He cleared away the plates, tossing them in the sink even though there was a dishwasher nearby. He followed her gaze and grinned. “It’s full, and I can’t be bothered emptying it. I’ll work on it later. See, I’ll bet you didn’t know I was a slob.”
“Hardly,” she murmured. She’d already noticed that Jax was a tidy kind of guy. There wasn’t a thing out of place in the living room—unless he’d made a special effort for her, which she doubted. Regardless, he’d make the perfect husband.
The thought came from left field, and she sucked in a sharp breath, which drew Jax’s attention. “What’s the matter?”
“Oh, nothing,” she said, thinking on her feet. “Bit of tooth sensitivity, that’s all. This wine is cold.”
It was a lame excuse, but what was a girl to do—tell him what she’d really been thinking? Yep, that was one way to make a guy run a mile, especially after so few dates, which was not what she needed to happen at all. Phil would kill her if she messed this up.
He picked up her glass along with his own and took them over to the sofa. After setting the glasses on a couple of coasters, he indicated for her to sit. He settled beside her and took hold of her hand. His fingers slid beneath the cuff on her sweater, and he pushed it up a couple of inches, revealing the bruise Phil had caused. It had started to fade in parts to a pale yellow, but there were still an awful lot of black and purple marks. Indie held her breath, waiting for Jax to make his move. Instead, he brushed his thumb over her skin, his movements soft and gentle.
His eyes cut to hers. “There’s two things I’m going to do tonight. One is talk about you and your brother, and the other is get you into my bed. The order of those things is entirely up to you—but both of them are happening.”
Her heart kicked into overdrive at the directness of his requests. She swallowed hard, and her tongue dampened her dry lips. “I’ll take option two first, please.”
That had two benefits. One: she got to live out her fantasies, which would at least give her something to hold on to when this was all over. And two: it was a well-known fact that men liked to sleep after sex. That was when she’d slip out the door and avoid the conversation about her brother entirely. It would only delay the inevitable, of course. Jax was far too persistent to allow her to avoid the conversation altogether. But a delay was better than the alternative. See, you’ve always been a coward.
Jax’s eyes flared. She waited for him to make his move, but instead, he studied her face, his gaze switching between her left and right eyes then dropping to her mouth. “I know what you’re thinking, Indie. But just because you chose option two does not negate the fact that option one is still happening. Tonight. You might think you’ve distracted me, but I’m well versed in delayed gratification. I’ll draw this out if I have to.”
God dammit. Was she so easy to read? She chewed on her bottom lip and gazed up at him through her lashes. Maybe the femme-fatale approach would work, even though she hated herself for trying it. “I know.” She caressed his calf with her toe. “I’m not avoiding it.”
“Liar.” Jax moved his mouth to within an inch of hers. “I’ll play your games, Indie. But it’s only fair to warn you that I play them better.”
Before she could respond, he kissed her. His tongue caressed her bottom lip. She opened her mouth, allowing him inside. She held his shirt in her fists, hungry for more of what he was giving her. The man owned her, body and soul. The way he made her feel was as addictive as any vice. Drugs, alcohol, gambling—none of them had the power to possess her the way he did.
His hands slid down her body and burrowed under her sweater. Warm, talented hands that set her skin on fire. So much heat. Scorching, burning. She gasped as he released her mouth. He tugged down her sweater, and his lips moved over her neck, her shoulders—searing lips that held so much promise. Her head sank into the cushion as she arched her back.
And then the warmth left her. Her eyelids fluttered open. Jax was standing over her, his hand extended. “Let’s go to bed, Indie.”
That simple phrase caused a rippling sensation inside her abdomen. This was really happening. And she couldn’t wait. She took his hand, and he helped her to her feet. As they passed the breakfast bar, he reached down and snagged her boots without breaking stride. He walked across the room to the door that was the farthest away. Her curiosity was pricked at what Jax’s bedroom would be like.
