Page 54 of Kiss Marry Kill
“You are.” Jax laughed, his fingers laced with hers as the sound of the helicopter blades tore through the air. She looked so cute, wearing the same outfit as yesterday but without the hat. Her hair was in some kind of messy knot on her head, her face pink from the sun—and maybe from nerves.
“I hate heights.”
“You got this, Megan,” he said, pulling her gently toward the chopper.
If she hadn’t had a big huge grin on her face, Jax wouldn’t have pushed her to come on a helicopter ride of Miami. Last night she’d fallen asleep watching movies on the couch with him. They’d woken up with her pressed against his side and his arm around her. Oddly, neither was embarrassed. It felt strangely natural. But they didn’t talk about it either.
During breakfast she had confessed to never having done any of those touristy Miami things, so Jax made arrangements to spend the day showing her the city she’d never really gotten to know as part of the game they were playing: Five Things.
Hesitant, she stepped into the chopper. Jax followed right behind her and handed her a pair of headphones. The pilot climbed inside shortly after and went through instructions—since Jax had been on helicopters a dozen times, he tuned out the pilot, concentrating on Megan’s trembling fingers. Taking one of her hands in his, he smiled and said—loudly, over the noise and into the small mic—“We’re good, Meg. You’ll love it. Promise.”
She looked down at their joined hands and then back up at him and nodded. It took all of five minutes for Megan to go from terrified to pointing out the window with a huge smile on her face, but during the hour-long ride, she never—not once—let go of his hand. And it felt unfamiliar yet wonderful.
There was something about his woman.
The attraction was instant—but not just because she was gorgeous.
She was different.
She was wealthy, but she had not once complained about wearing the same outfit from the night before. He’d been with lots of women, none of them as well-off as Megan, and they all would’ve thrown a fit. They’d also all insisted on dolling up before stepping one foot outside, unlike Megan who had her thick brown hair piled up messily, her face free of any makeup. No frills, no pretenses, just vulnerable and sincere.
She also always tried to pay her share, but he wouldn’t allow it. And the thing he liked most, even in this short time of knowing her, was the way she looked at him. It was as if he could do no wrong. She listened to him—really listened—and then absorbed what he said. She put on a brave face and powered through whatever fear she had, putting all her trust in him. And extending that trust was the most humbling thing anyone had ever done for him.
As soon as they landed and climbed down, she jumped on him, wrapping all her limbs around him. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever done. Thank you, Jax. Thank you, thank you, thank you!” She kissed his forehead and then his cheeks, his hands were busy holding her up but he wanted to grab hold of her face and plant those lips on his.
Slowly she slid down his body. As soon as her feet were planted back on the concrete, he pulled her back to him. Time was suspended for a moment. There was no noise but her beating heart. She swallowed and her face became serious. Last time, their kiss had been spontaneous and she hadn’t really had the opportunity to push him away. This time—this time—he was going to make sure she wanted it too.
“I’m going to kiss you.”
Wide-eyed, she nodded. “Words,” he said, his nose moving softly down her cheeks to her jaw. “Need words.”
“Yes, kiss me. Please,” she croaked.
He palmed her face and touched his lips to hers, then searched her eyes. When he saw nothing but the same dazed lust in her eyes as he had in his, he moved forward, harder this time, and she opened her lips to him. Her hands tightened around his neck, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her as close as she could get. Forgetting they were in the landing pad, tuning out the noise from other helicopters around them, ignoring the tourists watching, he licked the seam of her lips while her tongue touched his, both battling for control.
“Jackson,” she whispered into his mouth, an erotic moan that made his cock harder than it had ever been. With closed eyes she turned her head, giving him access to her long elegant neck. He was about to palm her tits—those tits he’d been trying not to eye, obviously, for the last two days—when he pushed softly back, remembering where they were, not able to ignore the noise or the voyeurs any longer.
“Not here,” he said, barely recognizing his own voice. Quickly, he took her hand in his and led her to his bike. Getting back to his house—with Megan and her hard nipples pressed against his back while he fought back the most painful hard-on he’d ever had—was a true test of his self-control. She didn’t say a single word as he drove, instead holding him tightly, her cheeks pressed against his back.
When they arrived at Jax’s house, the heat of the moment hadn’t died down—a desire that hummed in the background all the time, a crazed need that happened when they kissed. He pulled her down to the couch, his hands roaming her body, his knee between her legs, her limbs wrapped around him as he kissed her lips, behind her ear, her neck, his hands staying over her clothes at all times.
* * *
“I should feed you,” he suggested at some point mid-day, when he felt her stomach rumble from underneath him. He looked down at her: she had a loopy smile, her lips swollen and pink from making out for the last couple of hours.
“That would mean that we’d have to move. That we’d need to stop kissing,” she pouted.
Without moving off of her, he pulled out his cell phone, dialed, and went back to kissing her, only stopping when someone answered on the other end of the line. “I want to order a large cheese—”
She put her hand over his mouth and took the phone from his hand, laughing. “Pepperoni,” she corrected, “and a dozen garlic rolls, please.”
Then she handed him the phone again, kissing his neck and his collarbone as he finished ordering and tossed his phone aside and went back to work.
Him palming her breasts while she sucked on his lower lip and gyrated against his knee, they continued to make out feeling crazed and needy. “Oh . . . Jax,” she moaned into his mouth when he pressed his knee harder against her core.
“You’re so fucking delicious, Meg. I can’t get enough of you.”
When the doorbell rang half an hour later, she begged him to ignore it, though her stomach grumbled in protest and her lips looked dry and sore. Laughing, he pushed off the couch and went to the door as she righted herself.
