Chapter 41
HART
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SHE LEANS IN close, a sly curve tugging her mouth.
“Can’t or won’t?”
“Can’t.” But my word cracks.
She bites her lip, eyes glinting. “Cute. Try again with some confidence this time.”
“Jade—” This time, my voice is stripped bare, and I watch her take it in.
“Can’t what?” Her confusion and hurt are apparent.
She thinks I’m denying her.
Shit.
I take a deep breath, my gaze dropping between us for a moment before meeting hers again.
“It’s just”—If my hands weren’t occupied holding her wrist and gripping her waist, I’d scrub them over my face—“I’ve done this before.”
“Done what?”
Her gaze follows mine to the jar of honey she’s holding.
“Oh.” Her mouth is a perfect circle, and the urge to taste her nearly wrecks me.
“And it didn’t end well.”
Her focus clings to that honey for a long time before returning to lock with mine.
“Because of me? Because of the rumors?”
I want to tell her no, to stop the guilt stealing her features, but I can’t find it in myself to be dishonest about this.
“It’s okay,” I promise. “I just don’t want it to ruin this moment. This perfect, amazing moment with you.”
“I think I already did.” She starts to swing her leg off me, but I catch her waist and keep her planted.
“Hey now.” I cup the side of her face. “We’re not doing that.”
She only stares at me, her eyes smothered by quiet remorse.
“We’re not regretting our past mistakes every time one comes and bites us in the ass.”
Does she realize that we wouldn’t even be here if she hadn’t forgiven me? And I messed up so much worse.
“Fuck, Jade, there’s been a lot of mistakes.”
“What happened?”
I shake my head.
I don’t want to be talking about another woman right now. But it’s not like that with us. There’s no jealousy. No competition. It’s like we both know, it’s only ever been us.
I flash a crooked smile, hoping to lighten the heaviness shadowing her expression. “Let’s just say, I was tied up, and there wasn’t only honey involved.”
Her brows rise just enough to betray her self-blaming with curiosity.
Jade’s curiosity.
The rule-follower whose mind wanders to every taboo and thrilling desire. And that curious look of hers scatters every coherent thought I have.
“There were also feathers.” But now, I can’t even remember why I dislike them. “A lot of feathers.”
“Like feathers on the honey?” Her body settles onto my lap again, traces of doubt and tension letting go, and her warm core pressing against my cock.
“Can you even attempt to ask that without enjoyment in your tone?” I tease.
“It’s a very serious question.” That smile of hers is anything but serious. “Like drizzled honey—”
“Slathered. Fucking slathered.”
She slaps a hand over her mouth, and a muffled laugh breaks free. “I’m so sorry.”
“No, you’re not. Give me that.” I reach for the jar.
“No.” She clutches the jar to her chest, spinning just out of my reach.
Her laughter spreads through me like wildfire. I catch her other wrist before she can twist away and guide her honeyed finger across her cheek.
“Ahhh!”
She squirms, jerks, and tries to pull free, but I match her movements, leaning closer, feeling her warmth press into me.
I’m on fire.
Every little struggle and soft gasp makes my pulse spike, my chest tighten, and my cock harder.
I catch her face in my hand and bring her honeyed cheek to my mouth. I trail my tongue along her jaw, scooping up the sweet taste, licking upward, and spreading the stickiness across her cheek.
“Hart!” I capture her squeal with my mouth and share the honey with her.
Playful at first.
Her lips part, and I take the invitation, my tongue sliding into her mouth, tasting her fully. She moans softly, and the sound vibrates against my lips. Her body arches into mine, so perfect, so right. Her hands clutch my shoulders, her nails digging into my skin.
I groan into her mouth, and a spark of laughter bubbles up her chest. I swallow it with another kiss. Then I devour her lips, urgent and hungry, tasting every last inch of her. She’s delicious, and it isn’t just the fucking honey.
It’s her.
And I savor every second.
The heat between us builds. My pulse quickens. Her heart races against my chest, and our breaths come in short, ragged gasps.
When we part, she wraps her arms around my neck. I’ll never get tired of looking at her like this. I crave these moments when she’s unguarded. When she lets me pass all the careful walks she’s built with everyone else. When it’s just Jade.
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
I grip the back of her neck. “It was fucking amazing,” I breathe out in a husky rasp. “You’re amazing.” My tone is gentle this time.
Her lips glisten, and she nibbles at the traces of honey left there, giving honey a whole new meaning.
She catches me staring. “You want to lick the honey off my lips again, don’t you?”
If a growl is an answer, then I answer loud and clear.
