Page 52 of Stick It
I shake off the grief that’s always lingering just beneath the surface, no matter how much time passes. Pasting on a smile, I gesture toward the TV. “Want to go again?”
He studies me a moment longer before answering. “Only if you promise not to shoot me this time.”
I laugh, the weighted moment leaving me. “I can’t make such a promise. Clearly, I get a little gung-ho with a gun in my hand and zombies in my face.”
“Note to self, don’t trust Dylan with a gun if the apocalypse ever arrives.”
“Har har.” I stick my tongue out at him playfully before shifting to pick up my controller from the coffee table.
Jax moves at the same time, our arms brushing. It’s a fleeting touch, but it sends a jolt of awareness through me. He notices it, too; I see the way his fingers still on the controller, his gaze dropping to where our skin touched.
As a new game loads, I’m acutely aware of how close we’re sitting. Did his leg always press against mine, or did he move closer after getting our drinks? And has his cedarwood scent clung to me all night, or has a fresh wave hit? It’s all I can smell now. Every deep inhale to cool my blood is thick with it—withhim.
The next group of zombies hits, but I barely register it. My focus is on him—on the way his profile is illuminatedby the glow of the TV, on the quiet intensity that seems to radiate from him even when he’s sitting still.
He must feel my gaze on him, as his lips quirk at one side, and his voice has dipped an octave lower when he asks, “You good over there?”
“Fine,” I answer quickly, forcing my eyes back to the screen.
But the air between us has shifted. I feel it crackling, electric and unspoken.
I try to ignore his suddenly all-consuming presence beside me, the heat radiating from him in waves. Feeling as though I can’t breathe, I lean forward. I’m staring at the screen, but I’m not intent on the game the way I was before.
A moment later, he leans forward too, bracing his elbows on his knees. Our shoulders brush once more, but this time, neither of us moves away. I glance at him out of the corner of my eye and catch him looking at me.
Illuminated only by the light from the TV, I can’t decipher his expression, but the tension radiating between us makes my breath hitch anyway. I wrench my gaze away, feeling unsteady as I stare unblinkingly at the screen and put all my focus into shooting zombies and ignoring the lingering stare of the too-attractive-for-his-own-good man pressed flush against me.
Finally, he looks away, returning his attention to the game.
I manage to push past the sudden heat that has flooded my body, the shallowness of my breathing, and the heightened awareness of how close we’re sitting as I focus on the game.
“Wow! Next level!” Grinning, I face Jax. He holds his hand out between us for a high five, and I slap my palm against his. His fingers curl around mine, entwining our hands together.
And that awareness is back.
That tingling where his palm is pressed against mine.
He shifts slightly to face me, his gaze searching mine beforedropping to my lips. We’re so close. Too close. And yet, somehow, we aren’t close enough.
“Jax.”
His name is a whisper on my lips, but I have no idea what I’m asking for. No,beggingfor.
To stop this or…
To kiss me.
To ravish me.
To give me everything he’s got.
Honestly, I don’t know who moves first, but the next thing I know, his lips are on mine, his fingers sliding through the hair at the nape of my neck and pulling me impossibly closer.
He wraps around me like a blanket, devouring me. Consuming me. Making it so I never want to come up for air.
Jax kisses exactly as you’d expect, soft yet sure. Firm but not dominating. The heat between us builds with every slide of his lips over mine. My mouth parting to grant him entry as I moan.
Desire builds in my core, rushing through my blood as I pull him closer, unable to get enough.
