by A. S. Green
His words hit me somewhere deep. I mean something to him, even if he thinks these feelings are all new.
His breath is sweet from his gin and warm against my mouth. My body is pressed flush against his. He pulls his head back, putting some space between us while my fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, not wanting to let him go.
Muscle memory kicks in and, without thinking, I tip my hips against his and slip my arms around his neck.
He stops my progress by cupping my face in his hands. “You can’t kiss me out of being mad at you.”
He’s a goddamn liar, because I can feel him hard against my thigh. I can’t stop looking at his mouth. A small corner of my mind clings to rational thought, and I’m sure I’ll regret this in the morning.
His fingers comb into my hair while his thumbs brush over my lower lip, starting in the center and pulling out to the corners. He looks absolutely bewildered.
I touch my mouth to his full lips. It’s not quite a kiss. More like an experiment. But still, a low groan rumbles through his chest. His hand moves down to my waist, then grazes upward, over my ribs.
His head lowers, and he rests his forehead against mine. “Next time, think before you act.”
That’s not the first time someone’s told me that, and I should probably follow that advice right now. Instead, I touch my lips to his again.
That flips some kind of switch in Jax, because his mouth opens, and he dives in. We both suck in a gasp as our connection explodes. It’s not like normal fireworks, each one exploding in the sky in a choreographed display. It’s more like someone accidentally dropped a match in the storehouse, and it all goes off at once.
Jax moans as he deepens our kiss, and when we finally release each other, he exhales, eyes closed, whispering, “Fuck, yeah. Finally.”
He’s kissing me again, slanting his mouth over mine. Another wave of heat floods the surface of my skin, starting between my legs and blazing upward for my hairline. My heart roils and kicks as if something long imprisoned is trying to break free. Jax makes another tortured noise, as if he, too, can’t believe we’ve made it this long, because the two of us together… Amazing.
He comes back for more, his tongue sliding against mine. Incredible. The taste of him. The hard warmth of him. I am dizzy and hungry, oblivious to the rough brick behind my back. I am lost in the heat and the thrust and muscled grip of him, his smooth skin trembling under my hands as I slide my palms over his ribs, touching the small puckered scar.
He hoists me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, and my leather dress works its way up past my hips. He groans into my mouth as his kiss deepens, and he grinds his hardest part against me until I’m crying out with pleasure.
Jax cups my ass and thrusts. “Tell me to stop, or I swear to God, in ten seconds we’re going to be fucking against this wall.”
I rock my hips, and if not for his jeans and the bit of silk that masquerades as my panties, he’d be inside me. God, I want that. Something deep in my core is coiling tighter and tighter, ready to unleash, and I want more. I need more.
“This is just…” One of his hands digs into my ass, and his other hand palms my breast, caressing, thumbing the tip, deepening the painful ache inside me.
“I shouldn’t,” he says, which is the biggest lie I’ve ever heard. “I never meant…”
I tip my head back, and he kisses down my neck, sucking deep at the spot where it meets my shoulder, marking me as his.
“Tell me to stop,” he says. “Natalie, tell me to stop. We can’t do this again.”
And that’s when it hits me what he’s been saying all along.
I bring my chin down so I can see his eyes. He presses his forehead against mine, and his chest heaves with the effort of restraint.
“Again?” I ask.
He pulls his head back, and his gray eyes widen like rain clouds.
“Again?”
“Natalie,” he says, drawing out my name—calming—like he’s trying to avoid disaster.
“You remembered?” I can’t believe it. What the hell has he been doing this whole time? Why didn’t he say something? My legs loosen around his waist, and my feet slowly lower to the ground.
“Of cour— Wait. Did you remember?”
“Don’t be an idiot.”
“When?” The vein that was pulsing in his forehead earlier? Yeah. It’s back.
“The second I saw you. You?”
“Same.” He combs his fingers into my hair.
“Oh my God,” I whisper. Has he been toying with me this whole trip? The dressing room fiasco? Letting me sleep in his bed?
