One Woman (Naked Trilogy 2)

Jax’s hand settles on my hip, a warm possessive touch, his voice low, rough. “I don’t invite people into my world, Emma, especially not after my brother’s death.”

“But I’m here,” I say, understanding in my statement. My hand settles on his chest, over his thundering heart. “And I want to be here. I am here.”

“And so am I.” It’s clear now that we’re not talking about here, as in the castle, but here, present, with each other. His hand slides under my hair, settling on my neck and his mouth lowers to my mouth. “Beyond reason,” he adds, “beyond all that should feel logical to anyone who knows the dynamic of our families, I so fucking am.” He’s barely spoken the words when his mouth slants over mine, and I can taste his urgency, his need, his fear. And God, I understand those things, I understand that fear. Fear that we’re poison to each other. Fear that my father was involved in his brother’s death. Fear that there is more death to follow. We both lost people. We both know we could lose each other. And at least right now, we need each other too much to let that happen.

CHAPTER FIVE

Emma…

I don’t want to think about murder, or Brody, or my father.

All I want is the next lick of this man’s tongue. I need that escape. I need out of my head. I need inside the high that is this man all over me, in every way possible. I arch into him, consumed by passion. Still, though, those moments on the ledge cut through my mind, demanding control. Desperate to push them away, I do what I never dare and lose myself in the moment.

Need expands in my belly, burning low, slicking my thighs. Jax molds me closer, his body pressed to mine. His jacket falls away, and I moan with the taste and feel of him, and I’m not even trying to hold back. I slide my hands over his chest, heat radiating through the thin material of his dress shirt, his muscles flexing beneath my palms. A low growl escapes his lips, and I revel in my ability to predict that response. I revel in knowing that he wants me the way I want him. He cups my backside and pulls me hard against him, the thick ridge of his erection pressed to my belly. Now, I’m the one moaning, licking into his mouth, touching him. I can’t stop touching him and kissing him. We’re all over each other, and still, those memories, those flashes of me on that landing, won’t stop.

“Emma,” Jax says, tearing his mouth from mine, his hands on my face, while I pant with the sudden disconnect of his mouth with my mouth. “If we don’t stop now, I’m not going to stop.”

“I don’t remember asking you to stop.”

“I have security around the property, and we need to be alone.”

Alone is good, I think, which is an effort, considering my body is still on fire.

“There’s a private entrance to my tower.” He scoops up his jacket and pulls it around me again. “We can avoid the public altogether. Slide your arms in, baby.”

I do as he says, and for some reason, that “baby” endearment has my belly fluttering when it hasn’t before, not like now. He rolls up the sleeves for me, and I can’t explain it, but there’s a new level of intimacy between us that is bittersweet, considering all that has happened tonight.

He laces the fingers of one of my hands with his. “Let’s go inside.”

There’s a part of me that hesitates, that even screams not to go back in that castle, but Jax’s confessions about why he brought me here, why he struggles to be here himself beat down those hesitations. “Yes. Let’s go inside.”

His eyes warm, and I think I see relief in his stare. He was afraid I’d leave. The insecure part of me, the part my father planted and watered for most of my life, could believe that he needs me here, that he needs answers I might have to give. But that’s not what I feel with Jax. We’re together in our quest for knowledge, and I’m not the useless girl my father chose to see. I’m the woman who stood outside my father’s line of sight, who scouted hotel locations, who started them from the ground up, who lived a life he never even noticed, who chooses to follow her instincts. And I choose to believe this connection I feel with Jax is real.

He lifts my hand and kisses it, tenderness that defies the tone of this night, in his touch. He folds our elbows and turns us to the dock. We begin our travels down the wooden planks to the garden path. Once there, when we would turn toward the front of the castle, Jax leads me in the opposite direction, down another dark, narrow path. Perhaps this should scare me. I wait for that feeling of fear to come to me; I mean, after all, his brother did hang me out over a ledge tonight, but it doesn’t come.