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I bit the corner of my lower lip and exhaled slowly, shakily, equal parts nervous and eager. I had a million things I wanted to tell Jax, things I wanted to talk to him about, share with him, but in this moment, my newly awakened desire was in control, and it wasn't conversation I craved.

It was Jax.

From the moment I first laid eyes on him back in Ketchikan, he'd awakened some part of me and set fire to my hormones in a way I don't think I've ever known.

Not even—

Nope, not going there at the moment. That was a conversation to have later, with Jax. Pillow talk, maybe, assuming we ever got rescued, were able to find an actual bed and pillow, and the time and privacy to use them.

For now, I did a quick self-assessment and noted that my pulse was elevated, my hands clammy and shaky, my breathing shallow and uneven, my breasts felt heavy and tight, and my nipples were hard as diamonds and hypersensitive.

Physical manifestations of my arousal.

I tried to silence the part of my brain that consistently overthought everything, instead tuning in to my feelings and desires.

Feelings were harder—those were still tangled up in the past, and I'd need more time to sort it all out. But desires? Those were top of mind.

And they were all about Jax.

I opened myself to them, dove into them.

He'd fought for me. Stood over me and faced down a thousand-pound apex predator with a fucking tree branch.

If that's not hot as fuck, I don't know what is.

I wanted…what?

Focus, Tea. Here, now: yourself, your body, your mind, your heart. What do you want?

Jax.

More skin, less clothing. Not that he was wearing much, but even that little bit was too much. I wanted to see him bare. That single stolen glimpse I'd gotten hadn’t been anywhere near enough. And yet it was carved into my brain, burned onto the synapses, painted on my retinas.

Specifically, his cock. At rest, it had been long and thick, and even in the shock of the moment I'd felt a flurry of arousal at the sight of it. Now, he was fully engorged, and what had been impressive at rest was even more so.

And I wanted it.

I wanted to wrap my fingers around that thick shaft, feel the veins stutter and the skin slide. I wanted to watch the faces he'd make as I touched him, the sounds he'd make. How he'd say my name so desperately as he rode the wave of pleasure toward climax.

My stomach tightened, and I slid my hand down his right side, under the elastic of his underwear, and scratched my nails down his thigh. At the teasing proximity of my hand, his stomach curled in and hardened, and his tailbone lifted, and the curled girth of his cock pressed against the boxer briefs until it seemed the material was strained nearly to the point of bursting, or so it seemed.

I bent over him, shifting my torso to drag my breasts all over his face, and then withdrew my hand and cupped his cock over the cotton. "Take ‘em off, Jax."

For once, he listened without comment. Wincing and hissing, he shifted his weight to shuffle and shimmy the tight underwear off, reaching up with a foot once they reached his knees, hooking them off with his toes. He was still wincing and huffing slightly once they were off, his forehead wrinkled.

"God, you're gorgeous," I whispered, the words torn from my gut and uttered involuntarily.

He gave me a lopsided grin. "Glad you think so."

"You are." I cupped my breast and offered it to him. "Kiss me."

"Fuck yes," he growled.

His big hands found flesh: one carved up and down my spine a few times while the other teased and fondled the breast his mouth wasn't currently licking. Fucking ecstasy. And that was just the attention paid to my tits; how incredible could he make me feel when it was my core he was giving his attention to?

The thought struck me like a lightning bolt, unexpected and uncharacteristic for me.

Just the thought of his fingers at my sex had me pulsing all over, had my hips wanting to move, had me aching emptily around nothing.