Jax met her gaze, eyes trailing up and down her face. Then in unison, they shifted. He sat the bottle of water down and turned while Carson straightened her back. Reaching his hand up behind her head, he pulled her in to kiss her lips.
Instantly, Carson caught fire. The flames engulfed them, swallowed them whole. The sensation was tender and sweet. It was yearning and need. It was fire and ice.
She wanted more. Needed more. Like a cactus craving the sun.
Jax was happy to oblige because soon Carson was straddling his lap, gripping the back of his neck and head and running her fingers through his shaggy hair. At first his hands were firm on her thighs, but as theycontinued to kiss, his grip slowly made its way to her hips. The few healing cuts where his not-so-gentle hands touched whined in protest. She tried to ignore them.
Then his hands started to slide up her sides. That was harder to ignore. Would he feel her uneven skin under her riding jersey? She pushed those thoughts out of her mind and focused on him instead. His mouth tasted like peanuts; salty, just like the sweat on his skin. As he trailed his nose up and down her throat, she breathed in his dusty hair.
Jax’s fingers were dangerously close to finding the edge of her jersey, Carson writhed with discomfort, causing him to pull away. She looked into his eyes. So much fire. So much ice. Again, she pushed her fear down and found his lips once more.
How she wanted to be touched. To feel his hands on her bare skin. What would it feel like for her ugly skin to be caressed and loved with his pure hands?
It was going too far. Carson was losing control. Suddenly all she could focus on was the placement of Jax’s hands. They were on her ribcage, sliding back down to her hips. What would happen if his hand slipped up her shirt and—
“I—I can’t.” Carson gasped, pulling away.
They were both panting hard, apparently having forgotten how to breathe. She took advantage of his lack of oxygen and slid off his lap. Jax didn’t complain, sitting up to cross his legs and rest his forearms on his knees.
“Yeah, that was . . .” he rasped.
He didn’t understand why she’d stopped. To be honest, if her scars weren’t holding her back, Carson would have continued. Probably to the point of getting a high five from Raegan. Letting the flames thaw, she pulledon the bottom of her jersey to readjust it for maximum coverage.
It was getting dark. How long had they been kissing? One of Jax’s hands raked through his hair before he looked at her. Something he saw amused him.
“What?” Now Carson ran her hands through her own hair. Was there a twig? Did she have peanuts in her teeth?
“I think I gave you a hickey,” he said.
In the heat of the moment, Carson hadn’t noticed what he was doing. Her hand shot to where his mouth had been on her neck seconds ago. “Is there really a hickey?” she squeaked.
Jax moved her fingers out of the way to inspect the area and let out a small whistle. “Definitely a hickey.”
“Shit.” Carson grabbed her neck again, trying to hide it. It was already hard enough having to hide her scars.
Jax grinned impishly. “I’m not even sorry.”
Then her eyes grew wide. “I have a status conference at the courthouse tomorrow.”
“Still not sorry.”
Chapter fifteen
With every slice of the blade, Carson trembled with regret, but her hand continued to slash away at the skin on her upper forearm. One, two, three swipes. The blood began to seep out. She was only vaguely aware of the massacre before her, perfect for All Hallow’s Eve.
Hunched on the floor of her bathroom, with a razor blade pinched between her fingers, she saw red splatters of blood all around her. The pain was burning, an intense fire on her skin. The blood was hot, like lava. She loved it. Desired it. Yearned for it.
Attraction.
Like a long pull of a cigarette after a stressful day, Carson leaned her head back and let the pain envelope her. The room pulsated with euphoric energy as her blood dripped onto the floor.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
She was weightless. Just as the clouds in the sky. Floating and free.