Page 70

“Have you had that happen?" I asked.

He nodded. "Shit, yeah. A few girls I dated talked mad game at the start but never followed through."

I growled. "Bitches."

He laughed. "Nah. They were alright. And it wasn't their fault, anyway. They could tell I wasn't, like, a hundred percent all in on them."

"Still not okay. If you say you're gonna do something, do it."

"Things change,” he said. “Plans change. What you wanted to do that morning you may not want to do anymore by the time evening rolls around, and that’s fine and normal. I get it.” He grabbed my wrist and held my hand motionless, his eyes on mine. "I do not ever, ever want you to do anything because you feel you have to, out of any kind of obligation. Just because you talked about doing something doesn't obligate you to follow through. Okay? We clear on that?"

I nodded, holding his eyes. "Yes, Jax. I understand. And again, I'm not a woman you can force into anything. If I don't want to, or if I change my mind, I’ll let you know. I'm a bitch like that."

His thumb pressed over my lips. "Tea, I don't want you to ever call yourself that word again. Please?" He reached, tugged me down, and kissed me dizzy. "You're not a bitch. I can't speak to your time in the Navy because I wasn’t there, but in the time I've known you, you have not once been any kind of a bitch. You're a strong woman. You know your mind. You know yourself. You don't tolerate bullshit. You're a leader. You're confident." I opened my mouth to argue, but his finger across my lips silenced me. "What you are not is mean, unkind, rude, arrogant or egotistical, vindictive, or cruel. Not even close."

My eyes burned. "Jax, god."

"Okay?"

I nodded, eyes misty. "Yeah, I got it." I swallowed hard. "It's just…when you hear something often enough…"

"Then you've been listening to the wrong people." He released my wrist.

Still kneeling beside him, I rested my forehead on his chest, nodding. "You're probably right. Maybe I should just listen to you, from now on."

"No," he said. "You should listen to yourself. And not the shitty asshole voice we all have in our heads saying vile shit about us.”

"My inner shitty asshole can be very loud," I said.

He sniffed a laugh. "Then yes, listen to me. And I say that you're smart, sexy, funny, kind, talented, and just fucking amazing."

I sighed, nodding again. "Might take me a while to really internalize all that, but if you keep saying it, maybe someday It'll get easier to believe."

"Then I'll say it loud, and I'll say it often."

I kissed his jaw, his chin, his cheek, then his mouth. “This has to be the most frustrating handjob you've ever gotten."

He laughed. "It doesn't matter, Tea. It's fine. There's more to life than getting to come." The laughter faded, and his gaze was serious on mine. “Yeah, sweetheart, I want you to touch me. Like all the fucking time. Your hand on my cock is the best thing I’ve ever fucking felt. But…you matter so much more, Tea. You're all that matters."

My shoulders shook, and I hung my head, fighting back tears yet again. "Fuck. I don't want to cry. This isn't how I wanted this to go. This was supposed to be hot and sexy and fun, not a deal-with-Tea's-baggage festival."

"Baggage implies unwanted, and Tea, nothing about you is unwanted. All of this shit matters. It's you. It's important. We'll be intimate. We'll have all the time in the world for everything we want to do together. But how could we enjoy it if there's all this shit swirling around us? Me and my shit with Emerson, you and your shit with Luke. It's all a lot. Plus this whole crash-landing, bear-attack business."

"Not the most auspicious start to a relationship," I said. I then immediately clapped a hand over my mouth, eyes flying wide. "I, um. Shit. I mean—I don't…I don't mean to assume this is—that you want—"

"It is. I do," he cut in, knotting his fingers in my hair and yanking me down for a kiss. "I do want."

A bizarre flood of joy and jubilation tore through me, unexpected and potent. I don’t think I could've handled him saying anything else; I hadn’t even known that’s what I wanted until I said it.

Somehow, I'd gone from thinking of him as “the hot guy with the weird name" to desperately wanting every single piece of him that I could get, mentally, physically, and emotionally.

But right now, what I wanted most was to finish what I'd started: Jax.

Our conversational interlude had softened him somewhat, but this just meant I got to start over again, which I wasn't mad about. I gathered him in my hand and stroked him back to full erection, now lying on the ground beside him, my head on his chest.

This time, there was no stopping.

I caressed his silk-on-steel length with slow strokes from tip to root until he was groaning with his jaw clenched and his hips tipping him up into my fist. I felt his thick cock pulse in my hand as he rose toward climax, and now I sat up and straddled his thighs, gripped him with both fists, plunging my grip down and twisting, palming and fondling his balls while jacking his hot length.