Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3)(107)

“I think you need to stay here for a few days,” he said after a moment.

My brows pinched. “I’m already staying here, aren’t I?”

“That’s not what I meant, babe.” His fingers brushed over the finger marks above my elbow. “Stay out of the bar until . . . well, until this dies down.”

“What?” I pulled my arm away, and his chin lifted, eyes back to mine. “I’m not hiding in this townhouse or anywhere. And it’s not because I don’t realize what’s going on, but I need the money.”

His hands curled around the back of my knees again. “Calla . . .”

“I seriously need the money. Over a hundred thousand in debt, Jax. I’m not making a crap ton of money, but I’m making something. I can’t afford to chill out in the Jax Relocation Program.”

His lips twitched “Jax Relocation Program?”

My eyes narrowed.

He chuckled and some, not all, of the anger eased out of his expression. “I like the sound of this program.”

“I’m sure you do,” I retorted dryly. “I just . . . I need to be more careful, more aware of my surroundings and stuff. I mean, I’m sure Mo didn’t look too harmless in the bar. I need to pay more attention.”

“So did I,” he agreed firmly.

I started to deny it but figured there was no point. Some of the hardness was still in his face and I remembered the near-murderous fury in his eyes when we’d been at the bar.

As I watched him, something shifted in his eyes. The color was still dark, but it was warmer, hotter. It was late. Or early. Depending on how one looked at it. And there was a lot we needed to talk about, namely Aimee with an i and two e’s and his “you got to trust me” solution to her feeling him up like he was tenderized meat.

Yeah, we really needed to talk about that.

But as he stared up at me I could tell what he was thinking—I could feel what he was thinking. And after almost being kidnapped and after finally opening up to Teresa and Avery, the very last thing I wanted to do at four something in the morning was talk about Aimee, her wandering hands, and how that made me want to turn into a rabid kangaroo and kick her head off her shoulders.

I did need to talk to him. It was serious, and he was right, there would be some miles between us in the fall, and I needed to trust him.

And I did.

Sort of.

My brain sighed, literally sighed.

But then my body did a happy sigh when Jax’s hands moved up my thighs, reaching the hem of my shorts. One side of his lips quirked up in that sexy half grin.

Okay.

We could talk later.

Not giving my brain a chance to argue that that was a bad idea and I was tossing girl power or whatever crap to the side for some bow-chick-a-wow, I grabbed the sides of his shirt and tugged up. Wordlessly, Jax backed off and lifted his arms. In no time, he was shirtless and my hands were on his hard, rough chest, and once again I wondered how I’d gone so long without knowing what a man’s chest—Jax’s chest—felt like under my fingers.

I lowered my head, and Jax went the distance, meeting me before I was even halfway to him, and the kiss was sweet, it was careful and gentle. The tender sweep of his lips reached right down into my chest and squeezed my heart.

God, I was so gone for him.

His hands slid up my sides, catching my shirt and then he had it off me. I was bare from the waist up and the cool air washed over my heated skin as Jax rose, placing his hands on my shoulders. He kissed the corner of my lip softly and then his mouth trailed over the bruised skin of my jaw as he pushed me onto my back. Crisp hairs from his chest teased over my chest as his mouth glided down my throat. My hands settled on his arms, feeling the muscles flex in his biceps as he held himself up.

Then his lips closed over the tip of my breast, and my body sparked alive. My back arched and my mouth opened in a soft whimper.

“You’re so sensitive,” he said against my breast. “Makes getting you turned on and ready so easy.”

He was right. “Sorry?”

Jax chuckled. “Only you would apologize for that.” Then he flicked his tongue over the hardened nub, and my fingernails dug into his skin. He shifted his weight to one arm and then his hand got involved with my other breast, and it was Calla happy land, especially when I could feel him hard and pressing against my thigh.

Sensation trilled throughout my veins as his hand left my breast and skated down my belly. His hand flattened just below my belly and then slid under the band of my shorts. I cried out as he sucked deep and hard, as if he could draw me right out of my body.

And I really thought he could.

He nipped at the sensitive flesh and then lifted, rolling completely off me as he sat up and got a hold of my shorts and undies. Off they went and then his clothes were off. He disappeared and came back, a foil package in his hand. Once he was done getting that taken care of and his body was over mine again, he started all over, kissing the corner of my lip gently, moving across my bruised jaw and then down, to my left breast and then my right.

A moan escaped me as my back arched. “Jax . . .”

“Damn.” His voice was rough, deep as his hips rolled against mine, and I spread my thighs, welcoming him, wanting him.

When he started to draw away, I knew he meant to slow this down, to draw this out and drive me out of my mind, but I was having none of that.