Page 67 of The Last Second Chance
She wrapped the towel around her and he saw the first apprehension in those warm brown eyes. But it was gone just as quickly as it had come. And then she put her hands on his shoulders.
He watched himself, as if from a great distance, lift her out of the tub.
She shivered against him from the cold, from the heat. And then her mouth was on his. And there was no more winter night, only that scorching flame.
Jax slid his hands under the towel, palms skimming her perfect ass. He gripped and lifted, pulling her up. Her legs wrapped around his waist, hands dove into his hair. Their mouths fused in fire.
Blindly, he carried her to the door reveling in the feel of her wrapped around him. Her lips crushed hungrily against his. He dove into the kiss, the fire. And when she opened for him, when her tongue stroked his, he felt another piece of his soul loosen and break free.
She could have it. She could have it all. Every broken piece of him. And once she had them all, she could put him back together or scatter them to the wind. It didn’t matter. All that did matter was that he gave her everything.
She groaned against him. “Door, Jax,” she murmured.
“Sorry,” he whispered, peeling her off the frosty glass and shoving the door open. Something crashed to the floor, pieces splintering.
Waffles danced out of their path as they reeled past. Jax paused by the table, debating bedroom or fire. Proximity won.
He carried her over to the stone hearth, his shin smarting as it smacked into the coffee table. He kicked the table out of the way and something else fell to the floor.
In the fire’s warm glow, Joey unwound her legs from his waist, and he reluctantly let her slide down. When she took a step back, Jax snagged her wrist. He couldn’t stand to not touch her.
“Stay, please.” If she went too far, the spell would be broken.
Watching him, she gave the towel she wore one swift tug, sending it to the floor. She stood before him, naked and proud.
Jax dropped to his knees and rested his forehead against her taut stomach. She was a queen, a witch, and he was her devoted servant. He breathed her in. Joey wasted no time with perfumes or scented lotions. Her own scent was spellbinding, all smoke and fire and earth. There was no one like her in the world.
She nudged his chin up so he would look at her. “Something’s not right with this picture,” she said softly.
Jax looked down. Joey was luminescent in the firelight as it played over bare curves and valleys. Yet he was fully dressed and still wearing a winter coat.
He shrugged out of the coat, yanked his shirt over his head and leaned in to trail kisses over her abdomen, climbing the curve of her hip. He dragged his teeth over her flesh, cautioning himself to be careful even as the wild within him demanded to be loosed.
Joey shivered and he ran his tongue over the crop of goose bumps that appeared on her skin.
“God, I love every inch of you,” he murmured, lips skimming over the inside of her hip bone and lower to the v of her thighs. Her legs quivered and Jax smiled against the smooth skin. He was getting to her. There were cracks appearing in her cool defense.
Jax trailed his fingers down the backs of her thighs and heard her sigh. He wanted to make her do that again and again. His hands continued their quest, skirting her hips to stroke her thighs, his thumbs moved to rest just below her very center.
Neither of them breathed, but even without oxygen, his heart knocked against his chest in an incessant pounding. A razor sharp anticipation.
He stroked the pad of one thumb over her slit, a feather-light touch. Her breath was a gasp and Joey’s fingers curled into his shoulders.
“Wait,” she whispered.
Reacting to the tremble in her voice, Jax froze. He dropped his hands. “We can stop. It’s okay.” He would probably literally die if they did, was fairly certain his heart would just stop if she asked him to stop now.
“No,” she said, with a breathless laugh. “I mean you need to catch up.” She knelt down and set her hands to work on his belt. The moment her fingers skimmed his bare stomach, Jax felt his cock strain against the confines of his jeans. She seemed to know exactly what she was doing to him. Killing him slowly with excruciating anticipation.
Needing to touch her, Jax put his hands on her slim hips and rested his forehead on hers. Joey stared into him and as one hand worked his zipper down, her other moved to cup his hard-on through the jeans.
His eyes slammed closed, hips flexed into her hand. God, he was going to lose it and he still had his damn pants on. She’d given him a chance and he was seconds away from humiliating himself. No other woman had ever made him feel so … powerless … so hungry.
“Jojo, you’re killing me here,” he whispered it over her lips until she kissed him. But it didn’t stop her busy hands. She shoved his jeans down his thighs along with his underwear. His dick sprang free, arcing heavily toward her.
Her breath was coming in pants now, which did nothing to alleviate the tightness in his balls.
“Wait.” it was his turn to beg for a moment. “If you touch me now, it’s not going to be sweet and slow. It’s going to be fast and mean.”
