Rules of Entanglement (15 page)

Wrapping his hands around the sides of her ribs, Jax lifted her enough to set her back against the armrest of the couch. The look in her eyes told him she couldn’t decide if she wanted to chastise him for man-handling her or let go of her need to control and see where it led.

He shifted over, keeping one of her legs behind him and pulling the other over his lap, until his hip pressed against her. Placing a hand on the center of her chest, he lightly pushed until her body yielded, allowing her shoulders and head to rest over the cushioned arm with her long curls spilling over the edge.

Seeing Vanessa in a vulnerable position like this was enough to damn near shatter his resolve. She was in an unfamiliar role, offering herself up to him without knowing for certain what he had planned. Shallow breaths caused her breasts to rise and fall, tempting him to abandon the game, tear off her bra, and devour the soft mounds until his lips were numb. And that was just the beginning of what he had planned for her.
All in good time.

Leaning over her, he licked a path along the top swell of her breast. The way her supple flesh gave way to the gentle pressure of his tongue made his balls tighten, and when she tipped her pelvis slightly, rubbing herself against his hip, his cock jumped in anticipation.

Jax knew if he didn’t finish the shot within the next few seconds, he’d lose all self-control. Salt, lick, shot, lime, and lick again. Having finished without giving in to his baser needs, he gave himself a mental pat on the back before supporting her head and lifting her back to a sitting position.

Her eyes weren’t quite as sharp as usual and she didn’t come back with a sarcastic remark. In fact, she wasn’t saying anything. Merely staring up at him, her lower lip creased in the center like she’d been biting down on it.

“Your turn,” he said, his voice rough.

Vanessa blinked hard, and he could almost see her coming back to herself. The dazed look was replaced with her cool, confident air. Clearing her throat, she gave a little toss of her hair and arched her brow at his still-close proximity. But he wasn’t letting her distance herself more than she already had.

“Problem, princess?”

“Of course not.” With a sly smile, she bent her front leg and tucked her foot between his legs. Jax clenched his jaw and forced himself not to react, even as lightning bolted from his balls all the way up his spine and back again. Instead, he casually held her leg against his chest as though he hadn’t a care in the world and listened as she took her turn.

“In college I got really drunk one night with my RA, and we ended up having the stereotypical and experimental girl-on-girl action. But it was just that once.”

“As much as I’d love the images floating around in my head right now to hold some truth, I’m going to say bullshit.”

She let out a noise that said she wasn’t happy with his answer. “What makes you think it’s a lie?”

He shrugged. “I probably would’ve believed it had you said it happened with my sister. It makes more sense because you’re best friends, and there’s that level of trust there. You’re too structured and in control to have drunken, spontaneous flings.”

The initial aggravation of losing seemed to dissipate under the interested arch of a single eyebrow. “You’ve been paying attention; I’m impressed. So where do you want to do it?”

His mind raced through a dozen possibilities—the couch, the kitchen table, the shower, the bathroom counter, the—
Hold up
. “Where do I want to do
what
?”

She gave him a saucy smile that said she was more than happy to rain on his fantasy parade. “Where do you want me
to do my
shot
?”

“Ah.” Yanking his shirt over his head, he tossed it to the side, and holding her gaze, tapped the area between his pecs before stretching his arms along the back of the couch.

She paused for a moment and stared him down. She was thinking about something, willing her brain to fire on all cylinders despite the Patron in her blood mucking things up. He saw the determination in her eyes the moment she made up her mind. All that was left to do was wait for the verdict.

Reaching over, she gathered the necessary items, placing her shot glass in his left hand, the saltshaker in his right, and her wedge of lime between his teeth. Then, in one smooth motion she rose up to her knees on the couch and swung a leg over his hips like she was mounting a horse. He’d thought he had the upper hand, but as he stared into her fiery green eyes, stretched out beneath her, holding things she gave him, he felt more like a submissive.

And at the moment, he couldn’t give a good goddamn.

Pressing herself to him, she slowly sank down, rubbing the crotch of those thin cotton shorts of hers over the ridges of his abdomen until firmly seated over his stiff cock. The double layer of clothing did nothing to prevent the heat of her sex from searing him through the material. He bit back a groan and forced his hips to remain still. Not an easy task when his dick wanted to play Heat-Seeking Missile and the hottest thing for miles was in the deepest recess of a redheaded beauty, mere fractions of an inch away.

