“I chose you,” he says again, rougher this time. “In that lot. I chose you.”
My throat tightens.
“Jax—”
“Don’t make me be the only one brave enough to say it.”
He lines up against my opening, then pushes inside.The stretch is intense, a sweet burn that borders on too much. I gasp, my nails digging into his shoulders. He doesn’t stop, sinking deep until he’s buried, filling me completely.
He stills for a moment, letting me adjust, his forehead resting against mine. “Fuck, you’re wet” he grits out. “So fucking good.”
He starts to move. Slow, deep thrusts that rock the bed, the headboard hitting the wall with a steady rhythm. He’s not fucking me. He’s claiming me.
I meet him, lifting my hips to take him deeper, wrapping my legs around his waist to pull him closer. “Fuck,” I gasp. “Your cock feels good.”
“Say my name Nova,” his hand wrapping around my throat.
“Jax,” I gasp. “Jax, god, please.”
“You’re mine, Nova. You hear me?”
“Don’t disappear on me now,” he says, voice rough against my mouth. “Stay with me.”
I try. God, I try.
“Yes,” I sob. “Yours.”
He shifts his angle, hitting that spot inside me with every thrust, and I fall apart again. My vision whites out, my body convulsing around him as I come, clamping down on him.
“That’s it,” he grits out. “There you are.”
“Jax,” I gasp.
“Say it’s real.”
My breath breaks.
“It’s real.”
His control slips. I feel it happen. The steady, disciplined part of him cracking right down the middle.
“Again,” he says.
“It’s real.”
“Good girl.”
“Fuck,” he snarls, driving into me again, then buries himself deep with a guttural groan.
I feel him pulse. Heat flooding me. His body locked over mine while the last of my orgasm keeps moving through me in sharp, helpless waves.
He lowers himself against me, heavy and solid, his heart still going hard. For a second, I can’t tell where my body ends and his begins.
I’m sweating. Shaking. Completely undone.
My fingers follow the edge of the tattoo on his side. He doesn’t stop me.
I’ve been taking control of rooms since I was eight years old. Reading people. Managing exits. Always knowing what to say before anyone could decide I didn’t belong.