Jax (Titan #9)(58)

Guilt surged in his throat. He should share about Carrie, but he couldn't make the words form on his lips. They choked in his throat, made him want to get sick.

"Wow." Seven stepped away.

His head shot up. "What?"

"I didn't think, out of what I said, that that would be what pushed you away."

His face skewed. "It didn't."

"You look ill."

"Look." He scrubbed his face with his hands. "That has nothing to do with you."

"Maybe we should go back to the movie-and-sleep plan."

"Fuck no, Seven." He pulled her close. "You should let me kiss every goddamn inch of you until you can't take another second. Then you can sleep."

She didn't say anything.

His throat tightened. With his arm around her bare back and her legs pressed to his, all of him tightened. "I want to slide that skirt down your legs. I want you to untie that top." He smiled. "Because I'll never figure it out."

Seven's chest rose as she took a deep breath and let it out.

"I want to press you against the Vegas lights and lick your pussy until you come."

Her sharp intake of breath was as erotic a sound as he'd ever heard.

"I want to spend the night with you. In you. And I want to stay there until you're ready to fall asleep."

"Holy. Shit." It was so quiet, but the intonation packed the firepower of a bazooka. Seven reached under her hair and somehow unfastened the top that had mesmerized him most of the night. Then she did the same at the base of her spine.

The chaste frontal coverage fell away, and her plump breasts and hard nipples were bared. He closed the space between them, letting his palms drift over her sides and along the waist of her skirt. Seven's warmth radiated, teasing him as he moved his hands to the zipper at her back, dragging it down and loosening her skirt. With an easy tug, he drew it over the curves of her hips then let gravity do his dirty work. The skirt fell as she stood there, statuesque—the most captivating canvas he'd ever stared at. "You're really a work of art."

Her gaze slid to the side, a shy smile tugging on her lips. "I have my flaws."

"Fuck it, who doesn't?" Whatever she might've considered an imperfection, he didn't see and wasn't looking. Jax liked how her hips curved, how she had an ass that he could hold on to. He loved her jewelry and the simple way it highlighted who she was.

Seven turned her blue eyes back to him, dropping her chin but staring up through the mask of feathered eyelashes. "Take off your shirt."

He slipped it off as her gaze flared hungry then worked down his neck and lingered on his chest and abdomen. He had flaws too. Shrapnel scars and ugly, jagged tears on the inside of his forearms were evidence of the night he'd tangled with barbed wire and was days away from the closest medic kit.

"Your pants too." She winked. "I'm not going to be the only one in my undies."

"We're calling those undies?" He arched his brows as he kicked off his shoes and socks, hooking his thumb into his belt.

Puzzled, she looked down. "What would you call them?"

He sucked his cheeks in. "How about… I don't know. You should just take them off."

Seven laughed, and the sound ran over him, mixing with the confidence she always seemed to show. That, her asking for what she wanted, and the honesty that kept it real were more arousing than how her ass curved or her nipples beaded.

She reached her fingers out playfully. "You do me. I do you."

How was it they were prolonging what they both wanted, needed, and it was still so much fun? "Deal. Who goes first?"

"Me!"

He laughed. "All right then, princess."

He was halfway to full mast, and she hadn't touched him yet. No telling what the girl was going to do to him when she put her hands near his cock. Self-control could've been his middle name, but at the moment, Jax was the poster boy for a lack of willpower.

Seven slinked forward, her breasts swaying and her eyes locked on his even as her thumbs hooked the top of his boxer briefs. "Ready?"

He rolled his lips together. "Are you?"

Nodding, she let go of the waistband and smoothed her fingers over his groin, stroking his shaft through the cotton.

His head dropped back, and he groaned at how damn good the simple touch was, even with the barrier. He righted himself, giving her warning as best he could with just a look that she was a few strokes away from him not playing so nice and devouring her. "Tease."

"Seems like."

Harder than he should've, Jax pulled her close. Seven's gaze never broke, but her breath hitched. Not in a fearful, worried way, but in the way that made him wish his face was buried in her pussy.

Jax snaked the silk off her hips and pushed down her underwear until Seven only wore the high-heeled, black leather boots. "Now we should go to bed."

"I'm good with that." Seven wrapped her forearms around his neck, backing up to lead him through the suite.

They passed a desk and a trash can overflowing with a bright gift bag and tissue paper. Jax slowed her and eyeballed the only thing in the hotel room that seemed to have been touched. "Is it your birthday or something?"

"Hmm?" She turned, then her olive complexion paled as her eyes widened. "No. That's nothing."