Stay with Me (26 page)

My brain closed down. I wasn’t thinking about
anything,
and I did it. I kissed him back. I slid one hand off his upper chest, around to the nape of his neck. My fingers tangled in his hair. I chased after him, wanting to taste
him
, and I did. He let me take as much as he took, and he let me learn the layout of his lips and mouth. My hips moved on their own accord, pressing against his thigh out of primal instinct.

“God, you’re sweet.” He shifted slightly, lifting himself to give enough room to do a slow slide of his hand down my stomach. “You know what I want? I want to see you get sweeter.”

Sweeter? I was breathing heavy, panting really. My lips felt swollen; so did my breasts. The tension between my legs left me swimming.

“Have you come before?” he asked as his hand reached the hem of my shirt, which was twisted around my hips.

My eyes popped open. What was he doing? I couldn’t let him get his hand under the top. Panic bit into the pleasure as I reached down with my other hand and grabbed his wrist.

His eyes were open, and they were the color of dark chocolate. They made me shiver and want whatever naughty things he was talking about. “Have you come before?” he asked again.

Heat bled into my face and I stuttered out an answer. “Y-Yes. Kinda.”

“Kinda?” He tugged on his arm, and with him being so much stronger than me, I couldn’t stop him. His fingers were below the hem, but not under it. “Meaning no one has ever made you come? No one but yourself?”

Oh my God, I could not believe he was asking me this—that this conversation was even happening. My heart was pounding too fast and I ached; my body literally
ached
.

His lashes lowered until his gaze turned hooded. “Yeah, I’m going to be the first to give you one.”

Holy hot shivers, he did
not
just say that. “Jax—”

An instant later, his mouth was on mine again, and he got his hand farther down, way below the hem of my shirt. The back of his knuckles brushed the inside of my thigh, and my back almost came off the bed. His hand was moving up, the slight touch against my inner thigh shocking me. I tried to close my legs, but all I ended up doing was squeezing his legs with mine.

“I’m going to touch you,” he said against my mouth, and my stomach coiled tight. Other parts of my body coiled tight, and I wondered if it was possible for a guy to make you come with just words. “That’s all I’m going to do, okay?”

That’s all? Before I could question that, he was kissing me again, and the back of his hand brushed over me—the
center
of me. This time my back did come off the bed, and he made a deep sound of approval. My fingers tightened in his hair and my other hand clenched his wrist. Then the tips of his fingers skated across my panties, and I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

“Calla, babe . . .” He kissed the corner of my lips. “Let me touch you.”

I couldn’t. There was no way. Letting him touch me was dumb.

“Let me,” he said, and his voice was like silk over my skin.

My heart stuttered, and my hand around his wrist loosened and then slipped up his forearm, to his flexed bicep.

I was so dumb.

“That’s my girl.”

My girl? Parts of me trilled at the sound of that, and then my blood really was singing, because his fingers had made a couple more passes, an idle circle over my panties that got closer and closer until I moved my hips, and he was touching the bundle of nerves, pressing down with two fingers. Rolling. Pressing. Rolling.

“Oh God,” I gasped against his mouth.

I felt his lips curve into a smile, and the kiss turned wilder as my hips moved against his hand. “That’s it,” he urged, working something like magic with his fingers. “Let me see you get sweeter.”

My head thrust back and his mouth skated over my cheek as I cried out. I might’ve said his name. I wasn’t sure. I was too focused on how the coil deep in the center of me unleashed, whipping out through my system in tight, intense shocks.

I could feel him watching me as the waves of pleasure eased off and my neck straightened. Part of me felt like I should be embarrassed. This was the first time I’d experienced anything like this with someone. As the pleasant haze of release turned my muscles to goo, I didn’t know what to do other than just lie there. I did let go of his hair and my hand slipped to his neck.

“Sweeter than I imagined,” he murmured, kissing the side of my neck. Then he rolled off, easing onto his side, and his hand slowly slid out from between my legs, stopping on my pelvis. “You still alive?”

“I’m not sure. I can’t feel my legs.”

He chuckled. “Just think. That’s really nothing compared to what it’ll be like when I’m in you.”

