Page 9 of What Happens In Vegas: Jessa & Jaxon
But my body doesn’t give a damn about logic.
My fingers tighten in his hair instead of pushing him away. My hips lift, chasing friction instead of distance.
I don’t want this. I can’t want this.
But I do. And that terrifies me more than anything.
Jaxon shifts, pushing me back against the armrest of the sofa, his body covering mine. His weight feels right and the heat of him feels like home.
My legs part of their own accord, allowing him to settle between them. I can’t stop a moan from escaping my lips when I feel his erection.
My hips lift to meet his, seeking more contact, more friction. His hands slide under my shirt, tracing my stomach, my ribs, before finally cupping my breasts.
I arch into his touch, my breath hitching as his fingers roll my nipples gently. He breaks the kiss, his mouth moving to my neck, my collarbone, my ear, each touch stroking the tendrils within me.
“Jaxon,” I whisper, my voice hoarse with desire. I don’t even recognize it.
His lips don’t stop the torturous path over my skin, but something feels off. I open my eyes.
“What happened to the lights?”
The room has fallen into darkness, the only illumination coming from the faint glow of the setting sun through the windows.
Sliding from under him, I drag in a shaky breath to calm my aroused body. The sudden loss of light is jarring, but not as much as the way my body still aches for him.
I need distance. More than light.
I shove away from the couch, needing the distance to clear my head as much as to check the power. Because if I stay any closer, I might make another mistake.
Moving across the room, I flick the light switch several times. Nothing happens. I try another switch, then another.
“Power’s out throughout the town, JJ,” Jaxon says, completely at ease, like he owns the damn storm, too.
Nothing fazes him. Nothing unsettles him.
“The snow has gotten worse. Come have a look.”
I walk over and stand beside him, carefully maintaining a few inches of space between us. Through the window, I can see nothing but swirling white, the streetlights unlit.
I groan. “I hate wintery weather.”
“Well, that’s too bad. I was about to ask you to build a snowman,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
Despite myself, I smile back, and Jaxon pauses. He studies my face for a long moment, clearly caught off guard by my unexpected warmth.
Then he moves toward me with a smooth, purposeful grace, making my heart race. I back up until I hit the wall, trapped between the cold plaster and his warm body.
“What happened on the couch doesn’t mean I want to stay married to you,” I say, my voice more breathless than I’d like.
I cross my arms over my chest, hating how my nipples still tingle from his touch and how my lips yearned for his kisses.
“As soon as the roads clear, we’re going to find a lawyer and get this annulled.”
“You shouldn’t do that,” he murmurs.
“Do what?”
His gaze drops to my lips. “Smile at me like that.”
