Page 93 of The Vigilante's Lover
Oh my God.
My breath comes in a great gasp, and Jax pulls away. His face looms over mine, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. The room is dark, only a nightlight by the bed providing the faintest glow. I can’t see his eyes, only the dim planes of his face. He looks angry. Intense. Like a monster in the dark.
But I’m not afraid.
He tries to pull away, but I snake my arms around him and holdfast.
“I won’t take advantage of your innocence,” he says.
“You’re not,” I tell him.
Now he’s even angrier. “Did Klaus do the job, then?”
I don’t know what he’s asking. “What job?” I ask.
He shakes his head slowly. “How can you be so seductive and so naive at the same time?” His voice cuts me with its anger and coldness.
I let go of him. “I never understand you.” I walk over to the corner of the bed and sit down, feeling defeated and lost. “You pull me close. You push me away.”
My heart still pounds like a frightened rabbit. I touch my lips, hot and swollen. And my cheek, tender from his stubble. I don’t feel adventurous and strong anymore. I’m like a little girl, scolded by a parent.
The bed is elaborate, with a roof and curtains pulled back with a sash. I lie on my side and pull my knees up to my chest. “Take your stupid car,” I say. “Just leave me here. I’ll figure something out.” I can go back to community college. Abandon the house. Let the town have it. I don’t care.
Find some normal boy. Somebody like that grocery sacker, calm and easy. No hooded eyes and spy gadgets and secure silos and jumping into rivers. No stripping me and drinking Old Fashioneds and having women dress me in red lingerie.
No ropes.
Actually, maybe I’ll keep the ropes.
Jax hasn’t moved, or at least I assume he hasn’t. My eyes are squeezed closed and the room is dark anyway. I haven’t heard his footsteps.
“Mia,” he says. His voice is different now. Instead of cold, it’s like the rumble of a race car, low and powerful.
I don’t answer. I can’t manage his crazy moods. “You’re worse than a girl,” I say, not caring anymore if I make him mad. “Changing your mind all the time.”
I don’t hear a sound, but I know he’s moved close. His body gives off heat even though we have no contact.
Every part of my body senses his nearness. It’s like I’m humming from the inside out, vibrating, anticipating. I lie very, very still so I don’t accidentally touch him with my own movement.
The first thing that shifts is my hair. He’s brushing it away from my face, his touch as light as air. My scalp tingles. Then his fingertips caress my cheek.
I hold my breath again. We only connect in this barest of contacts, but somehow, my entire body responds. A swirl of tension starts to form low in my belly.
“Breathe, Mia,” he whispers. His face is much closer than I expected. I can feel his words whisper against my forehead.
Then his lips are there, pressed against my skin. A hand on my shoulder guides me so that I roll onto my back.
“I just want to see you again,” he says.
I hear a click and a light illuminates his face. He’s holding some sort of flat device that is as bright as the moon. He sets it on the table beside the bed. Now one side of us is softly lit, and the other falls to darkness.
I want to ask him if he’s going to tie me up, if that’s what he likes. But my throat is tight and dry. This isn’t going to stop, I can tell, and a tendril of fear slips through me. Not at what we’ll do, or if it will hurt. But that I will be a disappointment to him, and then he will send me away again.
“Do you have the rope?” I ask him. This is one place where I feel confident that I can stand apart from the untold numbers of women he has certainly taken to bed. I glance up at the curtains pulled back on the bed. There is a sash.
His eyebrow lifts and he suppresses a smile a little too late for me to not notice it. “Is that what you like?”
“I don’t know.” I hesitate. “I liked what we did before. In the barn.”
