Page 52 of Beautiful Sin
Then suddenly the world tilted, and I found myself on my back, Jaxson’s weight pressing me into the mattress like the most delicious anchor. His body covered mine completely, all hard muscle and barely contained power, his thighs bracketing mine, his arms caging me in. I could feel every inch of him, including the hard length of his cock pressing against my thigh, making it abundantly clear that this wasn’t just a teaching moment for him either.
The realization that he was hard—for me, because of me—sent a fresh wave of heat coursing through me, settling low in my belly like liquid fire.He wants me. Jaxson Sinclair actually wants me.This wasn’t pity or brotherly comfort. This was desire, raw and real and reciprocated. If my face got any hotter, the fire department would probably issue an evacuation order for the building.
That strange warmth between us was becoming unbearable now, a living thing with its own heartbeat. The honey-sweet scent was everywhere, filling the air between us, making my head spin. It felt like being drunk and perfectly sober at the same time—hyperaware of every sensation, every breath, every heartbeat.
“This is how you kiss, Lan,” he growled, his hands cupping my face with surprising gentleness despite the intensity burning in his eyes. Like a dragon trying not to frighten away a particularly skittish treasure. Though most treasures probably weren’t actively trying to get claimed, weren’t arching up into the touch with embarrassing eagerness like I was.
I stared up at him, caught between terror and desperate need. This was Jaxson—my stepbrother, my protector, the man I’d been in love with for longer than I cared to admit. This was wrong, so wrong, a sin in so many ways. And yet nothing had ever felt more right, more inevitable. A beautiful sin I was desperate to commit, one that would probably earn me aspecial VIP section in whatever afterlife handles family-related transgressions.
“First, tilt your head… like this.” His thumb guided my chin to the perfect angle, the pad rough against my skin in a way that made me shiver. The slight calluses on his fingers reminded me of all the ways he’d taken care of our family, of me, over the years. “Now part your lips… just a little.”
I obeyed without thinking, my body responding to his instructions before my brain could even process them. My lips parted, my breath coming in quick, shallow gasps that betrayed exactly how nervous and excited I was. This was actually happening—I was about to be kissed by Jaxson Sinclair, the star of every fantasy I’d ever had, the man whose smile could light up even my darkest days. My brain was cycling through error messages faster than Colt’s laptop when he tried to run too many spreadsheets at once.
I watched, mesmerized, as he lowered his head, his eyes never leaving mine until the last moment. My heart was trying to punch its way out of my chest, hammering so hard I was sure he could hear it. Time seemed to slow, stretching into infinity as he closed the distance between us.
Oh my God, this is happening, this is actually happening, he’s going to kiss me, Jaxson is going to kiss me, am I dreaming? I must be dreaming. If this is a dream, please don’t let me wake up, not yet, not until?—
The first brush of his lips against mine silenced every thought in my head like someone had hit the master reset button on my brain. Soft, warm pressure—that’s all it was, and yet it sent lightning racing through my entire body. His lips were softer than I’d imagined, but firmer too, moving against mine with a gentle insistence that made my toes curl. Heat bloomed where our mouths connected, radiating outward until my entire body felt feverish with want.
The warmth in my chest that had been building since he first touched me flared suddenly, spreading through me like wildfire, reaching to every extremity until I felt like I might be glowing from within. It was a sensation entirely new yet somehow familiar, as if my body remembered this connection even if my mind didn’t—a recognition so deep it bypassed conscious thought entirely.
I made a sound—something embarrassing and needy that belonged in Bree’s romance collection rather than real life—and he responded with a growl that vibrated against my lips. The kiss changed instantly, deepening from gentle exploration to hungry claiming. His mouth moved more firmly against mine, no longer asking but taking, demanding a response I was eager to give.
Just when I thought I understood what kissing was, he changed the game entirely—like finding out you’ve been drinking room-temperature water your whole life and suddenly someone hands you a glass of ice-cold perfection on a summer day. His tongue traced the seam of my lips—hot, wet, insistent—and I gasped at the new sensation. He took immediate advantage, his tongue plunging into my mouth with a confidence that made my head spin.
Oh fuck.The feeling of his tongue sliding against mine was so alien, so intimate that I froze for a heartbeat. This was someone else’s tongue in my mouth. Jaxson’s tongue in my mouth. The strangeness of it hit me first—the wetness, the heat, the way it took up space that had never been invaded before. It should have been weird, maybe even gross, but instead it was the hottest thing I’d ever experienced. If this was what kissing was really like, no wonder people wrote songs and poems and entire novels about it.
