Stay with Me (Wait for You, #3)(67)

And whatever answer he was waiting for, he must’ve gotten it. His thumb drifted along the swell of my breast, and my throat dried. Holy hotness, what were we doing?

“Forget about sleepy time,” he said, moving his lips against the skin of my throat again. “I think I like the fact you don’t understand it.”

“You do?”

That thumb went up about half an inch, and I bit down on my lower lip. “Yeah. I like you waking up.”

I had no idea what to say to that, and my lashes were slowly, but surely, lowering, even as my heart was picking up its beat and warmth was invading my body, easing out the tautness in my muscles at the same time it was building a different type of tension.

“You know what’s going on here.” His statement caused my eyes to open wide once more. There was a beat. “Please tell me you understand what’s going down here.”

“Yes,” I whispered, and then I said, “No.”

“Yes and no?” His voice had gotten deeper, rougher. Tingles danced from the tips of my breasts down to my belly and lower, much lower. “Care to explain?”

“Why?” It was all I could say.

Those lips skated along the side of my throat. “Why what?”

I was having trouble forming thoughts. I’d never been touched like this before, and it was barely a touch, but he had my senses spinning. “Why is this going down?”

“Because I want to.” His thumb glided again.

That wasn’t an answer. “But why?”

“I’ve already told you.” He pressed his lips against my pulse, causing me to gasp, and then he lifted his head, resting his weight on the arm next to my side. He stared down at me, his look intense. “It’s the same reason behind why I’m taking you out to dinner tomorrow night.”

My eyes were locked on his and my heart was pounding like it was stuck in a steel drum. That damn thumb of his was on the move again, evoking another wave of tingles.

“I like you, Calla,” he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

I changed up my next question. “But how?”

Jax blinked.

The one word change sounded pathetic even to my own ears, but I seriously didn’t get it. Half of my face was good. Half wasn’t. He hadn’t even seen the rest of me, and he was the kind of guy you wrote home about to your mom, your dad, and every single person you know. And I wasn’t sure if he’d known me long enough to even judge what kind of personality I had or—God, I couldn’t believe I was even going to think this—if I was rocking some inner beauty or not.

“What?” he said, eyes narrowing.

A different kind of heat crept into my cheeks. “I’m a realist, okay? I have been for a long time. I need to be, and you liking me—wanting to take me out on a date and do—”

“Really fun and interesting things to you,” he supplied.

I flushed. “Yeah, that.”

“Naughty things that are going to make you feel so good,” Jax continued, and his words and the way he spoke them turned me on like I’d never been before. “That’s what I want to do to you.”

“Okay,” I breathed. “I get that.”

One side of his lips kicked up. “Good.”

“But it doesn’t make sense,” I pushed on as I fisted handfuls of the blanket. “You’re hot and—”

“Well, thank you.”

I ignored that and tried desperately to ignore how his hand was almost entirely cupping my left breast. I didn’t want to think about that, because it made me think that if I weren’t covered up, he wouldn’t be doing what he was doing now. I drew in a deep breath. “I’m not hot. I’m not—”

My words ended because he dipped his head and his lips brushed mine. “We’ve had this conversation before,” he said, moving his mouth over mine. “And I’ve told you I wouldn’t kiss a girl I didn’t find attractive.”

“But you said that wasn’t a real kiss.”

“It wasn’t. This is.”

And then Jax kissed me, like really kissed me. His lips pressed against mine, moving as if he was getting himself familiar with the layout of them. My fingers unclenched from the blanket and I placed them on his chest, just below his throat, to push him off. His skin was hot and hard and rough. It felt different, but before I could really investigate that, he caught my lower lip between his teeth and nipped. I gasped at the unexpected bite and the rush of sensations erupting. He took advantage of that and deepened the kiss, slipping inside me, and I was no longer thinking about pushing him off.

The kiss . . . it was wet and deep and it wasn’t good or nice. It was great and everything the romance books claimed kisses were. Jax tasted me. There were no other words to describe that kind of kiss. Not when he slanted his head and touched his tongue to mine. Not when he flicked his tongue along the roof of my mouth, dragging up a throaty moan from deep within me.

Jax pulled back to say, “I like that sound. Fuck. I love that sound.”

My eyes stayed closed as my lips tingled. “I . . . I didn’t know you could be kissed like that.”

“Hell,” he groaned.

He kissed me again, and it was just as great as the one before, but this . . . this kiss turned into something more. The hand that had almost been cupping my breast was now seriously cupping my breast, and my body moved on its own. My back arched, and I made that sound again, and he seemed to really like it again, because there was a rich, decadent growl that rumbled through him. Then his fingers moved on my breast, and that damn, skilled thumb of his found the tip of my breast with unnerving accuracy. My head thrust back into the pillow, and his mouth followed me, nipping and kissing as his thumb smoothed over the hardened peak.