Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jax
It was after school on Friday, the day before the big fight, when I pulled the Bentley out of Jovie's driveway.
Leo's laughter still echoed in the car, his excited squeals when Avery had dragged him toward her treehouse in the back.
Estelle had watched them go with that familiar worry between her pretty brows, her fingers twisting in her lap. I'd seen that look before.
“He'll be fine,” I promised, capturing her restless hands. Her skin was silk beneath my thumb as I traced the delicate bones of her wrist. "Jovie's got enough snacks to feed an army, and Avery's been planning this sleepover all week.”
She turned to face me fully, and I felt that familiar punch to the gut at her beauty. Honey eyes that could bring me to my knees, lips that had wrapped around my gun and driven me insane.
"I know," she said, but her voice carried that edge I'd learned meant she was focused on the negative. "But what if Leo gets homesick? What if he doesn't sleep well? What if?—"
"Princess." The word cut through her spiral, and I watched her shoulders relax at the familiar endearment. "Trust me."
She studied my face for a long moment, then nodded. But instead of the shy duck of her head I'd expected, she lifted her chin with that regal tilt that made my cock twitch. "Fine. But if he calls crying, we’re coming home.”
There was my little princess. Demanding, imperious, absolutely fucking perfect when she let that mask slip.
"Deal," I smiled, bringing her knuckles to my lips and pressing a kiss to each one. "Come on. I've got something for you at home."
My beach house appeared down the long coastal road as twilight bled into darkness. The waves sounded, a constant rhythm that matched the blood in my veins whenever she was near.
“It's even more beautiful under moonlight,” she murmured as I helped her from the car, her hand small and warm in mine.
“Wait until you see it from the beach.” I led her inside, through the soaring foyer, and up the grand staircase to the master suite.
The room was bathed in silver light, the wall of windows framing the ocean.
On the bed lay the swimsuit I'd chosen for her. A deep emerald two-piece that would make her eyes shine, and mostly, left little to the imagination.
"I thought we could walk on the beach," I said, watching her face carefully. "My private stretch. Just us."
She raised an eyebrow, her mouth quirking in that way that always made me want to bite her lip. “This thing is a swimsuit?”
Fuck, she was perfect when she got like this. She only seemed to do it with me, and I could die happy.
“Let’s call it ‘exactly what I want to see you in, ’” I smirked, stepping closer until I could smell her citrus scent. "Problem, princess?"
She tilted her head, studying me with those honey eyes that saw too much. "No problem. Now turn around while I change, and don’t peek. ”
I laughed, the sound deep, mixed with pure fucking lust. "I've seen every inch of you. Multiple times."
"Turn. Around." Each word was crisp, commanding, and fuck if it didn't make me harder than steel.
I obeyed, because when Estelle used that princess tone, I'd do anything she asked.
I stripped quickly, pulling on black trunks that hung low on my hips, and waited.
The sound of fabric rustling behind me was torture, my imagination running wild with what she looked like sliding into that scrap of fabric.
"Okay," she called finally, voice breathless.
I turned, and every coherent thought dissolved.
The bikini fit like it had been painted on her body.
Tiny emerald triangles hugging her small breasts, the silver chains, matching her necklace, catching moonlight as they traced the gentle flare of her hips.
She looked like a goddess, like sin incarnate, like everything I'd ever wanted wrapped in honey and attitude.
But it was the way she stood that nearly brought me to my knees. She didn’t cross her arms—she let me admire every perfect inch of her.
“You’re staring,” she muttered, cheeks flushing slightly. “Do I meet your standards?” She was trying to sound coy, but being so scantily clad in front of me was doing her in.
I closed the distance between us in one stride, hands settling on her waist, thumbs tracing the delicate silver chains. "You exceed them," I breathed, voice hoarse with need. "You're perfect."
She smiled, slow and sweet. She didn’t deny it.
“Come with me,” I murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Let me show you my paradise.”
The private staircase wound down from my deck to the sand below, carved into the cliff face like something from a movie.
Estelle's hand was warm in mine as we descended, but she didn't cling or hesitate. She moved with the grace of someone who belonged in my world, who could match me step for step.
The beach was perfect—white sand still warm from the day's sun, waves lapping gently at the shore.
