Mercury Striking (The Scorpius Syndrome #1)(73)

Shock covered her face.

Then a tear dropped onto her cheek. His tear. Shame roared through him, and he moved away, mortified. More wetness coated his cheeks.

She struck out, grabbing his neck, stilling him. Realization dawned, widening her eyes, moving her mouth silently. Her eyes softened to the green of a spring meadow, filled with regret. Then sorrow. Finally acceptance. “Jax,” she whispered, her knees sliding up to cradle his hips, and her arms tugging him down.

He fought her for two seconds, and then he broke. Allowing her to settle him, he buried his face in her neck, his body rigid, one low sob escaping him before he could stop it.

Pain clawed through him. She wrapped herself around him, arms and legs, much smaller than he but holding so tight. One hand ran down his hair, offering comfort. She murmured soft words, sweet words, words lacking meaning but providing peace. Somehow.

He closed his eyes, allowing wetness to flow silently onto her skin.

“You’re all right,” she murmured.

He was anything but all right. For several heartbeats, measured in more than just time, he allowed her to comfort him. Her scent began to fill his head. His dick stirred against her sex, and he breathed out.

That was that, then.

He lifted and let her see his pain. Then he took her mouth, going deep, losing himself in the taste of Lynne. She opened her mouth on a sigh, taking him in, returning the kiss.

Pain turned to hunger, scoring him.

He cupped her jaw, gliding his thumb across her smooth skin. So soft, almost unreal considering the harshness of the world. How had something so delicate, so fragile, survived? Releasing her mouth, he kissed her nose, her cheekbones, her forehead. Getting lost, he licked his way down to bite her earlobe.

She moaned and arched up into him.

“So pretty,” he said, drawing her shirt up and off. Her breasts sprang free, her pink nipples already hard and waiting. He licked across them, sucking one into his mouth.

Her grip tightened in his hair.

Yeah. He suckled and nipped, worshiping her, caressing every inch.

“Jax,” she breathed, a protest in the sigh. A protest against emotion and gentleness.

He couldn’t heed the protest, too far gone to draw back. He wouldn’t allow her to hide, to retreat, to make them less than they’d just become. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, tracing a path down her abs, kissing along each rib. She gyrated against him, sweat slicking her skin, her legs restless. His fingers found her, ready and wet.

Heat burned his lungs.

He ran his thumb across her clit.

“Jax.” She arched into his hand.

Jax. The way she said his name, as if only she had the key to him. He moved up her body, kissing and licking on the way, his mouth finding hers. He grasped her hip, lifted her, and powered inside her with one strong push.

Tightness, wet and burning hot, coated his cock. He dropped his forehead to hers, his hand encircling her nape. Then he slid out and back in, the feeling as close to heaven as a killer like he would ever find.

She dug her nails into his shoulders. The small bite of pain spurred him on, and he started to thrust. Harder and faster, he tried to get so far inside her, he’d feel whole. Her hips rose to meet his, her neck arching as she pushed her head back on the mattress. His lips enclosed her jugular, her very life, and he held on. The headboard slammed against the wall, and the blanket fell to the floor.

Only Lynne mattered. Jax grabbed her ass and held her tight, shoving deep. She exploded around him, cascading ripples along his dick, her mouth opening on a silent scream. He hammered harder, prolonging her orgasm, until she went limp with a muffled sigh. Then he shoved deep and buried his head in her neck again. His balls drew tight, and electricity ripped down his spine. He held himself tight against her as he came, finally dropping them both to the bed.

She pushed halfheartedly against his shoulder. “Breathe. Can’t.”

He rolled off her, yanking the blanket off the floor to wrap around them both. He spooned her and kissed the top of her head.

“Um,” she murmured sleepily.

“No talk.” He curled her closer, keeping her warm. “Sleep.”

Her breathing evened out before he’d finished the order. He kissed her again on the top of the head, and then he closed his eyes.

In what seemed like mere seconds, morning light filtered between the rough boards of the window, awakening him. Aches and pains flared to life along his entire body, but he hadn’t moved an inch in sleep. Neither had Lynne. His sleep had been peaceful, without even a hint of his usual nightmares. He blinked. Hell. He hadn’t had a nightmare since Lynne had taken over his bed.

She slept quietly, her body lax.

His groin stirred, and he bit down desire. He’d lived in a lot of different places, and for the first time, he had found a home. With one small, brilliant, dangerous scientist. Slowly, so as not to awaken her, he slid from the bed and tucked her back in. He made no sound while moving around the apartment and yanking on somewhat fresh jeans and a shirt.

He tucked a gun at his back and a knife in his boot, heading for the door.

“Are you all right?” she asked softly.

He turned to see her curled toward him, head on hand, hair wild with curls. Her green eyes were sleepy, her cheeks rosy.

“I’m fine,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep. I’ll have Sami come get you closer to breakfast time, and then you can help Tace check the wounded before going through documents again.”