Page 90 of Jax

Chapter Twenty

Ronnie

“This feels like a dream,” I mumbled aloud by mistake, my hands running through his soft, wet hair.

Jax huffed, looking up with a raised eyebrow. The dim light from the candles highlighted the softer parts of his face and they drew my eyes. “Is this really a time to be daydreaming?”

“Hmm,” I mumbled, pretending to think about it. “Maybe not.”

Jax gave me that little quirk of a smile that I now knew was his baffled but enamored smile. According to him, I was like a little mystery in a pretty, wrapped-up box. Which was corny but sweet for Jax. I had expected something more like,“You’re the best pussy I’ve ever laid my tongue on,” which coincidenta—

A moan jumped from my throat. “Jax.” I tightened my grip on his hair.

“Don’t think about other things while my head is between your legs, got it?”

“You can’t stop me.” I stuck my tongue out at him, squeezing his shoulders a little with my thighs.

I hadn’t fully come to terms with looking at the horrible mess down the side of my leg, but when Jax didn’t care, I seemed to forget all about it—so long as there were no mirrors around. The road to accepting my body, scars and all, was a long road, one I was beginning to walk with Jax.

“Is that a challenge?” Jax purred, crawling up the length of my body, his cold belt buckle brushing against my clit and making me gasp. My hips jerked up against his denim crotch and he stopped.

And growled.

Not like a little one, or a purr. It was deep in his throat and his eyes fixed on the small gap between his belt and my clit with too much concentration.

“Jax?” I whimpered, lifting my hips once more to brush against the cold metal. It made my stomach flinch with the shock, but the tingle it left felt good.

I went back once more. Just a quick touch. But I couldn’t lift my hips from the bed.

“Jax?” I questioned, looking down at the hand pressed flat against my stomach. He wasn’t pushing hard, but there was firmness that left no room for wiggling as he kept me still. “Jax, what’s up?” I urged.

My voice must have held a hint of worry in it, because Jax snapped out of whatever trance he had fallen into. His eyes jumped to my face, and like a bucket of cold water, he jumped up from the bed.

“I’m off for a shower.” He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the side of my lips, ignoring my stunned expression and walked across the creaking floor into the en suite bathroom.

“Fuck,” I hissed, getting up from the bed.

What…the fuck just happened?

The regret churned inside my stomach as I looked down at my naked body, feeling more vulnerable than I had in a long while. I had a feeling we wouldn’t be going any further tonight.

I got up, dressed in a set of comfortable cotton pajamas—the long trouser kind, not the little booty shorts Jax had bought for me—and climbed under the sheet, turning the light off.

He ran away from me. As fast as he could.

Sure, I knew what the hell I was doing by tempting him, pushing against his belt. I wasn’t dumb. I was frustrated.

I knew what Jax’s kink was. Whether it had been the townspeople who overshared, the girls in the club who loved to gossip, or just the way his eyes darkened at the touch of a rope and a glance in my direction.

He liked to tie people up. Bondage or something along those lines.

Everybody said he wasn’t shy about it. In fact, he boasted about the leather collection he kept at the club, and the women I’d met weren’t afraid to tell me every detail about what he did to them.

That pissed me off.

Not at Jax but at the women. Did they have no shame? Or was it just confidence? Either way I didn’t like the way they flashed their experience around like a trophy.

But no matter how pissed off at those girls I was, I was more pissed off at myself.

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