Page 8 of Amor Prohibido

J’s gaze found mine when I released a shaky exhale. “Is it okay?”

I nodded, yet my voice came out gritty. “Surprisingly. Your hands are warm.”

The first—and last—time I agreed to let a woman touch my head, I couldn’t remove her touch fast enough.

Jax snickered.“Yourhands aren’t. It’s so smooth,” she mused, subtly shifting closer, which bumped my knees wider.

“It’s freshly razored.”

On instinct, my hands smoothed their way under the edge of my jacket. I studied her carefully while setting my hands on her waist, painfully aware of the placement. Having her curves and warmth under my palms was torture of the finest form. One inch higher or lower would cross so many boundaries, and the thought of smoothing my hands up her torso had me grunting to clear away the first licks of arousal. It was so fucking wrong to be thinking of her as anything other than my best mate’s little sister.

“How long have you shaved?”

I hummed, bringing myself back to our close proximity. “Since I left town.”

“It’s… sexy,” Jax stated.

My fingers flexed in warning. “Saying things like that will get your ass into trouble, J.”

She snickered and took my face in her hands. “Sounds like my kind of gig.”

“Trouble finds you wherever you go,” I agreed.

“It’s not my fault.”

“Never is.”

Our gazes snagged. Searched and challenged the other to say more despite needing to let sleeping dogs lie. A hint of longing coiled through me. The winter night air thickened. It trapped us in a moment and pulled us closer. Jax’s tongue rolled across her lower lip, and in the evening shadows, her eyes seemed darker and far more alluring than they were inside. Out here alone and having her body so close to mine pushed my desire to taste her through the roof. Her fingers grazed down my face to grip low on my jaw, and Iswearshe was about to lean in and kiss me.

As if she had the same realisation, Jax released my face and picked up her wine, finishing it off with two big gulps.

“You’re forgiven by the way,” she stated nonchalantly, with a finger point, like it was no big deal.

But it was. She was a hard-ass when it came to forgiving people for their wrongdoings, yet, once she forgave, it was as if the transgression never happened in the first place. It was called respect. And she commanded it as much as she gave it: wholeheartedly.

I slid my hands a fraction higher, stopping recklessly close to under-boob. The brazen act got her full attention, precisely as I needed. “I truly am sorry, J.”

“I know.”

Her breathing shallowed under my hands, and I lingered longer than necessary. A beat of heady magnetism passed between us again before I shook it off and released her from my grasp.

“Now, get your ass back inside so I can warm up. My nipples are so stiff I’ve got shirt chafe,” I stated gruffly.

Jax opened my jacket, exposing her bare midriff, and peered into her cleavage. “Huh, same here.”

She snapped the garment closed and stalked towards the building with an air of satisfaction, leaving me subtly adjusting my alert cock while muttering,“Jesus Christ.”

THREE

JACE

Three years of angst and hurt was a long time to be instantaneously swept under the rug, and while I held the door open for her, subtle undercurrents of uncertainty still hung heavily around us. As we entered the building again, Jax led the way to our table, and I moved toward the bar to order more alcohol. I needed the drink train to keep on coming tonight.

Armed with another round, I weaved my way through the fray of faceless patrons while trying not to spill the drinks. I felt Jax’s eyes on me the entire damn time. Searing as if her gaze was a physical connection. Menacing as if looks could literally kill. And if they could, I would have been dead the day six-year-old Jax wanted the last cookie that teenage me ate.

I smirked at the memory and shifted my attention to Jax after I set the drinks on the table. Her suspicious glare narrowed further. It seemed that now we were inside again, her walls had slammed back into place. I sent her a wink that did nothing but create more icebergs behind her dark irises. The subtle puff of her chest was different, though. Noticeable enough to have my attention dropping to her cleavage, then back up when she held up her middle finger in front of said cleavage.

My smirk widened into a lopsided smile and a chuckle gathered in my chest. I lived to rile her up and evidently that hadn’t changed over the past three years.

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