He pushed down on the handle, and it opened with a click. Inside, the room was sparsely furnished and extremely masculine. It suited its occupant perfectly. The paint on the walls reminded her of an expensive merlot. Set against one wall was a double closet in a dark oak and, against the other, a matching bureau. But it was the California king bed that dominated the space.
“I like to sprawl.” He kicked the door closed behind them.
Indie shifted from foot to foot as he walked over to the bed. He tossed her boots on it then turned around and crooked his finger, beckoning her. Something about being in his space had her nerves kicking in. Unlike at the club, where she’d been caught up in the beat of the music, here it was just him and her. Silence. And she was definitely too sober to play seductress.
On wobbly legs, she moved forward until she was about a foot from him. She stopped.
“Raise your arms,” Jax said.
She did as he asked. He gripped the hem of her sweater and pulled it over her head. Her skirt followed soon after. She was glad she’d taken the time to choose the right underwear: a violet satin push-up bra—she needed all the help she could get—with embroidered detail and a matching thong. Her reward was watching Jax’s eyes flare as his gaze traveled over her body, scorching her with those captivating green irises.
“You’re everything I imagined, and more,” he said, his tone hoarse. He took one step, which brought his fully clothed body inches from hers. He eased one finger inside the cup of her bra, the very tip brushing against her nipple. She sucked in a sharp breath.
He tugged down the material and bent his head. His tongue flicked over the puckered tip. Her body reacted, her core contracting involuntarily as he pulled her nipple into his mouth.
“Oh God.” She threw back her head, her mouth falling open. And then he was kissing her, hard, unrelenting, and authoritative. Her thoughts scattered when his hands fell to her ass, tugging her against his unmistakable erection.
She burrowed her hands beneath his T-shirt, her movements fevered as she connected with his warm body. Those defined muscles she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about flexed beneath her palms. She bunched the material in her fists and impatiently tugged.
Jax moved back, a faint curve to his lips. He bent forward, allowing her to remove the scrap of material, the last remaining barrier to what she really wanted—his naked skin against hers.
Even though it had only been one day since she’d seen his naked torso, her memory hadn’t done him justice. He was like a perfect sculpture carved out of the most expensive marble, from the broad, defined shoulders to the flat planes of his chest, the ridges of his abs, and that perfect V disappearing behind the waistband of his jeans.
Finding her spirit, her bravery, she dragged a fingertip across his abs, her desire rocketing as they rippled in response to her touch. With a quick flick, she unfastened the button on his jeans and eased down the zipper. He stood there without moving, tonguing his teeth as he watched her undress him.
She crouched, tugging his jeans down his legs, revealing taut thighs and only a dusting of dark hairs. He stepped out of them and kicked them to one side. Standing there, the thick length of his erection visible through his black boxers, he was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.
As she straightened, he said, “Turn around. Face the bed.”
Her breathing escalated, and she hesitated, her mind racing with what he had in mind. He raised his eyebrows, waiting for her to comply. When she did, he moved behind her, his hands resting on her hips, his mouth at her ear. “Do you remember what I told you in the bar
on our first date, regarding my thoughts about control?”
She nodded as the conversation came back to her.
“What did I say, Indie?”
She licked her lips, the anticipation Jax was creating by far the most exciting thing she’d ever experienced. “That you’re fine with women being in control.”
“Except?” he prompted.
“Except in the bedroom.”
His teeth grazed her earlobe, making her pulse jolt and her insides flip. “Good girl. Remember that.”
“What are you going to do?”
His tongue flicked over the soft skin of her neck. “Nothing you don’t want me to. Just relax.”
Her stomach flipped again. The tone of his voice, darkly sensuous, as well as the way his hands skimmed her sides made her pulse jolt with excitement.
“Lie down on the bed. On your stomach.”
