Chapter 4 #2
"Speaking of fun,” Isla said, straightening up with renewed purpose, "I could actually teach you two some real moves. You know, so you're not completely helpless out there."
"Yes!" Sierra perked up immediately. "I felt like such a fraud letting Connor drag me around the ice."
"Same," I admitted. "Though, being completely at their mercy isn’t a new thing.”
"Come on then," Isla grinned, standing up and beckoning for us. "Let's get you two skating like proper Christmas girls.”
We followed her back onto the ice, gripping the banisters, feeling emboldened by our secret plotting and determined to prove we could handle ourselves.
What we didn't fully realize was just how much the guys had been supporting us during our earlier attempts—guidance, strategic positioning, basically being human guardrails while making it look effortless.
Isla took Sierra's hand first, demonstrating a basic glide that looked simple enough. "Just push off with your right foot and let momentum carry you."
Sierra tried it, wobbled dramatically, but managed to stay upright. "I'm doing it!" she called out triumphantly.
Isla, so kindly, had tried to guide both Sierra and me at the same time, but without the guys' steady strength to help balance us, we were like newborn deer on ice.
When Sierra tried to pick up speed, she careened toward a wall. I instinctively reached out to catch her, which threw off my own balance.
Isla tried to help by grabbing both of us, but the combined weight and momentum were too much even for her considerable skill.
We went down in a spectacular tangle of limbs, scarves, and laughter, sliding several feet across the ice in a heap that drew applause and good-natured cheering from the other skaters.
"Oh my god," I gasped, struggling to untangle myself from Sierra's legs and Isla's arms. "Are we alive?"
"Barely," Sierra wheezed, but she was laughing so hard she could barely speak. "That was like being in a blender."
"A very icy, very public blender," Isla laughed, pushing her hair out of her face with dignity that was only slightly undermined by the fact that her Santa hat had ended up over one eye.
The crowd around us was enjoying the show, taking in what probably looked like three girls having the time of their lives despite their complete lack of skating ability.
A few people started moving toward us, clearly intending to help us up.
And then we heard it.
Three distinct, low growls that seemed to come from the direction of the warming hut.
The sound was barely audible over the general rink noise, but it was unmistakably territorial, unmistakably possessive, and unmistakably our guys realizing their girls were in a compromising position with an audience.
I looked up from our tangled heap to see Jax, Connor, and Adrian striding onto the ice with the kind of purposeful movement that suggested we were about to be collected, whether we liked it or not.
They'd abandoned whatever snacks they'd been getting, and their expressions were a fascinating mix of amusement, exasperation, and something much darker.
"Uh-oh," Sierra whispered. "I think we're in trouble."
"The good kind of trouble," Isla added with a grin.
Jax reached me, crouching down beside our pile of limbs with that insufferably smug expression I knew so well. "Having fun down there, princess?”
Connor had Sierra upright and pressed against his side, his expression fond despite his obvious exasperation. "What exactly were you trying to prove, sweet girl?"
"That we're independent winter sports enthusiasts?" Sierra offered hopefully.
"Independent," Adrian repeated with a snort, helping Isla dust ice shavings off her clothes. "Right. That's why you ended up in a pile like dropped scarves."
"We were doing fine until—"
"Until you realized you can't actually skate without us holding you up," Jax finished with that maddening grin. "Which, for the record, is exactly how I like it."
"I totally had it under control," I insisted, crossing my arms defiantly despite still being sprawled on the ice like a fallen snow angel.
"Mmm, I can see that."
"That was completely intentional and very graceful,” I added.
His eyebrow arched slowly, and that dangerous smile I loved and feared in equal measure spread across his face. "Oh? Really, princess?"
"Really," I doubled down, insides flaring with fun. "I'm practically a natural. That was an advanced technique you just witnessed."
"Advanced technique," he repeated slowly, his voice dropping to that low, amused register that always made heat pool in my core. "Is that what we're calling it?"
"Yes, and—"
Before I could finish my bratty protest, Jax's hands were on me, hauling me up effortlessly and tossing me over his shoulder like a sack of defiant flour.
I squeaked in surprise, grabbing onto his broad back for stability as he straightened up on his skates.
"Jax!" I protested, but I was already giggling.
"Keep talking, princess,” he said conversationally, as if carrying me around an ice rink was the most normal thing in the world.
