Page 79 of Against the Rules (Harts of Passion 1)

Carefully, he pulled out of me and disposed of the condom. He fell on his back and quickly tugged me to his side. His hand glided idly up and down my back. My fingers were busy, too, tracing small circles on his chest, focusing on his nipples. He was as sensitive there as I was.

"So, now I know what all the fuss is about," I mumbled sleepily.

Jax's chest rumbled under my cheek. "I don't know about “fuss,” but yeah, I agree."

I lifted my head, surprised. "What do you mean? Isn't it always like that for you? I mean, with your experience, I would have thought this was normal for you. I mean, not that you do this all the time with, but I just figured it—"

Once again, my words were cut off by his mouth. "First, my little doubter, while I can't claim to be a saint, I don't sleep with every woman I meet. But second, and most important," he cupped my face in one hand, "it has never been like that for me. It's you. It's us."

A sense of female satisfaction settled over me.

Jax rolled over, pinning me beneath him. I felt his growing hardness tap against my things. "But you know, for clarity, we should probably make sure it wasn't just a fluke."

Hours later, we'd more than confirmed it wasn't.

27

Jax

I slept better than I usually did. Maybe while she slept in my arms, Grace chased the nightmares away. Maybe it was that I was looking forward to having something different with her. Or maybe we'd exhausted ourselves exploring each other's bodies. It didn't matter, it all came back to Grace.

Despite the peaceful sleep, I awoke ea

rly. It was still dark outside, but the full moon hung in the sky overlooking the valley our room faced. It cast a beam into the room, highlighting the beautiful woman in my arms. I smiled as she sighed in her sleep, still appearing as sated and content as when we'd fallen asleep a couple of hours earlier.

Despite how many times I'd taken her last night, my cock stirred to life. But she needed her rest, so I carefully extracted her from my arms and got up, pulling on the pair of sweats I'd temporarily put on late last night when we finally stirred for some nourishment.

I walked to the living room where remnants of our piecemeal dinner were still on the coffee table. After two enthusiastic rounds of out-of-this-world-sex, neither of us had been interested in anything that took too long to cook, so we'd been happy munching on cheese and crackers, sliced deli meat, and some fruit and nuts with a bottle wine to wash it down. Minimally dressed, she in my discarded t-shirt and me in a pair of sweatpants, we'd fed each other and pretended to watch a movie. But about forty minutes into it, we ended up more into each other. I couldn't get enough of her delectable body that she so freely gave to me.

I'd meant to wine and dine her when we arrived yesterday. Meant to create a romantic dinner to set the tone. But when we she approached me in the bedroom as if I was the only fucking thing she could see, I felt on top of the world. When she kissed me and asked me to make love to her, I knew she was my world, and the outside world could wait.

I cleaned up our "dinner," and decided to sit outside and watch the sun rise over the mountains. I grabbed the large blanket off the couch and settled onto one of the wooden lounge chairs on the deck. I let the quiet surround me, and for the first time that I could remember, I felt at peace. Details of work weren't barraging me from all angles nor was anger over my past infesting my motives. I had a beautiful woman, inside and out, who saw beyond my 'assiness' and liked me anyway.

"What are you smiling about?"

I looked up to see Grace, standing in the door that opened to the deck from our room. She had wrapped an afghan around her and was leaning her head on the frame, watching me with a soft smile.

"You."

She walked toward me, the afghan flowing behind her like a royal robe. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I missed you. The better question might be why aren't you still in bed?"

I heard the uncertainty in her voice. I opened my blanket inviting her to join me. She instantly sank onto my lap and rested her head on my shoulder. I pulled the blanket around us both and kissed her hair. "I tend to wake up early, no matter what time I fall asleep. I figured you'd lost enough sleep because of me, and I wanted you to rest. You've been working too hard."

She nuzzled my chest and left a kiss. "No harder than you."

I grunted. "I'm used to it."

I hesitated and then decided to plow forward with my thoughts. "I think you should take on some help." I felt her stiffen. "I'm worried about you. You're running yourself ragged trying to keep up with every detail and give everyone topnotch treatment."

She was silent. In her, that was a definite bad sign.

"Not that you're not doing an excellent job," I quickly added, "but I think after this upcoming fundraiser you're going to be in even higher demand."

"I'm very protective of my business. I don't trust anyone to give the same attention to each client that I give."

Clearly, I was bad at the-morning-after-sex conversation. I guess I hadn't had a lot of practice outside of "see you later."

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