“Natalie.”
“Oh my God!” This time a lot louder. I take a step out of the alley. Has he been laughing at me this whole time? Has he been mad?
“Come back,” he says, grabbing my hand.
I tug my arm away. “Give me a second. I have to process this.”
“What’s to process?” he asks, joining me on the sidewalk.
“We’ve spent four days together, and you never said a word.” My arms are gesturing wildly to make my point.
He folds his arms calmly over his chest. “I can say the same of you.”
“That’s only because I didn’t think you recognized me.”
“Ditto, and frankly, that pissed me off. It’s not like I look any different. If I’d meant anything to you back then, you would have said something.”
“You meant something.” I throw my arms out wide. “You meant everything. That’s why I didn’t say anything. It was way too embarrassing.”
“Why would that be embarrassing?”
“Jax.” My arms drop limply to my sides. “I have been obsessing over you for six years.”
Shit. My mouth drops open in horror. Why did I admit that? I must still be drunk.
He clenches his teeth, and a muscle flexes along his jaw.
“I know. You don’t have to say it. It’s totally pathetic. And then for you to come waltzing back in from God knows where, not recognizing me, and being perfectly handsome but unfortunately a complete douche!”
He reaches out and strokes my arm, but I’m not done yet.
“Maybe I was pathetically obsessing over memories, but they were my memories, and they were beautiful memories, and they gave me hope that there was at least one guy out there who was smart and interesting and…well, interested in me…at least, someone who was capable of it, and then you ruined everything by being a dick.”
His eyes flash, but his body is still in control. “What about me? Whose life had been total shit? Mine. And you knew it, too. That guy gets an inkling that maybe, just maybe, there’s something better out there, only to get his hopes ground into the dirt. You crushed me, Natalie. Do you have any idea—”
“You told me I should go. You kissed me goodbye.”
“That kiss? I threw everything I had into that kiss. That kiss was supposed to convince you to stay, and I thought I did a damn fine job of it. I went back into that club to give you the privacy to say goodbye to your friends. Never in a million years did I think I wasn’t going to see you again. You flaked on me.”
“Flaked? Elise needed me.”
He groans in frustration. “You left me to babysit a woman who had her own man to take care of her.”
My temper flares, because his memory is seriously faulty. “You said you understood. You said I should go and help her because that was one of the things you loved about me.”
“I said I loved the way you took care of the people you loved. I just thought that trait was going to transfer onto me, too. I was wrong about that. My mistake. But now you’ve taken that little trait of yours to the extreme, haven’t you?”
I slam my palms against his chest, but he’s rock solid. Not even a wobble. “I get that you want to be some kind of island unto yourself, but some of us have friends. Lots of friends. Friends who need us. And when a friend needs you, you go to them.”
“Let’s face what’s really going on here,
” Jax says, and I can tell I’m not going to like what he has to say. “You like to be needed. More than that, you have to feel needed. You live for that shit. You lap it up like cream. You’ve got everyone on that island so dependent on you for everything. Playing hostess, and post office shit, and radio stations, and goddamn Florence Nightingale… Fuck.”
“Fuck you, Jax.”
“Yeah,” he says. “You did that, too.” His face is a mixture of anger and sadness. There’s a hurt so deep there it tears at my own chest, but I push it away. I’m not going to take all the blame for leaving him. That doesn’t even make sense, and he doesn’t know me as well as he thinks he does. Not anymore.
Something shifts in the mood between us. The anger flips away, leaving something sad in its place.
He bows his head and shifts his feet. “I’m sorry for kissing you like that. I didn’t mean to assume I could just… Anyway, it’s best we both get some space and then some rest.”
We exit the alley, then head up the steps to our B&B, then to our rooms. We both mutter a “G’night” without really looking at each other, and after I let my door close behind me, I collapse onto my bed.
Did I really flake on him six years ago? I never saw it like that, only as the most heartbreaking moment of my life. He told me to go. Did he really want me to stay? Was he giving me the option to choose, and I chose wrong?