She did as he asked. She expected him to join her, but when the bed didn’t move, she twisted to look over her shoulder. Jax was standing by the armoire, tapping on his phone. She almost called him out for being so goddamned rude, but then the lights dimmed, and soft music filled the room. Oh my—the man was a master of seduction.
“Close your eyes.” His quiet command was impossible to ignore. Indie’s eyes fell shut. The bed dipped beside her, and then the lightest of touches graced her back between her shoulder blades. She shuddered with delight as he began a journey down her spine, his fingers lingering over each individual vertebra.
His touch became a rhythm, and her body began to sing with pleasure. She didn’t know what she’d thought would happen when she agreed to go to his bed, but it definitely wasn’t this. He was thorough and unhurried, his talented hands applying different amounts of pressure at different points on her body.
He moved to her legs, caressing her thighs, behind her knees, over her calves, and ending at her feet. He pressed his thumbs into her insteps and massaged the soles. God, she was being seduced by the best. She let out a low moan as he sucked on her little toe. When he bit down, she jumped.
“Easy,” he said, his tone soothing, his thumbs brushing the backs of her knees in a circular pattern. The feather-like sensation went right to her core, making her clench her thighs so tightly she wouldn’t need a gym workout for a week.
“Aren’t we going to have sex?” she mumbled.
His low chuckle reverberated in his chest. “What’s the rush?” he murmured against the shell of her ear. “We have all night.”
Her insides twisted with need, excitement, and apprehension. All night? Most—no, all—of her sexual encounters had lasted twenty to thirty minutes tops. But “all night” held the promise of an experience she’d be unlikely to forget in a hurry.
He parted her thighs, his fingers kneading the soft skin there, then he eased her panties to one side, and his tongue touched her sex—only briefly, but enough to send a dart of electricity coursing through her.
She cried out, her body straining for more. “Don’t stop, Jax. Please.”
Another brief sweep of his tongue made her back arch as she raised herself up on her elbows.
“So impatient, Indie.” He grazed his teeth over the soft swell of her left buttock. “I approve of the thong, by the way. You have the sexiest ass I’ve ever seen.”
He moved to her right cheek, biting harder this time, before he laved the same spot with his tongue. Then he folded himself on top of her, his entire body covering hers as his thighs pushed hers even wider. His erection pressed against the crease of her ass as he circled his hips once, twice before grinding against her. His mouth was at her neck, her shoulders, her left earlobe. He was everywhere at once. The change of pace from slow and sensual to hot and heavy caused wetness to pool between her legs.
“Please,” she said, wanting him to stop torturing her yet desperate for him to carry on. He was driving her crazy.
“Please what?”
“Please fuck me.”
“I’m not going to fuck you, Indie.”
She let out a gasp. “What?”
He rose off her and spun her onto her back then rocked back on his knees and pulled her upright until his face was inches from hers. His eyes burned, the emerald-green irises seeming almost black in the dim lighting. He turned her hands over, palms facing up, and began caressing the centers with his thumbs.
“I’m not going to fuck you,” he repeated as though she hadn’t heard him the first time. She’d heard him, all right. She wanted to slap him through frustration, but then he added, “I’m going to worship every single inch of you. I’m going to make sure that by the time I’m inside you, the memory of every other man you’ve ever been with will have been erased. I’ll be the only one.”
Her mouth formed an O, and her eyes closed of their own accord, an appeased breath shooting from her lungs. He kissed her, his lips soft, searching, then insistent, demanding.
His weight came down on her, and she fell back into the soft pillows. He broke off their kiss and began the same soft touching as he had done on her back. His fingertips floated over her skin. He paused to pay special attention to her breasts and her nipples before moving to her stomach. Her nerve endings sparked to life. She could feel every single stroke. His eyes never left hers, even when he bent his head to kiss her belly. Only when he removed her panties and buried his head between her legs did their eye contact break.
