Page 41 of The Sin Bin

Lauren's fingers tightened around his.

"The first time I hit back, I was sixteen. He was coming at my mom with a broken bottle." Jax's voice had dropped to almost a whisper. "I put him through the coffee table. He needed seventeen stitches."

"Jax," Lauren breathed, her free hand reaching across the table to touch his face.

"After that, I was afraid of what I could do. What I was capable of." His eyes met hers. "Hockey gave me a place where that capacity for violence had boundaries. Where it protected people instead of hurting them."

Lauren's palm was warm against his cheek, her touch like an anchor. "That's why you're so gentle with the animals at the shelter," she said softly. "Why you brought in that kitten at two in the morning."

Something tight in Jax's chest loosened at her words, at being seen so clearly. "Maybe," he admitted. "I never really thought about it."

"Thank you for telling me," she said, her voice steady despite the brightness in her eyes. "For trusting me with that."

Jax turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against her palm in a gesture that was half gratitude, half something deeper. "Thank you for asking," he replied. "For wanting to understand."

The moment stretched between them, charged with potential, with unspoken possibilities. Jax studied the curve of her lips, the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the way her blonde hair caught the dim light.

"Jax," she said softly, her free hand still caressing his face, fingertips tracing the line of his jaw with gentle curiosity.

The sound of his name on her lips, the tentative exploration of her touch—it was his undoing. With careful deliberation, giving her every opportunity to pull away, Jax leaned across the small table. Her eyes met his, unwavering, before they drifted closed as his lips finally found hers.

The kiss was gentle at first, a question rather than a demand. Her lips were soft beneath his, yielding but not passive as she responded with equal care. When her hand slid to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his short hair, Jax deepened the kiss, tasting the faint sweetness of the orange juice and something else, something uniquely Lauren.

His hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking along her jawline as their lips moved together with increasing hunger. When her mouth parted beneath his, the first touch of her tongue against his sent heat coursing through him, fierce and demanding.

Time seemed to slow, the world narrowing to the points where they connected—lips, hands, the shared breath between them. When they finally parted, Jax rested his forehead against hers, unwilling to move too far from this newfound closeness.

"I've been wanting to do that f all night," he admitted, voice rough with emotion.

"Why didn't you?"

"The boys would’ve been brutal."

She laughed softly, the sound warming him from the inside out. Then, with a boldness that surprised and delighted him, she rose from her chair and moved around the table, never releasing his hand.

"Come here," she said simply, tugging him to his feet.

Jax followed willingly, allowing her to lead him to the couch where she settled beside him, close enough that her thigh pressed against his.

"This feels..." Lauren began, then paused, searching for the right word.

"Unexpected?" Jax suggested.

"Yes," she agreed. "But also surprisingly right."

The simple honesty of the statement resonated deeply with Jax. "I know exactly what you mean," he said, his arm draping carefully along the back of the couch behind her, not quite touching but close enough that she could feel his warmth. "When I brought that kitten into your clinic, I never imagined we'd end up here."

"On my couch after a charity gala, talking about our childhoods?" Lauren's smile was teasing, but her eyes were soft as they held his.

"Something like that," Jax agreed, his fingers tentatively brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face. "Though I'll admit, I hoped we might."

Lauren leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. "Despite my initial judgment?" she asked, a hint of apology in her voice. "I wasn't exactly welcoming that first night."

"You were protective," Jax corrected. "Of your patients, of your boundaries. I respected that." His voice dropped lower, more intimate. "Still do."

She studied him for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. "You're not at all what I expected."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" he asked, genuinely wanting to know.

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