Then I think about the alleyway. I can still feel his soft, full lips moving against mine. I don’t know if I’m more mortified by how I threw myself at him or more ashamed that I didn’t admit the truth to him right away. Or am I more irritated that he didn’t tell me he recognized me? When we were outside, I thought my secret was the more forgivable one. Now I’m not so sure.
Maybe we’re both ridiculous. Maybe that means something. When I was eighteen, I felt our connection. I had nothing to compare it to at the time. Now it’s six years later, and still no one has ever turned me on with his laugh. Or a smile. God, Jax doles out his smiles like a miser, but they’re so worth the wait.
Tomorrow will he pretend like nothing happened between us? I’ll be going home. He’ll be going back to New York. Will we stay in touch this time? I can’t imagine it.
Jax has never even taken a girl shopping before. If it takes more than a few hours, it’s a commitment. And commitment isn’t his kind of thing.
Pretty soon, to him, this whole weird reunion of ours will be nothing more than an interesting story. Our frantic pawing at each other in the alley? Yeah. It was just the emotional release of not being flattened by a streetcar. If I’m to protect my heart, it would be smart for me to remember that.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Natalie
I strip down to my panties and pull on a different Foo Fighters T-shirt than the night before; this one has the black heart from the One by One album, because that’s how I’m feeling. Quietly, I open my door and tiptoe down the hall to the shared bathroom with my kit hanging off my wrist. I hesitate at Jax’s door. Should I knock? Say good-night again? Tell him I’m done processing and can we please get down to business?
I do none of that. Instead, I finish the trip to the bathroom, shower, wrap my hair in a towel turban, and brush my teeth. I pop a bunch of aspirin, then check myself in the mirror. My T-shirt is sticking to my damp body, but I’m decent enough for a quick run back down the hall.
I click off the bathroom light, open the door, and… “Yikes!”
Jax is standing there with his hand outstretched, reaching for the doorknob. His eyes don’t look sleepy anymore; I’ve never seen them so wide. I should add, he’s wearing a towel—just a towel—and his tight, ripped abs are beautifully on display. Lord have mercy.
He drops his hand to his thigh. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you go down the hall.”
“No worries. I’m finished.”
We do that awkward dance thing where we both try to let the other in or out but then end up hopping back and forth with our chests plastered together as we each try to squeeze through the doorway simultaneously.
Once he’s in the bathroom and I’m in the hallway, a muscle flexes along his jaw, then he presses his palm against my cheek. My chest heats from his touch, and I might as well be naked for how raw and exposed I feel. Why didn’t I pack my long flannel pajamas?
He drops his hand and retucks his towel, which has come loose. As he does, I can’t help noticing the reason—the obvious reason—why he didn’t want to accidentally lose it.
A pulsing starts between my thighs, just above the too-short hem of my nightshirt. Oh, God. I remember. I remember everything. Even the parts I had pushed down deep. It all comes rushing to the surface. There’s no helping it now. I reach out and graze my fingers against his erection right through the towel.
Air hisses through his teeth, and he says, “I forgot what it felt like to be with you.”
I think he must mean it in a good way, judging by the low moan that escapes him as I move my hand up his entire length. Oh, yeah. He definitely means it in a good way.
He hooks his thumb into the elastic of my panties. “May I?”
I answer by pushing him farther into the bathroom and closing the door behind us. My panties hit the floor and then, in one fluid motion, he lifts and turns me, setting me on the bathroom vanity.
His hand is between my legs. His lips crash down on mine. Fingers and mouth move in synchronicity, driving me insane. My head slams back against the mirror. I don’t think it breaks, but I probably shouldn’t do that again.
“Oh, God. Oh, God.”
“God, you’re quick. Don’t come. Not yet,” he says.
“Then you better stop what you’re doing.”
“Okay,” he says.
“Wait. What?” I open my eyes, but he has disappeared, and then… Oh. My. God.
