Page 51 of The Sin Bin

"I want to see what's under these clothes," Lauren murmured against his neck, where she'd been placing hot, open-mouthed kisses. Her teeth grazed his skin, making him shudder.

"Same," Jax breathed, reluctantly lowering her back to her feet. "Bedroom?"

Lauren took his hand, leading him down the hallway to her room. She switched on a small lamp. The room reflected her—understated, elegant, with personal touches like the photographs on the walls and an overstuffed reading chair in the corner.

Turning to face him, Lauren reached for the hem of her sweater, a hint of challenge in her eyes. "You first," she said.

Jax grinned, appreciating her boldness. "If you insist," he replied, reaching behind his neck to pull his shirt off in one fluid motion.

Lauren's eyes darkened as she took in his exposed torso—broad shoulders tapering to a narrow waist, defined abs, and a trail of dark hair disappearing beneath his jeans. But it was the marks of his profession that seemed to capture her attention—the bruises, the scars, the evidence of the physical toll his career demanded.

"My turn to look at the battle scars?" he prompted when she continued staring.

Lauren blinked, a blush rising to her cheeks. "Sorry," she said, reaching out to trace a particularly vivid bruise along his ribs. "Does this hurt?"

"Not right now," Jax said truthfully. "I'm very pleasantly distracted."

Her fingers continued their exploration, trailing over a scar on his shoulder. "And this one?"

"High stick, three years ago. Twelve stitches."

"And here?" Her touch drifted to a raised line near his collarbone.

"Beer bottle. Bar fight when I was twenty-one and stupid."

Lauren raised an eyebrow. "Do all these stories involve blood and poor decisions?"

Jax laughed softly. "Most of them, yeah."

"They tell your story." Lauren said, her fingers now tracing the hard ridges of his abdomen.

"I'd like to hear yours," Jax murmured, his hand catching hers and bringing it to his lips. He kissed her palm, then turned her hand to place another kiss on the inside of her wrist, where her pulse jumped beneath his touch.

"Later," Lauren replied, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

Jax stepped closer, his hands finding the hem of her sweater. "May I?"

At her nod, he slowly lifted the garment, his knuckles deliberately grazing the soft skin of her stomach as he did so. Lauren raised her arms, allowing him to pull the sweater over her head.

The sight of her in a simple black bra, her fair skin flushed with desire, made his breath catch. "Beautiful," he murmured, his hands settling on her waist, thumbs stroking the bare skin just above her waistband.

"Your turn," Lauren said, her voice husky as her hands moved to the button of his jeans.

Jax watched, heart hammering, as she unfastened his jeans and slowly lowered the zipper. Her knuckles brushed against his erection through the denim, a touch so light it might have been accidental if not for the mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Tease," he accused softly.

"You haven't seen anything yet," Lauren promised, hooking her fingers in his belt loops and tugging him toward the bed.

They sat on the edge of the mattress, facing each other. Jax reached behind Lauren, his fingers finding the clasp of her bra. With a deftness that belied his size, he unfastened it, then slowly slid the straps down her arms.

"God," he breathed as the garment fell away, revealing her breasts. He loved that her pale pink nipples that hardened under his gaze. "I want to kiss every inch of you," he told her, his voice rough with desire.

"I'm not stopping you," Lauren replied, a tremor in her voice betraying her own need.

Jax leaned forward, his lips finding the hollow of her throat. He pressed soft kisses there, then along her collarbone, working his way down to her breast. When his mouth closed over her nipple, Lauren gasped, her fingers threading through his hair.

He lavished attention on first one breast, then the other, alternating between gentle suction and teasing flicks of his tongue. Lauren's breathing grew increasingly ragged, her hands restless in his hair, on his shoulders, urging him closer.

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