Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 44725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 44725 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 224(@200wpm)___ 179(@250wpm)___ 149(@300wpm)
Climbing into my car, I start the engine and drive purposefully a few miles below the limit. If I don’t impose this on myself, I might snap and start speeding. I never speed, never risk it, but Zoey is tempting me.
She’s saying she’s going to be three hours at least, Zoey texts, and my text-to-voice program reads out. Do you think we can behave for that long?
I smirk. Is she teasing me, trying to tempt me? Pushing the smirk away, I remind myself again that we’ve got to remain civilized until Mallory knows the truth.
That won’t be possible until Mallory, and I reveal what happened, the event that caused me to stop coming by and to only help from afar.
CHAPTER 21
Zoey
I’m outside.
My anticipation rises to absolutely nuclear levels when I read the text. I’m sitting in the living room, trying to focus on the fact that when Mom gets home, we will have to tell her the truth, but the truth is so much sweeter now than before.
Before I reply, I quickly scan the previous messages, where we reveal we want the same life and have the same vision for the future. I have to remind myself it’s real. He meant it. We’re going to be together forever.
I’ll come and let you in now, I type, then stand and look at myself in the mirror, brushing my hair down.
It’s been so long since we saw each other. A week, fine, but it might as well have been a year if the adrenalin pumping through my body is any indication. As I approach the front door, my hands are trembling. It’s not so much nerves, though there’s always some of that. It’s more like my body is priming me for what’s about to happen. We have to be good. We have to wait for Mom.
When I open the door, I barely have time to take Jaxson in with my gaze, to drink in his tall, muscular body. He’s wearing a T-shirt and blue jeans. His bare arms tense as though he’s attempting to maintain control. His eyes gleam with obsession as he rushes forward.
“Zoey,” he says huskily before kissing me.
I return the kiss, our hands already roaming all over each other. Mine smooth up his arms, fingernails trailing across his firm muscles, and then I squeeze onto his shoulders as he groans and pushes me against the wall. He braces my lower back with his hand, his palm seeming impossibly hot and volcanic, sending shimmers of lava up my back and down to my ass, coiling around my hips and teasing my sex.
“Tell me you meant it,” I moan, staring into his eyes.
He holds the position, our noses touching. We’re gazing into each other, greedily drinking in our lust, affection, and everything else, the future and our claim turning the moment even steamier.
“Every word,” he says firmly. “What about you?”
“Every. Single. Word.” I shiver as he slides his hand down my back, massaging my ass. “I can’t believe you feel the same.”
“You never have to doubt it again. You never have to worry about that. I want it all. I want you forever, and I’ll never stop.”
Jax, I’m about to say in a calming tone. We have to wait for Mom to get home.
Then he kisses me again. It’s like we can’t stop, our instincts directing us without a care about the fact Mom could return any second. She said a few hours, but that’s not a concrete plan.
As his other hand slides to my ass—he’s groaning as he massages me like he’s been waiting his whole life for this—I will my lips to form the words.
No, Jax. Mom could come home any second.
The kissing is too addictive. The texture of his lips, his taste, the hunger of his tongue as he slides it into my mouth, and I match his rhythm. Pleasure replaces the nerves, and suddenly I know I won’t tell him to stop. I can’t.
“You feel different,” he moans, his hands obsessively rubbing my ass, heating me up and getting me ready.
Now nerves try to take over, but I remember his texts. I remember why we’re doing this. I can’t think about Jax and Mom and the revelation that they might’ve been together once. I can’t think about how wrong this is, doing this here, at my house.
“Different, how?” I murmur.
“Ready, like you can let go of all those… what did you call it? V-card nerves.”
I smile, and he kisses me again. This time, he lifts me up. My legs naturally move around him. Like the last time he carried me, I feel so small and protected.
“Where’s your bedroom?” he says urgently between kisses.
We can’t do this…
“Upstairs, first door on the right.”
I squeal in delight when he changes position, lifting me easily and propping one powerful arm under my legs. He cradles my back with the other and then takes the steps two at a time.