heart squeezes with the intensity of his emotions, with the depth of his emotions. And in that moment, him letting me go is him giving me a choice and I make it. I launch myself at him, catching his arm. “Jax. I’m not running. I want—”
He rotates to face me, and his hand slides under my hair, settling on my neck, dragging my lips a breath from his. “You want what, Emma?”
“You,” I whisper. “I want you.” His mouth closes down on mine and with the first long stroke of his tongue I’m lost, so very lost.
I lean into his hard body, into the kiss, and just that easily we’re all over each other. I know nothing but his hands, his body, his mouth. And yet, I want to know more, so much more. I grab his shirt and tug. He snags the hem of my hoodie and pulls it over my head. It’s barely hit the ground when his mouth is back on my mouth and he’s attempting to tug down my sweats.
I catch his hand. “You take your pants off or we don’t do this. I’m not going to be naked alone this time.”
He kisses me again and reaches for his shirt, pulling it over his head even as I shove my pants down, taking care of my shoes while I’m at it. Jax reaches for his pants, and I pull my shirt over my head. We watch each other undress, heat radiating between us and then he’s naked—holy wow, he’s naked. I don’t know how I’ve forgotten in a few short hours how gorgeous he is, but I’m reminded now and reminded well. He stands before me, long, lean and muscular, his cock thickly veined and jutting forward. The man is perfection, sporting the kind of ripped body that comes from good genes and hard work. He’s sin, satisfaction, and temptation. A man who could be my enemy who is now stepping toward me and this is my last chance to walk away. I feel that deep inside me. If I move forward, if I stay, I’m with Jax, and I will live with every consequence that will follow, and there will be consequences.
To hell with consequences.
Jax steps to me and folds me close, his mouth on my mouth, one of his hands squeezing the delicate skin of my backside while the other is raising my leg, and then he’s inside me, pressing deep, filling me, stretching me. He lifts me, and my legs wrap around his hips. He turns, his body settling against the wall beneath the windows, our anchor, and I grind into the thrust of his hips, the jut of his cock driving into me.
My fingers wrap long blond strands of his hair, my lips at his ear, on his neck. I can’t get enough of him, as if he fills a need I have long had and finally, only he can satisfy what is missing in me. He seems to know. “Lean back, Emma,” he says, his fingers splaying between my shoulder blades.
I inch back to look at him and our eyes lock and hold. “I won’t let you fall,” he promises. “I won’t let you get hurt.”
I know forced trust during sex. I know it well, but this is about so much more than sex. And this is Jax, not York. I trust Jax, at least in this intimate way. I trust this man I have only known a few days, a man who has reason to hurt me, more than I did my fiancé. That means something, and later, later, maybe I’ll tell myself not to make it mean too much, but it does. Right now, it does. I lean back, and I push against him as I do. He grips my hip and thrusts, his heated gaze raking over my breasts as they sway with our bodies. And it takes nothing, nothing to push me to the edge. I shatter.