I Want You Back (Want You #1)(59)

Those startling blue eyes narrowed. “Hold that thought.”

“Even if it’s urgent?” I said huskily. “Or dirty?”

“Hold it close and tight and hard, especially if it’s urgently dirty.”

I giggled. Giggled. God. I never giggled.

“You, my beautiful Lucy Q, stay put. I’ll be right back.”

I remained standing so I could watch the muscles in that high and firm ass of his shift and pull against his jeans as he strode away. Then I felt like a perv and glanced around the bar to see if anyone had been watching me lust after my man.

Your man?

Yes, my man, I retorted to my snarky subconscious. So what if it was only the fifth date. So what if I didn’t know his last name. For the past month and at least for tonight, that hot, hunky man was mine. I’d unlock my neuroses tomorrow.

It wasn’t long after I’d seated myself that Jax returned with two clear glasses.

That’s when I noticed the bartender carried an ice bucket and set it on the table next to Jax’s chair. The bottle had already been uncorked, so he didn’t stick around.

“Champagne? What are we celebrating?”

Jax brushed his lips over the shell of my ear. “Us.”

Oh damn. That was really sweet.

He sat and reached for the champagne, filling my flute first and then his.

I lifted my glass, waiting for him to say something else sweet, or funny, or sexual, but he appeared at a loss for words, so I jumped in first. “To dirty cars, annoying cell phone conversations, to food and art and fun . . . all the things that have made us . . . us.”

“Perfect.”

We touched our glasses together and drank. “Wow. I wouldn’t have thought a place like this stocked good champagne.”

“I think it’s been gathering dust since the building was finished last century.”

I laughed. “It’s very well aged then.” I drained the remainder and held my glass out for more.

“Do you get tipsy from champagne?”

“Yep. That’s the fun part of drinking it fast.” I swallowed another mouthful. “I like how if fizzes on my tongue and then that fizzy sensation spreads throughout my body. No wonder they call it bubbly. That’s how I feel when I drink it.”

Before I took another sip, Jax moved my hand off to the side and leaned in so we were nose to nose. “I want to taste that fizzy, bubbly happiness on you, Lucy. Take another drink but don’t swallow.”

My internal temperature jumped to the combustible stage. Without breaking our sexy eye-fuck, I brought the flute to my lips. But I didn’t tip it up and drink right away. Instead I traced the rim of the glass with the tip of my tongue.

Jax was so close to me that I felt his deep growl vibrate down my throat.

Oh, hello, sexy beast. That was the first time I’d ever caused a man to make that desperate, greedy sound, and I really, really liked it.

Was there anything better than this powerful feeling of being wanted?

I tipped the glass and filled my mouth.

Then Jax’s lips were on mine as he curled his hand around the front of my throat, holding me in place. His coaxing kisses had me parting my lips, and he slipped his tongue into my mouth.

Cold fizzes of sweetness dancing on my tongue gave way to a deep suctioning pull that I felt between my legs as Jax sucked the champagne from my mouth into his. After he swallowed, he spoke against my lips. “Mmm. Sweet, wet and sticky.” His kisses were deceptively erotic, a soft glide of his lips across mine, punctuating each word as he maintained his hold on me.

Maybe the champagne had gone to my head, because I heard myself say, “Now I’m sweet, wet and sticky somewhere else.” I nipped his lower lip. “One guess where that might be.”

“What do I get if I guess right?” he murmured as his lips toyed with mine.

“A taste of that too.”

He groaned. “Jesus. We have to stop. I’m about to fuck you right here.”

“Offering the patrons of Borderlands a live sex show? We’d never be welcome in here again.”

“It’d be worth it.”

I laughed softly. “Your challenge for me tonight was to experience something new. So bring out the exhibitionist in me, baby.”

His mouth crashed down on mine.

This kiss was pure lust and I reveled in it. In him. In this moment.

Jax broke the kiss.

My eyes flew open and clashed with his.

“This passion is us too, Lucy.”

“I know.”

Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes, and he gifted me with a lingering smooch before his hand fell away from my neck.

He refilled our glasses, and I was surprised to see we’d almost killed the bottle.

“Drink up. Then we’ll dance.”

I peered over his shoulder. There was an open area ringed by tables, and music was coming from somewhere, but I’d be hard pressed to call it a dance floor. “Jax. I don’t think—”

“What will they do? Throw us out?” He tugged me to my feet. “I’d rather get tossed out for lewd behavior, so I’ll let you choose.”

“Dirty dancing it is.” I poked him in the chest. “For now.”

He granted me that sexy grin.

The first song was a soulful, bluesy jazz ballad probably from the ’80s. We swayed together, adjusting our feet and hands and body movements. By the time the second song started, we were in sync. By the third song—yet another soulful slow piece, I had my arms twined around his neck and I felt a hard ridge pressing into my stomach.