But we don’t move.
Suddenly, we’re just staring at each other, the air between us thickening, expanding, and it doesn’t feel like it’s about sex—no, this has nothing to do with sex. Or maybe it does. It’s nothing I know, nothing I have ever experienced. He’s like nothing I have ever known. I feel him, I feel him in ways I didn’t know that you could feel a man, and it terrifies me. York hurt me. He destroyed me in ways that most can’t understand, but Jax, he affects me, he understands me—if I let Jax get close, he could destroy me in ways York never could. I don’t want him to have that power. I can’t give him that power and yet, I’m powerless to stop whatever this is between us.
A charge sparks in the air, and we snap then, kissing and touching, my fingers in his hair, tugging roughly and I don’t even care if it hurts. I hope it does. That’s what he gets for making me want him this badly, that’s his punishment, but he doesn’t let that go. His hand wraps my hair and gives an erotic tug, even as his fingers punish my nipple, the spiral of sensations flowing through to my sex, arching my hips, clenching my sex around his cock.
Jax’s tongue sweeps deep into my mouth, his hips pumping into me, hand finding my backside to pull me against a thrust, and then we are moving, swaying, fucking. Wild. Slow. Wild all over again. At some point, the wildness takes over fully and our mouths part, lips close, the two of us breathing together, breathing in each other. I don’t want this escape to end and that thought only makes me kiss him harder, move harder, touch him, everywhere. I want this to last, and I feel that in him, too, like we know reality will be harsh and cold, a divider we may not conquer, and yet, we do nothing to slow down. We’re beyond that now. But there is no staying in this place, no pleasure this good that can last forever. The next thrust of his cock undoes me, driving me to the sweet place that tenses my body into orgasm.
I call out his name, cling to him and then I’m there, my sex spasming around him, my face buried in his neck. His arm wraps around my waist, anchoring me to him, and he pumps again, a low, gruff, wholly masculine sound sliding from his lips as his entire body quakes. My nails dig into his shoulders, punishing him for letting this end, punishing him for making me want him this damn much. But then my body melts into his, and his into mine, and there is a calm perfection that follows. He rolls slightly and settles me half on top of him and half on top of the couch. I know I should get up, but I don’t and he doesn’t. His heart thunders beneath my ear, a low steady thrum that soothes and grounds me in the moment, in the man. His arm wraps around me, holding me close, almost willing me to stay just where I am, and so I do. I shut my eyes and drift into the sweet laden haze of satisfaction, relishing it, and refusing to let anything else in right now.
I lay there holding Emma, listening as she fades into sleep, thinking about everything she told me tonight, wondering what the fuck York has on her. Knowing there is far more to this than just Marion and an affair. He has something on her personally, and there’s this raging protective part of me that wants to get up now, charge to Savage’s location, and stand over him and his team until they get me answers. But that would mean letting Emma go, and as insane as it might be, considering her last name, I don’t want to let go. I’m not fucking letting go. In my gut, I think she needs me to hold on, and not just because I want her, but because she has rocked my world like no woman before her. I think Emma is in real trouble, perhaps more than she realizes, and that reminds me a little too much of what I felt with my brother, who is now dead.
It near dawn when I wake as Emma begins to make soft little sounds in her sleep. I lay there holding her, debating waking her up, not sure if this is simply a dream or a nightmare. My answer comes when she sobs and gasps for air. A moment later, she jolts upward, and I go with her, tightening my arm around her, both of us naked, but I’m not cold. She’s shivering. “God, it’s freezing in here.”