Placing her palms on either side of his chest, Vanessa leaned over and licked a slow, languid path between his pecs up to the hollow of his throat. The softest of moans escaped like a purr from a cat savoring the last drop of cream in her bowl.

She raised her head, giving him a wicked smile as she took the shaker from his hand. A dash of salt and she was at it again, the coarse grains scratching his flesh before sticking to her tongue. Jackson barely contained another moan. He didn’t want her knowing just how much she affected him. Not yet.

His recently freed hand abandoned the back of the couch for the supple curve of her ass. She didn’t bother trying to get him to take back the salt, instead reaching behind her to place it on the table.

A moment later she retrieved her shot. As soon as his hand was empty it filled itself in the same manner as the other, all ten fingers digging into her ass, pulling her down on his hard cock. To her credit, she remained in control, the only sign she’d felt anything at all was a small hitch in her breath. It was enough.

Lifting the small glass to her lips, she slowly tipped her head back, gradually displaying her graceful neck as the liquid emptied into her mouth. Once she’d placed the glass behind her, she plucked the lime from his mouth and squeezed it over the center of his chest. The cold, sticky juice streamed between his pecs, through the valley of his abs, and pooled in his naval briefly before spilling over and soaking into the waistband of his shorts.

Vanessa scooted off his lap before he had the chance to protest, but as soon as she knelt between his legs, he quickly forgave her the infraction. He held his breath, his heart pounding in his ears, as she lowered her head to lap the juice from his skin. She trailed her tongue up the line of dark hair, laved the recess of his belly button, and continued through the valley of his abs and between his pecs.

The higher she went, the closer her body pressed to his, her breasts caressing his balls and the length of his cock on their ascent. Unable to handle any more torture, he grabbed her by the upper arms and hauled her the rest of the way until she once again straddled his lap.

The restraint he used to keep himself in check made his throat tight and his voice little more than a rasp. “You went rogue on me, babe. I pointed to my chest.”

She shrugged a slim shoulder. “Creative license. Do you object?”

“Not even a little.” He rocked his hips up once, making her gasp. “Did I taste good?”

“Like a margarita during happy hour after winning a long case.”

“Wow,” he said, rubbing the stubble on his jaw up her neck as he spoke in her ear. “That does sound pretty good.”

“I should try another sample, though. To make sure the evidence is conclusive. But this time,
I’ll
choose the location.”

He wanted to tell her she could sample him as much as she liked. Hell, he’d even give her suggestions for where to start. But he wasn’t going to rush this. Not tonight. Not again. Just as she leaned in to kiss him, he stopped her with a finger to her chin and said, “Then you’ll have to win that right.”

Eyebrow cocked, she leaned back to study him as though expecting him to retract his dumbass statement at any moment. A part of him—namely the part that was hard enough to nail railroad spikes—waited for the same thing.

He ignored them both.

“My turn.” He pretended to be thinking of a statement, hoping she’d take it as him trying to think up a lie as opposed to thinking up a truth. “Got one. I lost my virginity to my high school girlfriend’s older sister when she was home from college.”

“A college girl slumming with her little sister’s boyfriend? No way. Bullshit.”

He couldn’t stop the shit-eating grin from plastering itself on his face. “Wrong.”

“What? Are you serious?”

Jax had to wonder if her incredulity was due to the truth of the statement or the fact that she was actually wrong. Probably a little of both. Or a lot of both.

He held his right hand up. “Swear to God. Junior year. I’d just started dating Aimee Anders. I showed up at her house that Saturday to hang out, but she was late in getting back from a volleyball tournament. Her older sister, Jean, a sophomore at UNLV, was home for the holidays and told me I could wait for Aimee with her. One minute we’re watching TV, the next minute Jean was on my lap tutoring me on the finer points of higher learning.”

“Unreal.” Vanessa shook her head and added, “You realize that makes you a total dog, right?”

“Technically, yes, but Aimee and I were only dating to make her ex jealous. We were strictly friends, which absolves me of any wrongdoing.”