Her finger slides down her lip, dripping a trail of the gooey stuff I swore I’d never go near again. My mouth all but attacks hers. Our tongues tangle, our breaths intertwine. My hands move, mapping the contours of her body, her waist, her hips, and her back.
Tasting her, claiming her, it’s this primal need to make her feel every ounce of the desire I’ve been holding back.
“My turn,” she rasps against my mouth. “If you trust me.”
My heart pounds, but I nod.
She sits back on my lap, her gaze not leaving mine. This time, she drips the honey on my wrist. I suck in a breath between my teeth.
She hesitates, her eyes flicking from my wrist and back to me. This moment is different than last time. It’s not a performance, not a pretext, but a shared vulnerability.
She brings my wrist to her mouth, her hooded eyes watching me. Her tongue darts over her lips before her warm, rough tongue drags over my wrist.
My dick thrums.
How the fuck does one little lick send my body into this erotic mode? I want to flip her on her back and sink into her wet, waiting heat.
But I don’t.
I can’t move a fucking muscle. And honey is involved.
She laps the honey in steady strokes. Each lick is greedy, leaving a cool trail.
When she finishes, she licks her lips. “How was that?”
“Fucking incredible.”
“You didn’t mind the honey?”
I shake my head, realizing it’s the truth.
“Have you ever played hide and seek?”
“When I was ten.” My voice rumbles with amusement.
She smiles, eyes sparkling with a challenge as she dips her finger back in the honey.
I don’t even question the anticipation riding through me.
Her teeth clamp her lower lip as her hand disappears beneath the lower hem of her shirt.
My gaze dips down the opening at the top of the oversized T-shirt, transfixed on her honey-coated finger, after momentarily being distracted by the top of her smooth breasts. It’s the kind of smooth that invites your hand and mouth to slide across.
She glides the honey along her skin, tracing the valley between her breasts.
My insides light on fire.
My mouth waters.
My cock jerks.
Honey has never looked fucking better.
She brings her finger to her mouth. Honey clings to her fingertip. She slowly licks the sticky sweetness from her skin.
I’m jealous.
A shiver of current pulses through me. Fast, hot, and impossible to ignore.
“I hid the honey,” she purrs, the velvety sound rolling off her tongue. “Now you go find it.”
The challenge hangs in the air between us. The thrilling thoughts that go through my head. Tearing the shirt over her head. Not wasting time, and just ripping it down the center.
But I like a good challenge. Besides, if I really left her lacking the first time, I plan to make up for it every moment were together.
“Stand up,” I command.
Her smile ignites enough to dive headfirst into this game.
I half-lift her, and she half-stands on her own. Her breaths are so deep, I see her breasts swell and fall under the baby blue material.
I slowly rise to my knees, dragging my hand up the back of her legs to firmly cup her ass. She gasps my name when I dig my fingertips into her cheeks, only urging me on.
My head nudges the hem of her shirt, and without my hands, I disappear underneath it.
She laughs, grasping my shoulders for balance, but I got her.
I will always have her.
I press my tongue against just above the waistline of her pants. Warm and smooth. Richer than I expect, and I let the tip of my tongue trace circles along the denim edge.
Her scent is intoxicating, a blend of floral and natural notes. I can’t guess it, but it’s all my Jade.
I don’t rush. Each lick pulls me deeper into the moment—soft, slow, a private little ritual. A moment no one else can ever touch.
I lick a trail up her stomach to her breasts tucked neatly in her bra. That damn thing has got to come off, but not yet.
Her shirt traps me like I’m in a cocoon, and I bask in her scent and warmth.
I find the honey pooling between her breasts.
My focus sharpens.
This is the real prize.
I shift closer, tongue darting out to trace the borders of the golden puddle. It’s liquid gold here, pure indulgence, almost hypnotic. I slow, concentrating on each lick, letting the honey coat every inch of my tongue.
Her chest rises and falls, and her nails dig into my flesh, stinging. It fuels that push in me, waking every nerve.
The sweetness clings to her skin, sticky and delicious. I explore, both gentle and hungry—hungry for her.
Lick. Nibble. Bite.
She moans, a sound that’s equal parts pleasure and surrender. My moans muffle as I bury my face between her breasts, and the fabric limiting my vision only heightens my senses. She’s a quiet storm—scent, breath, touch—and it’s all overwhelming, intoxicating.
I pull down her bra slowly, my mouth never leaving her skin. Her hard peaks are waiting for me, tight and taut. She gasps as my mouth closes around her nipple, tongue swirling. I suck, my teeth grazing her skin. My other thumb is circling and pinching her other nipple.
She arches into my touch, her nails scraping across my skin.
The burn.
The edge.