My eyes popped open and I was staring at the ceiling. His words shocked me, and then I thought about the fact that I had most definitely gotten off, but he hadn’t, and I looked toward him, about to point that out in what would probably be the most awkward thing ever, but all I could do was stare at him.

Jax was reclining on his side, resting his head in his palm. The cover was down by his hips and his bottoms were hanging low, showing off those sexy as hell indents on either side of his hips and the tightly rolled muscles of his abs. Yeah, he was rocking a six-pack, and yeah, as I slowly dragged my eyes to his pecs, I might’ve drooled a little. Or a lot. My mouth was definitely hanging open, but for different reasons.

His body was chiseled and cut and just wow, but his skin . . . it was another story. There were marks, dozens and dozens of them, all across his chest and over his abs, and I understood now why I’d thought his skin had felt rough.

Sitting up, I glanced at his face—at his lazy, half smile and raised brows—and then back to his body. The marks were like craters in some areas, where pieces of flesh had either been removed or sunken in. Other marks were puckered, healed over.

Without thinking, I reached out to him, and his free hand shot out like lightning, snatching my arm around the wrist. I swallowed hard as I lifted my lashes. “What happened?” I heard myself ask and then I swore under my breath, dipping my chin. Hair slipped over my shoulder, falling between us. “I’m sorry. That’s a damn rude question. I should know.”

“It’s okay.” He brought my hand forward, and the tips of my fingers brushed a scar. “Roadside bomb,” he reminded me. “Shrapnel sucks ass.”

Oh my . . .

I knew he hadn’t been telling everything last night. I lifted my gaze. “So you got Reece out of there, but you had shrapnel in you?”

“Yeah,” he said like it wasn’t a big deal.

But it had to be, because so many of those marks were over his heart and a lot of other vital places. Some were deep. They had to have hurt and bled a lot. And he managed to get Reece out of there? God, he wasn’t just brave. He was crazy brave. Our gazes locked, and I don’t know what made my mouth move. “It was glass exploding that cut my face.”

Jax didn’t respond as he slid his hand down, pressing his fingers over mine, against his skin.

“It . . . it was a backdraft,” I said. “There was a fire and pressure built up in the room . . .” My gaze broke free from his, shifting to his body, to the connect-the-dot map of scars. I’d never told anyone this. Ever. “When I opened the door, oxygen poured in or something like that and the window exploded.”

“You’re lucky.” He rose into a sitting position and his knees knocked mine. He lowered his head and we were face-to-face. “You could’ve lost an eye.”

Or a nipple, but I wasn’t sharing that. “You were lucky, too.”

“Damn straight.”

Neither of us spoke for a long moment, and then he was up and off the bed in like a nanosecond. “Let’s get breakfast. Maybe IHOP today,” he announced while I stared at him. “Then we’ll go looking for your mom. Plan?”

I blinked once, and then twice. “Okay.”

That lopsided grin appeared. “You got to get off the bed.”

Yeah, he made a good point, but . . .

“Wait.” I hobbled off the bed, feeling my cheeks heat as the words rolled right off the tip of my tongue. “What about you?”

He’d stopped at the foot of the bed, head cocked to the side, bottoms hanging so low I could really see that happy trail of his. “What about me?”

“You know . . . I, well, I came and you . . .”

“Didn’t?” The grin was spreading.

“Yeah. That.”

He tipped his head back and laughed.

My lips slipped down at the corners. “What’s so funny?”

“You are. You’re funny. You’re cute.” He came forward and he was right in front of me. “And you’re sweet as hell when you’re coming.”

Oh. Wow.

“I know I didn’t come, but honey, you never had anyone but your own hands down between those pretty legs before.” His gaze dropped to said legs, and I shivered. “That’s the first time you’ve had that and it needed to be about you. Not me.”

Oh. Double wow.

I gaped at him as he turned, starting for the bathroom. My insides started to melt, get a little gooey.

Then he stopped and twisted toward me, lips curved in a mischievous sort of way. “I’ll take care of myself in the shower.”

My jaw was on the floor.

Jax sucked his bottom lip in between straight, white teeth. “And I’ll be thinking of you when I do it.”