He’s pushed up my nightshirt to just under my breasts, and his hands are at the outsides of my thighs. His mouth kisses over the dip of my waist, the ample curve of my hip, the soft pooch of my stomach. Why does he have to focus on the one part of my body that I’d rather he ignored? I try to pull him up. “No, Jax. Come back up here.”
“Why?” he asks, his breath caressing my skin. His kisses keep coming.
“My… I’m not as skinny as the last time we…” My voice drifts off, because I hate that this bothers me. I would have laid off the beer and nachos months ago if I saw this night coming.
He stops kissing and looks up at me. “Sorry?”
“I mean. You’re all…” I gesture vaguely at all his muscles. “And I’m a little…soft.”
“Natalie,” he says, kissing me once on my hip. “Life is hard. Really hard.”
He kisses me on the other hip. “I can’t speak for all men.” Then he kisses me above my belly button and looks up.
“But this man?” he says, his eyes locked with mine. “The one I hope counts more than others for the moment?” He closes his eyes and tucks his chin, kissing me right below my belly button. Sweet Jesus.
“This man has had enough of hard. I’m looking forward to a little soft.” He drops to his knees, and now he’s kissing me right there.
“Jax,” I say on a moan.
“That’s it.” His warm breath brushes against my most sensitive part and sends a shudder right through me. “Keep saying my name.”
His tongue flutters and delves deep inside me, taking full possession. He groans and slides his hands under my ass, lifting me off the counter, pulling me against his mouth like a man starved. A feral sound emanates from somewhere deep inside him while a keening escapes from behind my teeth. I am a powder keg. He is the match. He’s always been the match. My match.
My pulse pounds at my temples, in my neck, and at my core. I’m about to…I’m about to… “Jax!”
“That’s it.”
“Jax, I’m going to come.”
“Then come.”
I let go.
When the last of the tremors leave me, he picks up my panties from the floor and carries me back t
o his room with my legs wrapped around his waist and our lips locked on each other’s. As soon as his bedroom door closes behind us, his fingers are laced through my hair, holding my face to his. It’s so good. So easy. And still…after all these years…so familiar.
The first time we met, we fell together naturally, like two halves of one whole. That’s what I’ve been missing all these years, and I want it back so desperately that I let myself get lost in the tug and pull of our bodies as he stumbles blindly toward the edge of the bed.
His touch is gentle now, but the frantic desperation is building in me again as the tension ripples under his smooth muscles. I know what’s coming next. I’ve never wanted anything so badly, and I can tell by the way his chest heaves and the air moves in and out of his lungs that he wants this as much as I do.
He lowers me to my feet. My palms flatten against his chest, thumbs brushing the flat discs of his nipples, then fingers sliding down over his ribs and catching in the edge of his admirably tenacious towel. What’s good for the goose…
I pull it loose, and his kiss deepens as the towel lands at our feet. My hand wraps around his erection and strokes once. He moans my name, and his fingers dig into my shoulders.
I work him, feeling him thicken in my hand until I can spread a drop of moisture over the tip of his cock, teasing him with what we both know is soon to come.
His eyes open and lock with mine. I nod, and without a word, he catches the bottom edge of my T-shirt in his fingers. I raise my arms as he pulls it up. Slowly. Like he’s unwrapping a present. The cotton tickles across my body, sending a rush of goose bumps over my skin. When it’s off, he drops it on the floor by his towel and takes a half step back.
It’s dark in the room, but the moonlight coming through the shutters sends a bluish cast over everything, highlighting his cheek, his shoulder, the curve of my breast.
“I’d forgotten how beautiful you are,” he says. “I think I made myself forget.”
He guides me onto the bed, and I lie back. He follows me down, our bodies barely losing contact, and I gasp when his fingers tickle up the inside of my thigh. He slips one inside me, and my body, still primed from our bathroom encounter, quickly responds. Can he feel how hard my muscles are clamping down around him?
