“You’re giving me too much time to think,” she says, pushing off the chair, and stepping into me, her hand on my belt, tugging at it. She wants it gone, with an almost desperate need. I slide my hand under her hair, cupping her neck to bring her mouth to mine. “You want to stop thinking?”
“Yes.” She tries to rip my shirt and fails, a soft curse falling from her lips. “Why aren’t you naked yet?”
My lips quirk at her failed effort. The woman is adorably sexy, but I don’t dare laugh. Instead, I unbutton the necessary buttons and tug my shirt over my head, tossing it aside. Before it ever hits the ground, her hands are all over my body and if she keeps touching me like this, I won’t last. She might forget what pains her, but not for long. Not if I don’t slow her down.
I cup her head and kiss the hell out of her, the kind of kiss that leaves no room for anything but the kiss. She moans into my mouth and strokes the line of my zipper down my pants, her fingers teasing the line of my cock that’s so damn hard it’s nearly painful. I reach down and unclip the front clasp of her bra, and then caress the straps away from her shoulders, my gaze raking hotly over her high breasts and puckered nipples.
Fuck. I want to fuck. Hard, dirty fucking, here, now, and then repeat. I cup her breasts, pinching her nipples between my fingers, even as I press her against the chair again. “What are you thinking now?” I demand, but I don’t give her time to reply. I kiss her, and while her tongue is playing with mine, my hand grips the lace between her thighs and I rip it away, reveling in the yelp that follows. “What are you thinking now?” I demand again, my fingers sliding along the wet heat of her sex.
“I loved those panties,” she pants out.
“I’ll buy you a new pair.”
“I loved those panties.”
“I’ll make it worth your while,” I promise, pressing her hands to the chair again. “This time, don’t move.”
“Or else what?” she asks again.
“My tongue will stay in my mouth when it could be on your body.” I kiss her and back away, putting enough distance between us to waste no time removing my pants, aware of her eyes on my body, on the jut of my thick erection. I grab my wallet and pull out the condom stashed there.
“Always prepared, right?” she asks, her body bared for me, her breasts high and full, but her eyes filled with judgment I’m not going to let go.
“My daddy told his boys to always be prepared.” I rip open the package. “I like to fuck, not get fucked, which means a condom.” I roll it into place.
She cuts her stare and I close the space between us, catching her chin and forcing her gaze to mine. “What just happened?”
“Just fuck me already, will you? It’s what you want. It’s what I want. And I’m thinking too much again, Jax.”
“That’s not an answer,” I say, my hand finds its way under the long silk of her dark hair and cups her neck again, dragging her mouth to mine. “What just happened?”
“A lecture I don’t need.”
“Just making sure you know I’m safe.”
“Are you?” she challenges. “Safe?”
I opened this door. I walked right into it and I can’t seem to make it a room of lies. “I’m a loyal friend and a dangerous enemy. So am I safe, Emma?”
“You hate my family. No. No, I don’t think you’re safe at all.”
“Then why am I here?”
“Because I want you here. Now you answer the same question. Why are you here, Jax?”
And there it is, the question I should be asking myself. Why the hell am I here, getting naked with a Knight? I’m playing a dangerous game and somehow, innocent or not, Emma is in the middle of it. It doesn’t matter, though. When this is over, she’ll hate me, but that just makes the here and now matter more. And so, I give her the most honest fucking answer I have to give. “Because I damn sure want to be, Emma.” I lean in and press my mouth to hers, my tongue licking into her mouth, kissing her deeply, passionately, my hands roaming her body, touching her freely, her breasts, her nipples. We touch each other and every plan I have to go slow is now all about fast. I lift her leg, sliding my throbbing cock along her core and pressing into her. Thrusting deep. Hard. Burying myself to the furthest part of her. And then we’re just staring at each other, fucking staring when we should be fucking, but we’re not. We’re still, utterly still, lost in that connection that I’ve felt with her from the moment she sat down at my table. That connection that I want to blame on grief expands and damn near suffocates me. My heart is thundering in my ears, adrenaline rushing through me, heat in my chest that I don’t want to feel. But if this is about shared grief, the very grief at the root of what may separate us, right now in this moment, we’re alive, we’re together, we’re what matters, and in that realization, I snap. We snap.