T
hings changed after a guy gave you an orgasm. Not something I’d ever considered before, since no guy had done that to me, but I was catching on pretty quickly.

I’d gotten back in bed while he showered since it turned out that we really were up early. It wasn’t even eight in the morning. I tried not to imagine him in there touching himself, but my thoughts kept going back to that and what it must look like, and that was, well, it was turning me on, which was pretty shocking considering I still wasn’t sure I had complete use of my legs yet. I really needed to stop thinking about all of that.

So I used that time to take stock of my life.

I finally had a non-Calla-induced orgasm, which was pretty epic. Part of me was proud that I’d finally jumped that hurdle, even though I was twenty-one when it happened. But I wasn’t sure what to do with it. I mean, what did it mean for me? For Jax? For us?

Oh my God, was there an “us” now?

My heart rate kicked up a notch as I sat straight up in the bed, staring at the closed bathroom door as I held the blanket to my chin. I could hear the water running from the bathroom and then . . . I heard him. Not groaning or anything like that, but he was humming something or maybe singing, but it sounded like humming because of the water. Suddenly, all of this was so intimate I wanted to jump out of the bed and run screaming and flailing through the townhouse and out into the streets.

What was I doing here?

There couldn’t be an “us” that involved orgasms and showers and songs being sung and breakfasts. I didn’t plan on being here forever and I planned on going back to college in August once I got the approval for financial aid, and that’s what I wanted, right? There was no future between us.

I blinked slowly.

And I needed to be focused on finding my mom so I didn’t end up getting cut up by some low-level gangsta, or worse yet, meeting this Isaiah face-to-face.

More important, someone like Jax couldn’t be in my life. The skin along my back had the consistency of—

So caught up in my own head, I hadn’t heard the water shut off, so when the bathroom door opened and Jax stepped into the bedroom, I wasn’t expecting it.

He had a towel knotted around his lean hips and his hair was soaked, brushed back off his forehead, and his entire body was on display.

Yummy eye candy for the win.

Damn, he looked good. Like good enough that I might’ve been drooling again.

“You want to shower before we head out?” he asked, strolling toward the bed like he wasn’t wearing anything more than a towel.

“Huh?”

A half grin appeared. “A shower? Do you want to shower?”

I was an imbecile. “Yes,” I squeaked, popping out of the bed. I grabbed my clothes off the dresser. “A shower is a great idea,” I rambled on, trying not to look at him. “You’re so smart.”

Jax twisted sideways as I passed him and smacked my behind.

I jumped and emitted another squeal out of shock, and he chuckled. Looking over my shoulder to shoot him a glare, I then realized he hadn’t smacked me with his hand.

It was the towel that
had
been around his hips.

And I was not only staring at his muscled back, which, wow, was a nice back, but also his muscled ass. “Oh my God!” I shrieked. “You’re naked!”

That chuckle turned into a laugh, and I whipped around, almost throwing myself into the bathroom, but it was too late. Those firm globes were seared into my memory.

He’d been naked! Totally freaking naked, and didn’t care. Complete lack of modesty there, and that further cemented there could never be an “us.” I had more modesty than a church full of old nuns.

I took advantage of the soap that smelled like him and the two-in-one shampoo and conditioner. It wasn’t until after I showered, had changed into my own clothing, and was twisting my wet, combed hair into a bun at the top of my head that I realized I had no makeup on.

Nothing.

What had been left on my face this morning had rubbed off a bit, letting the scar show more clearly. Dermablend was serious stuff, but it was most definitely off my face now.

“Oh God.”

My wide eyes stared back at me in the reflection, the blue so bright in the early morning sun coasting in through the small square window. My face had that peaches-and-cream complexion without the Dermablend—a coloring that no makeup in the world could replicate. If I saw only the right side of my face, I knew I looked better without the makeup, but I didn’t walk around with only half of a face.

Without makeup, the scar was still a deep shade of pink, standing out starkly against my complexion, slicing from the corner of my left eye almost to the corner of my lip. It was the only thing I could see.

“Calla?”

I stiffened at the sound of Jax’s voice and then gripped the sink. I couldn’t go out there. It was ridiculous, but I couldn’t let him see me like this.