I had my staff set up a blanket earlier, along with champagne chilling in a bucket, but all of that faded when I saw Estelle at the water's edge.
She waded in without hesitation, the emerald fabric clinging to her skin as the waves swirled around her calves. When she glanced back at me, her smile was pure mischief.
“You're staring again,” she called out, tucking her hair back.
“Can’t help it,” I admitted, closing the distance between us. The water was cool against my skin, but she was warm when I wrapped my arms around her waist, pulling her back against my chest. "You're all I see."
And it was true, all I’d seen meeting her was her; she’d consumed my entire being.
She shivered, her head tilting to give me better access. “Smooth talker,” she breathed, but her hips pressed back against me, betraying her desire. “But I like having your attention.”
I nipped at her earlobe, hands sliding up to cup her breasts through the thin fabric. "You have more than my attention, princess. You have my obsession."
She arched into my touch, a soft moan escaping her lips. But when I tried to turn her in my arms and onto the shore, she resisted, pressing back against me instead.
"Not yet," she said, voice breathless but firm. "I want to feel you first."
This was my princess, taking what she wanted, demanding what she needed.
I claimed her mouth, the kiss desperate and claiming. She met me stroke for stroke, her tongue dancing with mine, her teeth catching my lower lip, making me groan. When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard .
Her hands moved with purpose, palms sliding down my chest to trace the defined ridges of my abs. Then her fingers moved back up to my nipples, and I sucked in a sharp breath, the sensation electric against my skin.
“Pretty,” she hummed, voice carrying that satisfied edge that made my cock throb. Her thumbs circled the hardened peaks, and I couldn't suppress the groan that tore from my throat.
"Fuck, Estelle?—"
The waves chose that moment to surge higher, the cold water rushing around our legs and throwing us off balance.
I wrapped my arms around her as we tumbled backward onto the wet sand, twisting so she landed on top of me instead of beneath.
No way was I letting sand get in her hair or scrape her perfect skin.
She gasped at the sudden movement, her body pressed flush against mine. I could feel every curve, every smooth line of her through the thin fabric of our swimwear. My hands automatically went to her waist, steadying her, claiming her.
"Are you okay?" she asked, concern flickering in her honey eyes.
"Perfect," I answered, voice rough. "You're perfect."
The sand was cool and damp beneath my back, grains clinging to my skin as another wave lapped at our legs. But all I could focus on was the way she straddled me, her thighs bracketing my hips, the emerald bikini clinging to her like sin itself.
She seemed to realize our position at the same time I did, her cheeks flushing pink in the moonlight. But instead of pulling away, she stayed where she was, her hands braced on my chest for balance.
"Jax," she whispered, my name a prayer on her lips.
I could feel her heat through the thin fabric, could smell the salt air mixed with her.
We were completely exposed on the beach, under the stars, with nothing but the ocean and sky as witnesses. This was my private stretch of paradise, miles from the nearest neighbor.
I could fuck her however I wanted, wherever I wanted .
"Kiss me," I commanded softly, my hands sliding up her back to tangle in her hair.
She obeyed without hesitation, leaning down to capture my mouth in a kiss that was all sweetness and growing desire. I could taste the salt air on her lips, could feel the way she trembled against me.
When she pulled back, her eyes were dark with want.
"I want to keep touching you," she whispered, voice shy but determined. "Like you touch me."
The innocence in her voice, combined with the heat in her eyes, was going to kill me. "Touch me however you want, princess. I'm yours."
Her hands moved over my chest with growing confidence, mapping every carved muscle, every inch of golden skin she could reach.
When she found my nipples again, I couldn't hold back the sharp intake of breath. The sensation was sharp, made even more intense by the cool ocean breeze.
"You like that," she observed, voice filled with wonder and a hint of that princess satisfaction I was learning to crave.
"I like everything you do to me," I groaned, my hands gripping her hips as she unconsciously ground against my aching cock.
She leaned down, her mouth replacing her fingers, and I nearly came right there. Her tongue swirled around the sensitive peak before her teeth grazed it lightly, and I bucked beneath her with a strangled moan.
The sensation was different and overwhelming—wet heat and gentle suction that made my hips jerk involuntarily.
She experimented with different pressures, different movements of her tongue, learning what made me gasp, what made me moan.