“Yeah, I’m afraid the jury’s still out on that one, Mr. Maris.”

Without warning, Jax grabbed her and tossed her on her back. Her wild hair spread out around her head and the smile she gave him was as bright as the full moon on a clear night. He pinned her down with his weight, pressing his hard length against her sex. She gasped and arched into him instinctively. He forced himself to hold still, despite his body’s insistence he roll his hips over her to find release in whatever manner possible.

“My turn again.”

“And where, pray tell, do you plan on doing it this time?”

“Talk is cheap, Counselor. I’m a man of action.” He captured her wrists and placed them above her head on the arm of the couch. “Be good and keep those there for me.”

“And if I don’t?”

“Move ’em and find out.” He nipped her earlobe, then whispered, “I’m kind of hoping you do.”

Without waiting for her to respond, he rose up to his knees, tucked his fingers into the elastic waistband of her shorts, and pulled them down. As he drew them over her hips, his mouth dried up and his eyes glued to her panties. Tossing the shorts over his shoulder, he studied the small triangle of sea green lace over black satin until he knew he could draw every detail from memory if needed. Only then did he allow himself to look at her body in its entirety.

“So damn gorgeous.”

He planted his hands on either side of her hips and slowly lowered himself. He hovered over the juncture where thigh met pelvis, keeping her bound with anticipation. Her eyes transfixed to his mouth and the rise and fall of her chest became faster and faster. The black of her pupils swallowed the green of her irises, her front teeth captured her lower lip…and still he held. She wanted his mouth on her just as badly as he did. But he wasn’t moving another millimeter until she asked.

Later, he’d make her beg.

Seconds ticked by, the pair of them locked in an unspoken match of wills. He felt the heat coming off her and he smelled her arousal. Finally, she succumbed to the need and rolled her hips up.

Good girl.

He gladly licked the line all the way up to her hipbone. A little salt and he was at it again, this time adding pressure and causing her to whimper, her body to shudder.

He took his shot, not even pausing to register the burn before squeezing a lime wedge along the lace edge of her panties. Not one to waste anything, he quickly dipped down and licked the stream that had spilled over between her legs. She moaned in the back of her throat as he moved to kiss off the liquid that had pooled at the top.

“Enough,” he growled as he moved up her body. “No more games. I’m taking what I want. What we
both
want.”

…

Vanessa could already tell her earlier thought process had been way off the mark. Drunken sex with Jackson Maris wasn’t going to be any less intense than sober sex. Probably because neither of them was drunk. Buzzed, yes. Wasted…not even a little.

It didn’t matter that they’d both just had enough shots to put most people on their asses. She should’ve guessed a man like Jax wouldn’t have suggested something he couldn’t win. The man could seriously hold his liquor, and it just so happened tequila was the only thing she could drink her weight in and still be coherent. Had he picked something else, she’d have passed out a half hour ago in an unattractive heap after making a total ass of herself.

But instead, she’d played a game with a dragon and ended up pinned beneath his massive body as he prepared to breathe fire. Golden eyes framed in dark lashes held her captive. With the instinct of a moth, she cupped his face and kissed his lips, sacrificing her better judgment to the hypnotizing flames.

Jackson accepted her kiss, then pushed her back into the cushion as he took over. His tongue was a sweet invasion, exploring and tasting between nibbles on her lips that made her feel like the most delectable of desserts.

Slipping one arm under her head, he snaked his other hand behind her back. With the flick of his fingers, he released her bra and tore it from her. Her breasts, which had always been very sensitive, felt heavy and full and charged with electricity. The moment his bare chest pressed into hers, her nipples tightened painfully, pleading for the attention they’d been denied the night before.

As though reading her mind, he broke the kiss and plumped her right breast with his large hand. His calluses dragged over her skin, causing delicious vibrations that had her arching farther into his palm. She never knew a man’s hands could create such sensations. She’d always dated white-collar men. Not because she preferred them, but because those were the men in her circle. Their hands were smooth and unremarkable. Not like Jackson’s. If she had any musical talent whatsoever, she’d write an entire album dedicated to the man’s hands alone.