Chapter Twelve #3
With a firm grip under her thighs, he lifted her higher—perching her up against the smooth tile wall so her breasts rose clear above the waterline, droplets sliding down the curves in slow, glittering trails. The night air hit her wet skin, making her nipples pebble into tight, aching points.
He lowered his head.
His mouth closed over one breast—lips soft at first, then sucking gently around the peak.
His tongue flicked slow circles over the sensitive bud while the water lapped only at her ribs below.
She arched, a soft whimper escaping as the contrast burned: cool air on her chest, hot pull of his mouth, the steady hold of his hands keeping her lifted and exposed.
He switched to the other breast—sucking harder now, teeth grazing lightly to make her gasp. One hand stayed locked under her thigh, supporting her weight; the other cupped the breast he wasn’t kissing, thumb rolling the nipple in time with his tongue.
Her fingers tightened in his wet hair. Her hips rolled helplessly against him, chasing friction. Every slow suck sent heat arrowing between her legs, thighs trembling around his waist.
“Jax…” Breathless, almost a plea.
He hummed against her skin—the vibration rolling through her—and sucked harder, tongue flicking quick then dragging slow. He moved between her breasts until both were flushed and swollen, exquisitely sensitive to every brush of air or water droplet.
She was shaking now—small tremors, short pants—pleasure coiling tight.
Then—footsteps.
Heavy, deliberate, coming from the terrace doors.
They froze.
Jax’s mouth lifted from her breast. His head snapped toward the sound.
A server—young, tray balanced in one hand, bottle of champagne in the other—stepped out onto the terrace. He was looking down at his phone, earbud in one ear, clearly not expecting anyone still up here.
He looked up.
Eyes widened.
The tray wobbled.
“Uh—sorry—shit—” He spun on his heel so fast he nearly dropped the bottle, face flaming red even in the dim light. “I’ll—uh—come back later!”
He bolted back through the doors, the glass panel swinging shut behind him with a muffled thud.
Silence.
Then Aria let out a shaky, breathless laugh against Jax’s shoulder.
He exhaled roughly, forehead dropping to hers. “Jesus.”
Her heart was hammering—adrenaline spiking through the lust, making everything sharper, hotter.
She rocked her hips against him once—deliberate, needy—feeling the thick length of him twitch in response.
“Keep going,” she whispered.
His eyes darkened further.
She didn’t ask twice.
He reached one arm out—still holding her securely with the other—and snagged his discarded shorts from the deck. Fumbled in the pocket. Foil packet crinkled between his fingers.
He tore it open with his teeth. Rolled it on one-handed, never breaking eye contact.
Then he was back—lifting her higher, lining himself up.
He pushed in slowly.
Inch by careful inch.
The stretch was exquisite—thick, burning just enough to make her gasp. She clung to his shoulders, nails biting skin, head falling back against the tile as he filled her completely, water swirling around them with every tiny shift.
They both stilled for a heartbeat—foreheads pressed together, breathing ragged.
Then he moved.
Long, rolling thrusts at first—pulling almost all the way out, sliding back in deep and deliberate. Each one dragged against every sensitive place inside her, building heat in slow, relentless waves. Water sloshed softly around them with every stroke, rippling outward in silver rings.
But now every sound felt amplified: the wet slap of skin on skin, her soft gasps, his low groans. The risk of someone else walking through that door again. The echo of that embarrassed retreat still hanging in the air.
It made everything more intense.
She rocked with him harder—small circles of her hips, meeting every thrust. Her legs tightened around his waist. His mouth returned to her neck—kissing, sucking, teeth grazing the pulse point until she whimpered.
The pace built faster now.
Deeper. Harder. Her back scraped lightly against the tile with each powerful drive. His hands gripped her thighs hard enough to bruise. She scratched down his back—red lines she knew would show tomorrow.
The near-miss pulsed through her like a second heartbeat—heightening every sensation, making her skin feel too tight, her nerves too live.
“Jax—”
He angled his hips just right—hitting that spot inside her over and over.
The coil inside her snapped—harder, faster, more violently than before.
She came with a choked cry—back arching off the tile, walls clenching rhythmically around him in long, rolling waves.
The orgasm tore through her, sharper and deeper than anything she’d ever felt, leaving her shaking uncontrollably, vision whiting out at the edges, thighs locked so tight around him she thought she might never let go.
He rocked her through it—slowing only long enough to draw every last tremor from her body—then picked up again, chasing his own release.
A few more deep, grinding thrusts—his rhythm faltering now, breath harsh and ragged against her ear.
“Fuck, Aria—gonna come—”
He buried himself deep one last time. A low, guttural groan tore from his throat as he pulsed inside her, hips locked tight against hers, face pressed to the crook of her neck.
They stayed like that—panting, trembling, water lapping gently around them.
He lifted his head slowly. Smiled—lazy, satisfied, a little smug.
“Well,” he murmured, brushing wet hair from her cheek, “I guess I have my answer. We’re doing the fake-dating-with-benefits thing.”
She exhaled shakily, still trembling in aftershocks. “Yeah. I guess we are.”
He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.
“Which means you’re coming to meet Nan.”
She blinked, dazed. “What?”
“I’m spending Christmas in Brisbane with my Nan. If we want this to look real—really real—then you’re coming with me.”
She stared at him. Heart pounding for reasons she refused to name.
“Okay,” she whispered.
He kissed her again—soft this time, almost tender.
And for the first time in a while, the guilt didn’t rush in to drown her.
It just… waited.
Somewhere further down the road.