“You see what happens, Pandora?” he said harshly. “I hurt you. Even when I’m trying to stay in control, I hurt you.” He released her wrist all of sudden. “So, you want to throw a drink at me? Then do it. I deserve it.”
Her gaze met his, giving him a long, unreadable look before she picked up the glass. He’d never had a drink thrown at him before. He supposed it would be interesting to find out what it felt like. Cold probably.
Pandora’s eyes narrowed. Then she lifted the glass, tipped back her head and drank the entire thing before placing the flute delicately back on the table. Skirting around the table to his side of it, she slid over the bench seat toward him and with a graceful movement, eased herself into his lap, facing him. Her knees pressing into the seat on both sides of his thighs, she leaned forward, placing her hands on the back of the seat and holding on.
Her dark gaze looked into his. “Now what?”
Goddamn.
Shock held him still. He couldn’t seem to find enough air to breathe. All he was conscious of was the soft weight of her in his lap, the heat of her sex against his aching groin. The familiar sweet, musky scent of her. And those brown eyes of hers that constantly seemed to be daring him to do something he didn’t want to do. Or be someone he didn’t want to be.
Maybe she’s showing you who you’ve always been and don’t want to acknowledge?
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked hoarsely.
“You wanted me in your lap. So here I am.”
“We’re in public.”
“So? We’re supposed to be in love with each other, right?” She leaned forward, her breath hot in his ear. “By the way, I’m not wearing any underwear.”
Oh Jesus. Her hand dropped to cover one of his and she moved his palm to her knee. Sliding it further up the slit of her dress to her thigh. Then guiding it further still, up to the curve of her bottom. His breath caught—nothing but smooth, soft skin beneath his palm.
She shivered as she lifted her head, staring at him. Into him. Desire flared in her eyes, bright and open. She didn’t hide it. Didn’t pretend it wasn’t there. Didn’t try to control it. She never had.
“I want you,” she murmured. “And I don’t care that we’re in public. I don’t care that this is only supposed to be for show. What’s between us isn’t insignificant and the last thing I want to do is control it. And neither should you.” She leaned forward, her mouth so close to his. “You’ve been holding back again, Hunt. This is nothing to be afraid of and you know it.”
She was so brave. And beautiful. And free. Freer than he’d ever been.
Jax fumbled for the button at the back of the seat and the curtains around the table began to close, giving them privacy, and as he did so, she moved her hands, cupping his face between them, her palms cool against his jaw. Then she bent and kissed him, tasting of champagne and sweetness and heat.
Their kisses had always been exceptional and this was no different. All his good intentions fell away, burning to ash and he opened his mouth, deepening the kiss, one hand squeezing the bare curve of her buttock, the other slowly easing up her dress. She kissed him back, her mouth as hungry as his, her kisses just as needy and desperate.
Christ, she was right. Control wasn’t working. Neither was trying to stay detached and logical. So perhaps the only answer was to give in to it. Follow it wherever it led and trust her that it would be somewhere good.
The curtains closed around them, thick and heavy, shutting out sound, enclosing them in an intimately lit cave. Pandora gasped as he eased her dress up over her hips, sliding a hand between her spread thighs. Wetness covered his fingertips as he touched her slick flesh, then heat as he slid a finger inside her. She trembled, her eyes going wide, a moan escaping her. He pushed his finger deeper, curling it a little, making her shudder as he circled his thumb around her clit.
“Oh … Jesus … yes …” She leaned forward, her head on his shoulder, turning her face into his neck, her hips lifting, rocking against his hand. “That’s … so good.”
She was so hot. The tight clasp of her sex around his finger and the musky scent of her arousal driving him insane. He wanted her badly but he wanted to give her this more, especially after his dickish behavior earlier.
Tucking her head closer into his neck, he moved his hand, giving her the friction she needed, her breath hot and fast against his skin. She moaned, then turned and pressed her mouth to his shoulder, stifling her cries against the wool of his jacket.
Just as well. The curtains didn’t provide much in the way of soundproofing.