Chapter 34
Ruby
Ishouldn’t be here.
I know that.
My heart knows that. My common sense knows that. My therapist, if I had one, would absolutely know that.
But my feet keep walking.
All the way down the executive hallway. Past the closed doors. Past the glass offices that look like spaceships. Right to the very end.
Room 53-A.
The door is half-open.
Inside, dim light spills across polished floors and a long sleek table. The tinted windows make the city outside look unreal, like a blurred midnight dream.
He’s standing at the head of the table.
Waiting for me.
When he lifts his gaze, I stop breathing.
His eyes drag slowly from my heels to my hips to my mouth.
And then to my eyes.
“Close the door,” he says quietly.
My hand trembles as I do.
The click echoes.
I’m locked in with a man who kissed me until the bones in my legs liquefied.
Oh god.
He steps toward me.
One step.
Another.
Deliberate. Measured. Too calm for what happened yesterday.
I swallow hard.
“Jaxon…”
“Yes.” His voice is low, warm, dangerous.
“I don’t know what this is,” I whisper.
He stops right in front of me, close enough that my breath hits his shirt.
“This is you,” he murmurs, “wanting me.”
My cheeks flame. “I don’t..."
He tilts his head. Not angry. Not amused.
Knowing.
“Ruby. Don’t lie to me.”
His hand lifts, fingers brushing my jaw, thumb sweeping once across my cheek.
My knees wobble instantly.
He feels it.
His eyes darken.
“Come here,” he whispers.
I don’t know if my body moves or he draws me in, but the next second, I’m in his space, his heat, his scent, his everything.
He lowers his mouth to mine, it’s soft, slow and testing.
I gasp.
His hand slides behind my neck, pulling me closer. His lips deepen the kiss.
Heat surges through me. I cling to his shirt like it’s the only solid thing in the room. He kisses me harder, then pulls back, breath warm against my face.
“You’re shaking again.”
“Because of you.”
His smile is quiet. Slight. Ruining.
“Good.”
JAXON
She came.
She came even though her fear is written all over her body. She came even though she’s fighting herself.
She came for me. That knowledge settles deep inside me, warm and certain.
When I kiss her, she melts instantly, like she’s been waiting for my mouth on hers since she walked out last night.
I love that.
I love her hands clutching me. I love the desperate way she arches up. I love the soft sound she makes when I cup her jaw.
But I don’t rush.
Not today.
I want her conscious of every second. Every touch. Every choice she makes.
I kiss her again, slower, angling her mouth under mine. Her fingers slide into my hair. She pulls me closer.
Good.
Her body fits against mine like it always belonged there.
She whispers against my lips, “We shouldn’t…”
I kiss her once more.
“Yes,” I murmur. “We should.”
Her breath shudders.
I slide one hand down her spine, slow, soft, until it rests on her lower back, guiding her closer, pressing her gently against me.
She trembles.
“Do you want me to stop?” I ask, voice barely above breath.
She shakes her head.
That’s my permission.
I kiss her jaw, then her neck, tasting the soft skin there. She gasps, arches, clutches my shoulders harder.
“I want to take my time with you,” I whisper. “Not rushed. Not hidden. Not shameful.”
She inhales sharply.
“You deserve more than stolen minutes.”
Her eyes close.
“But right now…” I murmur, lips grazing her throat, “I’m going to take what I’ve been wanting all night.”
Her knees buckle.
I catch her easily.
Her voice is a whisper against my collar: “Please.”
Heat storms through me.
“Come here,” I murmur again, guiding her toward the table.
She goes willingly.
Perfect.
RUBY
He walks me backward, slow but firm, until the edge of the conference table meets the back of my thighs.
I gasp.
He leans in, one hand braced beside my hip, the other curving under my waist.
My breath shudders.
“Look at me,” he whispers.
I do.
His eys are dark, steady, hungry and they hold me in place.
He lifts his free hand and slowly pushes my hair off my shoulder.
His fingers trail down my neck.
“I want to hear you again,” he murmurs.
My pulse pounds.
“Jaxon…”
He kisses me, harder, deeper, his tongue brushing mine with slow, devastating confidence.
My arms go around his neck as if I was made to hold him.
Heat floods through me.
His hands slide down, to my waist, to my hips, urging me up onto the table.
I gasp softly.
He lifts me, easily, like I weigh nothing, and sets me on the edge, his body fitting between my knees.
I draw in a sharp breath.
He kisses me again, slow, hungry, claiming, his hands exploring the curve of my thighs through my skirt.
My legs tighten around him.
He groans softly into my mouth.
“Good girl,” he whispers against my lips.
My whole body lights up.
I grip his shirt.
He tilts my chin up with one hand.
“I’m going to touch you again,” he murmurs.
My breath breaks.
“Please.”
He smiles, soft, wicked, ruinous.
“Then lie back for me.”
I do.
Heart racing.
Hands trembling.
Ready.
And wanting.