Oh, but when he gave her what she craved, her every thought scattered. He parted her folds, his tongue plunging into her while his fingers played with her clit. She was close, so close. Almost… oh God… and then she was freefalling, her vision streaming with flecks of silver and gold as flames licked over her body. She made a noise she’d never made before, but he cut the sound off with his mouth. She could taste herself on his tongue as her orgasm went on and on, her muscles clenching, legs twitching, toes curling.
As he withdrew, her eyes fluttered open to find him looking down at her, his thighs straddling her hips. He scored her belly with his fingertip.
“Jax.” His name came out on a breath.
“You’re beautiful, Indie.”
He climbed off her and picked up her boots from where he’d tossed them onto the bed earlier. He dangled them in front of her. “Put these on,” he said, his voice thick with desire and emotion. “I’ve masturbated so many times to that image in my head. Now I want to see the real thing.”
Her mouth dried up. The thought of Jax stroking his impressive length, bringing himself to climax using her image, was a hell of a turn-on as well as the biggest compliment he could have paid her. She sat on the edge of the bed and slipped on the boots then zipped them up. She gazed up at him.
“Stand up,” he said, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.
She did as he asked.
He lay down on the bed and leaned on his elbow. “Turn around.” He spun his finger in the air. “I want the full three-sixty view.”
Her heart thudded against her ribcage as she obeyed his order. She’d never imagined sex could be so exciting, so utterly thrilling. But she was in the hands of an artist, and he was playing her to perfection.
When she came full circle, her eyes cut to his. His gaze traveled down her body, settling on the knee-high boots. His tongue swept over his top lip. “Sit astride me,” he said, flipping onto his back.
She mounted his thighs. He gripped her boots, his fingers wrapping around her calves. His cock strained against the thin material of his boxers, but still, he didn’t make a move. His self-restraint was not only admirable but enviable. Indie was far too impatient, too desperate to get to the finish line, yet Jax was clearly a man who liked to draw things out. He hadn’t been joking earlier when he’d said he was well versed in delayed gratification.
“Touch me.”
Aha. There it was—a slight waver to his voice. So he wasn’t as in control as he might seem. She eased down his boxer shorts, allowing his erection to spring free. The tip of his cock glistened, signaling the strength of his
arousal, and she bent her head and swept her tongue across the head. He hissed, and his hips bucked. She did it again, and again, and again. His hands moved to her hips, his grip tight, almost painful, which gave him away. He was closer to climax than he wanted her to believe.
She pulled him into her mouth, taking him as deep as she was capable of. He groaned, his neck straining as his head tipped back. She sucked on him a second and then a third time.
“Ah, fuck,” he gritted out. He gripped her shoulders, pushing her back. “Condoms. Nightstand drawer. Now, Indie.”
She flashed a triumphant grin at him and leaned across, making sure her breasts grazed his chest. Another hiss came from him, this time with a hint of frustration.
She tore open the square packet with her teeth and rolled the condom down his shaft. But as she positioned herself above him, he gripped her hips, stopping her.
“On your back. I want these boots over my shoulders. You can go on top next time.”
She shifted onto her back, drawing her teeth across her bottom lip as he pushed himself inside with a single thrust, filling her, making her insides fizz with need. With a hand under each calf, he lifted her legs and rested her feet on his shoulders, the heels of her boots close enough to slice off his ears.
And then he began to move. Oh God, did he move. His eyes never left hers, but she couldn’t help glancing down at the way his abs rippled with every stroke of his hips. He was utterly magnificent.
She felt herself getting close to the peak of the mountain, her breath coming in gasps as though the air was thinner. And then she fell, tumbling, freefalling, the ground rushing up to meet her.
His lips came to her neck as he climaxed. “God, Indie,” he moaned against the shell of her ear. His thrusts slowed and eventually stopped. He paused for a beat then rolled to the side, his chest rising and falling as he, like her, tried to catch his breath.
Indie curved her body against his, her head on his chest. She grinned up at him. “We are doing that again.”
The Blame Game_A Brook Brothers Novel Page 10