His tongue stroked mine, coaxing, teasing, teaching me a rhythm I didn’t know my body already understood. I didn’t know what to do, how to respond—what was the protocolwhen someone else’s tongue was exploring the inside of your mouth? Did I move mine too? Did I stay still? This was a skill Bree’s romance novels had definitely not prepared me for. My inexperience must have been obvious because he pulled back just enough to whisper against my lips.
“Follow my lead,” he murmured, his breath hot against my damp lips. “Don’t think, just feel.”
Don’t think, just feel.Easy for him to say when he wasn’t the one having a complete system meltdown. My brain was firing error messages like a poorly coded program:Error 404: Coherent Thought Not Found.
Then his mouth was on mine again, his tongue delving deeper, and this time I let instinct take over. My tongue met his, tentatively at first, then with growing confidence as I mimicked his movements. The slide of tongue against tongue created a friction that shouldn’t have been so electrifying, but each stroke sent sparks racing down my spine, pooling low in my belly.
Fifteen
LAN
As we kissed, that strange warmth in my chest intensified, pulsing in time with my racing heartbeat. It felt almost as if something golden and bright was flowing between us, connecting us in ways I couldn’t understand but my body somehow recognized. The sensation reminded me of that first night in my room—the ember-warmth that had lingered long after Jaxson left—but stronger now, more insistent, as if whatever had been awakened then was growing, evolving with each touch we shared.
He angled his head, changing the depth of the kiss, and suddenly his tongue was reaching places I didn’t know could be touched—grazing the roof of my mouth, exploring every corner, claiming every inch as his territory. The sheer intimacy of it made me dizzy. This was Jaxson tasting me, learning me from the inside out, and I was letting him, welcoming him, wanting more. It was like he’d found the instruction manual to my pleasure and was highlighting all the important passages.
Then he did something that short-circuited my brain entirely—he sucked on my tongue, drawing it into his mouth with a gentle pressure that made my hips buck involuntarily. The suction created a direct line of sensation from my mouth tomy cock, which hardened so fast it made me lightheaded. My mind flashed to an image of Jaxson between my legs, that same mouth, that same suction, and I moaned into his mouth, unable to contain the sound.
If my body were an instrument, he’d just found the perfect note, unlocking a sound I didn’t know I could make. Apparently, all it takes is Jaxson’s tongue to turn me into some kind of vocal performer. The embarrassing part was how easy it was for him, how quickly I surrendered.
The vibrations of my moan seemed to trigger something in him. His hands tightened their grip on my face, tilting my head to give him better access as he deepened the kiss to a level I didn’t know existed. This wasn’t just kissing anymore—this was devouring. He was consuming me, eating me alive, and I was offering myself up willingly, eagerly, like the world’s most enthusiastic sacrifice.
As our kiss intensified, that strange warmth between us grew stronger, more insistent. Small flickers of what almost felt like golden light seemed to dance behind my closed eyelids, though I knew that had to be my imagination. The connection between us was becoming almost tangible, a living thing that pulsed and flowed with each shared breath, each slide of his tongue against mine, each racing beat of our hearts.
His body pressed harder against mine, every line of his muscled frame aligning perfectly with my smaller one. I could feel him everywhere—the solid wall of his chest against mine, the hard planes of his stomach, the unmistakable ridge of his cock pressing against my thigh. The evidence of his desire made me bolder, more desperate. I arched up, seeking more contact, more friction, more of everything he was willing to give.
Oxygen became a distant concern as he kissed me harder, deeper, his tongue thrusting into my mouth in a rhythm that mimicked something far more intimate. I couldn’t breathe,didn’t want to breathe if it meant breaking this connection. My hands clutched at his shoulders, his back, his hair—anywhere I could reach, needing to anchor myself in this storm of sensation. If this was how I died—oxygen-deprived from the world’s most intense kiss—at least I’d go out happy.
When he finally pulled back, I was gasping, my chest heaving as if I’d just run a marathon. Or more accurately, as if I’d actually participated in one of Colt’s dawn workouts instead of pretending to be asleep when he knocked on my door. My lips felt swollen, sensitive, buzzing with the ghost of his pressure. I stared up at him, dazed and wanting, unable to form coherent thoughts beyondmoreandpleaseandagain.
“Good,” he breathed, his voice rough with desire, his eyes tracking the movement as I licked my lips, chasing his taste. “Now, when I deepen the kiss again, open for me. Let your tongue meet mine… yes, just like that.”