"Tell me more about your 'advanced technique' while I demonstrate mine."
To my complete amazement and the obvious shock of everyone watching, he pushed off smoothly, skating with perfect balance and control despite having me draped over his shoulder.
The man was showing off, gliding across the ice like an Olympic athlete while casually carrying his girlfriend.
I waved at Sierra and Isla, who were watching with knowing grins, tucked against their guys’ sides. "See you later, ladies!" I called out, knowing full well what was about to happen and absolutely thrilled about it.
"Estelle's about to get her attitude adjusted," I heard Isla say to Sierra, followed by their conspiratorial giggles.
Jax skated us smoothly to one of the small warming huts scattered around the rink's perimeter, cozy little wooden structures meant for storing equipment and taking breaks from the cold.
He shouldered the door open, carried me inside, and kicked it shut behind us with a finality that made my heart race.
The interior was intimate and dimly lit, heated by a small electric fireplace that cast dancing shadows on the log walls.
Soft Christmas music drifted from hidden speakers, something slow and romantic that completely contrasted with the wicked intent in Jax's eyes.
He set me down carefully, but immediately crowded me against the wooden wall, his large frame shadowing me. His arms braced on either side of my head, caging me in.
"So," he started smoothly, his face inches from mine, "you had it under control, did you?"
"Completely," I replied breathlessly, though my defiance was wavering under his intense stare.
"Mmm." His lips quirked up. "And that spectacular crash was intentional?"
"Very intentional. I was... making a statement."
"What kind of statement?" His thumb traced along my jaw, making me shiver.
"That I'm... that I don't need..." I was losing track of my argument as his touch sent sparks down my spine.
"That you don't need me?" he supplied helpfully, though his tone suggested this was a very wrong answer.
"I..." My breath hitched as his lips brushed against my ear.
"Because from where I was standing," he murmured, his voice like velvet over steel, "it looked like my bratty little princess needed to be rescued. Again."
"I'm not bratty," I protested weakly. Even I knew it was a lie.
His low chuckle vibrated against my neck. "No? Then what do you call this attitude you've been giving me all day?”
"Confidence," I tried, but it came out as more of a gasp as his teeth grazed my earlobe.
"Confidence," he repeated, pulling back to look at me with those devastating blue eyes.
"Is that what you call talking back when I'm trying to take care of you?"
Each word was punctuated by a soft kiss along my throat, making me shiver.
"I like talking back," I whispered.
"I know you do," he replied, his hands moving to the zipper of my jacket. "And I love it. Do you know why?"
I shook my head, not trusting my voice.
"Because it gives me a reason to fuck the brat right out of you."
The words, spoken in his honey-smooth voice, made me melt completely. My jacket hit the floor, followed quickly by my sweater, leaving me in just my thermal top and jeans.
"Jax," I breathed, reaching for him, but he caught my wrists and pinned them above my head with one large hand.
“Nuh-uh," he chided softly. "Bratty girls don't get to touch until they learn their lesson."
His free hand skimmed down my body, tracing the curves of my breasts through the thin fabric, making me arch into his touch.
The Christmas music played softly in the background, something about silent nights and holy peace, while Jax sinfully drove me out of my mind with desire.
"Tell me you need me," he commanded, his fingers finding the hem of my thermal shirt and sliding underneath to touch bare skin.
"I..." I started to protest, but the word died as his thumb brushed over my nipple through my bra.
"Tell me," he repeated, his mouth hot against my collarbone. "Tell me you can't handle yourself without me there to catch you."
"I can’t handle—oh god," I gasped as he sucked a mark into the sensitive skin of my neck. “I can’t handle myself without you.”
"Liar," he murmured fondly. "My beautiful, stubborn liar."
He released my wrists only long enough to strip my thermal shirt over my head, then immediately pinned them again, leaving me in just my bra and jeans.
The air was warm from the electric fireplace, but I shivered anyway from the way he was looking at me.
"So beautiful,” he said softly, his free hand trailing down to cup my breast. "So perfect. And all mine."
"Jax," I whispered, not even sure what I was asking for.
“Hmm? What does my bratty princess want?" His thumb circled my nipple through the lace.
"I want you to touch me," I admitted breathlessly. "I want you to make me feel good."
"There's my good girl," he praised, rewarding me by unhooking my bra. "See how much better things go when you're honest with me?"