Page 10 of Fighting for His Life

“I know you’re sorry, Jax,” I say with a little salt because I can. “But what are you sorry for because I wonder if it’s the same thing I’m upset over.”

“I’m not sorry for beating the shit out of him, Zo. Maybe I should be but I’m not. I am glad you got me to stop before I went too far, but I can’t be sorry for doing what I wanted to do that night that I carried you out of that fucking house. You could’ve fucking died because of that bastard.”

I don’t want to rehash all of that. I understand why he’s so angry over it. I was too up until a couple of hours ago. But I still need to know. I’m a hypocrite I know. “So, you’re sorry about the secret you kept from me or the fact that I found out?”

“Can’t I be sorry for both?”

I shake my head. “No. Because one implies you wish you’d never kept the secret. The other implies it would still be a secret if I hadn’t found out.”

“It was never about keeping secrets from you, Zoey. Not really. It was about getting him away from you – and me,” he explains almost pleading for me to understand.

“Then why not tell me, Jax?”

“I told you. I didn’t want you looking at me like you are right now. Like I’ve completely lost your faith in me. Like you don’t know me.”

Pit pat. Pit pat.

My heart doesn’t know what to do with the things he keeps saying tonight. He’s said things similar in the past, but something really does feel different. As badly as I might want to make him squirm, I can’t do it. “I don’t feel that way, Jay. I could never feel that way.”

He turns to face me, bringing his six-five frame inchnches away from mine. He reaches up to my face brushing his fingers across my jaw.

Pit pit pat. Pit pat pat.

My heart sputters some more.

Why does this feel different?

“Zoey,” he whispers my names softly.

“Yes?” I ask with a slight crack to my voice. Stupid voice.

He doesn’t say another word. Nope. He just leans down and brushes the slightly peck across my lips setting everything in me on fire. I tamp it down best I can because this is Jax. He can’t possibly mean anything by it except a kiss between friends.

Except my heart is racing like a drum solo from a seventies rock band. My stomach is flipping like I’ve ridden every rollercoaster at Six Flags. It is taking all my willpower to make my knees not give out.

Because a simple brush of the lips or not, nothing about that kiss feels friendly.

With eyes closed, he leans his forehead against mine. His chest rises and falls in rapid succession much like my own. When he opens his eyes, the intensity burning in them causes me to gasp.

Then his lips crash to mine with a force that knocks me off my already wobbly feet. Fortunately, he is quick to hold me up. Then pick me up to set me on the railing’s edge.

I wrap my arms around his neck as his mouth moves against mine. A fire has taken hold of every inch of my body. My fingers seek purchase in his hair for something to hold on to as it burns me to ashes.

Because that’s exactly what’s happening. He is destroying me with every swipe of his tongue against my own. He is giving me exactly what I’ve wanted for as long as I can remember each time his grip around me tightens possessively. He is ruining me for all other men in this moment with just a kiss.

And I pour everything into that kiss. I let him know as I explore his lips, tongue and mouth with my own just how much I want this. How much I’ve always wanted this.

He works his way across my jaw to my neck drawing out panted moans of his name. Each nip, lick, and suck of my flesh turns fire burning into an inferno.

His hand skims under my shirt to find the bare skin of my belly. His rough, calloused hands send a tightening coil to my lower belly. My own hands now seeking the feel of his hard, muscled body.

I wrap my legs around his waist and grind myself against the hardness pressed behind his jeans. His hand moves to my breast as he gently grabs one over my bra. Another gasp slips from me as he rubs a thumb over my already peaked nipple. I buck my hips over his covered length again seeking some relief from the building pressure.

“Fuck, Zoey,” he groans as I continue to grind myself against him.

Until he stills me, pulling back ever so slightly breaking our kiss.

“What was that, Jax?” I ask even though I’m afraid of what his answer would be.

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