Page 25 of What Happens In Vegas: Jessa & Jaxon
In one smooth motion, he lifts me onto the counter, spreading my legs. I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him closer, all thoughts of burned pasta forgotten.
His hands find their way under the shirt, tracing patterns on my skin. My own hands explore the muscled expanse of his body. I can’t get enough of him.
“We should stop,” I whisper, but my hands fist in his hair as his lips graze my neck.
“Should we?” he asks. “Or is that just what you think you’re supposed to say?”
I don’t want to stop. I want more of this—more of him, more of us together, more of the way he makes me feel desired and cherished.
“No,” I admit. “I’m starving.”
“Okay.”
He lowers me down from the counter but doesn’t step back immediately. Instead, he keeps his hands on my waist, holding me close.
“Perhaps you can teach me to make pasta?” he suggests. “Then later we can burn your sheets.”
I laugh, wrapping my arms around his neck and standing on my toes to press a kiss to his lips. “That sounds perfect.”
Jaxon
The snow sparkles underthe early morning sun as I dig the shovel into another dense pile beside JJ’s sedan. The physical labor feels good after being cooped up inside, though memories of the last few days bring a smile to my face.
I had her again and again in the past couple of days. But instead of feeling satiated, I am hungry for more.
Things changed between us, but I’m not naïve enough to think she’s fully mine. Not yet.
JJ is careful. She doesn’t give trust easily, and that makes every inch of ground I’ve gained with her feel like a victory. The way she looked at me, the way she allowed me to possess her means something.
And if I know anything, it’s how to capitalize on an opening. I shove the thoughts aside and focus on digging her car out of the snow.
Steam rises from my breath as I clear another section around her car. The storm has passed, but it’s left behind a transformed world.
Snow blankets the cars, the street and buildings. It’s heavy, wet, and nearly knee-deep in most places. The city remains silent, as if still holding its breath after the storm’s fury.
The plows haven’t made it to this side street yet. I can hear their distant rumble on the main roads, but here, we might as well be in a snow globe, isolated in our own winter wonderland.
A sudden impact between my shoulder blades makes me jerk upright.
I turn slowly and find JJ standing near my crushed car. She’s bundled in a puffy jacket that makes her look twice her size, and a bright blue knit hat is pulled low over her ears. She’s sunk nearly to her knees in snow, her boots covered from the effort of wading through the white expanse.
“Did you just throw a snowball at me?” I ask.
“Me? Never.” Her innocent expression is betrayed by the telltale red of her gloved hands dusted with snow.
“Uh-huh.” I bend down, casually scooping snow into my gloved hand. “Because it felt like someone declared war.”
“You wouldn’t,” she challenges, but she’s already backing up, her movements labored as she struggles through the deep snow.
“Wouldn’t I?” I pack the snow tight, my eyes never leaving her.
She squeals and attempts to duck behind my car, but the deep snow turns her quick escape into a comical, high-kneed trudge. My snowball sails past where she stood moments before, disappearing into the drift behind her.
I crouch behind her car, gathering ammunition. The snow is perfect for snowballs—wet enough to hold together, but not so slushy it falls apart.
“You know I’m going to win this, right?”
“Big talk from a man who just missed!” Her voice comes from somewhere to my left.
