Page 79 of The Sin Bin

"Where are you going?" he said in a strangled voice.

"Don't move. Be right back." She came back with a condom.

He watched her with hooded eyes and she rolled it down his thickness.

Jax guided her back to straddle him, keeping his injured side protected while giving her control of their positioning.

"Like this?" she asked, settling above him, her body poised to take him in.

"Perfect," he confirmed, his hands at her hips, supporting but not directing.

Lauren reached between them, guiding him to her entrance before slowly sinking down, taking him inch by inch until they were fully joined. The sensation was exquisite—the fullness, the stretch, the completeness of their connection.

"Okay?" she gasped out, checking his expression for any sign of discomfort as she began to move, establishing a slow, deliberate rhythm.

"Better than okay," Jax assured her, his voice husky with desire. One hand remained at her hip, the other moving between them to where they were joined, his thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves that made her throw back her head in ecstasy.

Lauren lost herself in the dual sensations, her movements growing more urgent as pleasure built within her. Jax watched her with undisguised wonder, his gaze traveling from where their bodies joined to her flushed face, as though memorizing every detail of her pleasure.

"You're incredible," he murmured, his voice tight with restraint. "The way you feel, the way you move..."

His words, combined with the increasing pressure of his touch, pushed Lauren closer to the edge. She leaned forward, careful of his ribs, capturing his mouth in a kiss that conveyed her mounting need.

"Let go," Jax encouraged in between druggingly sweet kisses. "I've got you."

The simplicity of his promise undid her completely. Lauren shattered around him, waves of pleasure coursing through her as she called his name, her body clenching around his in rhythmic pulses.

Before she'd fully recovered, Jax shifted slightly beneath her, the subtle movement changing the angle of their connection and sending aftershocks of pleasure through her over sensitized body. His pace increased, his control visibly slipping as he approached his own release.

Lauren leaned forward, her lips at his ear. "Come for me," she whispered. "I've got you too."

With a deep groan, Jax tensed beneath her as pleasure claimed him. Afterward, they remained joined, Lauren's forehead resting against his as their breathing gradually steadied. The tenderness of the moment—the quiet intimacy that followed passion—felt almost more significant than the physical act itself.

"Your ribs?" she asked eventually, professional concern returning as she carefully disentangled herself.

"Worth it," Jax replied with a satisfied smile, drawing her against his uninjured side as they settled back on the couch.

Lauren nestled against him, her head finding the perfect spot on his shoulder, her hand resting over his heart where she could feel its steady rhythm beneath her palm. His breathing soon evened out and he was asleep.

"I'm falling in love with you," she whispered, testing the words in the safety of his unconsciousness, feeling their truth settle into her bones.

Beside her, Jax's arm tightened almost imperceptibly, though his breathing remained deep and even. Lauren smiled to herself, content to let the confession hang in the air between them—unacknowledged but present, like the first ray of dawn before the sunrise.

As she drifted toward sleep herself, she thought fleetingly of the magazine article, the hashtag, the public attention now fixed on their relationship. For the first time, she wondered if perhaps it was worth it—worth stepping into his world, with all its scrutiny and exposure, if it meant having moments like this.

#BeastAndTheBeauty. The phrase floated through her mind as sleep claimed her. Maybe there were worse things to be called, after all.

Chapter Eighteen

Jax

"Deeper knee bend, Thompson! You're babying those ribs."

Coach Vicky's voice cut through the rhythmic scrape of skates on ice. Jax gritted his teeth and dropped lower into his stance, ignoring the sharp protest from his left side. Three days after Montreal, the bruise had faded to a sick yellow-green mess, but the deep tissue pain still felt like a knife between his ribs with every crossover.

He pushed harder into the lateral drill, focusing on his edges rather than the pain. Seven games left in the regular season. No time for weakness.

"Better," Vicky barked as he completed the sequence with proper form. "That's what I need tomorrow. Clean transitions. Solid edges."

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