Chapter 15
Fifteen
LAN
As we kissed, that strange warmth in my chest intensified, pulsing in time with my racing heartbeat.
It felt almost as if something golden and bright was flowing between us, connecting us in ways I couldn’t understand but my body somehow recognized.
The sensation reminded me of that first night in my room—the ember-warmth that had lingered long after Jaxson left—but stronger now, more insistent, as if whatever had been awakened then was growing, evolving with each touch we shared.
He angled his head, changing the depth of the kiss, and suddenly his tongue was reaching places I didn’t know could be touched—grazing the roof of my mouth, exploring every corner, claiming every inch as his territory.
The sheer intimacy of it made me dizzy. This was Jaxson tasting me, learning me from the inside out, and I was letting him, welcoming him, wanting more.
It was like he’d found the instruction manual to my pleasure and was highlighting all the important passages.
Then he did something that short-circuited my brain entirely—he sucked on my tongue, drawing it into his mouth with a gentle pressure that made my hips buck involuntarily.
The suction created a direct line of sensation from my mouth to my cock, which hardened so fast it made me lightheaded.
My mind flashed to an image of Jaxson between my legs, that same mouth, that same suction, and I moaned into his mouth, unable to contain the sound.
If my body were an instrument, he’d just found the perfect note, unlocking a sound I didn’t know I could make. Apparently, all it takes is Jaxson’s tongue to turn me into some kind of vocal performer. The embarrassing part was how easy it was for him, how quickly I surrendered.
The vibrations of my moan seemed to trigger something in him.
His hands tightened their grip on my face, tilting my head to give him better access as he deepened the kiss to a level I didn’t know existed.
This wasn’t just kissing anymore—this was devouring.
He was consuming me, eating me alive, and I was offering myself up willingly, eagerly, like the world’s most enthusiastic sacrifice.
As our kiss intensified, that strange warmth between us grew stronger, more insistent.
Small flickers of what almost felt like golden light seemed to dance behind my closed eyelids, though I knew that had to be my imagination.
The connection between us was becoming almost tangible, a living thing that pulsed and flowed with each shared breath, each slide of his tongue against mine, each racing beat of our hearts.
His body pressed harder against mine, every line of his muscled frame aligning perfectly with my smaller one.
I could feel him everywhere—the solid wall of his chest against mine, the hard planes of his stomach, the unmistakable ridge of his cock pressing against my thigh.
The evidence of his desire made me bolder, more desperate.
I arched up, seeking more contact, more friction, more of everything he was willing to give.
Oxygen became a distant concern as he kissed me harder, deeper, his tongue thrusting into my mouth in a rhythm that mimicked something far more intimate.
I couldn’t breathe, didn’t want to breathe if it meant breaking this connection.
My hands clutched at his shoulders, his back, his hair—anywhere I could reach, needing to anchor myself in this storm of sensation.
If this was how I died—oxygen-deprived from the world’s most intense kiss—at least I’d go out happy.
When he finally pulled back, I was gasping, my chest heaving as if I’d just run a marathon.
Or more accurately, as if I’d actually participated in one of Colt’s dawn workouts instead of pretending to be asleep when he knocked on my door.
My lips felt swollen, sensitive, buzzing with the ghost of his pressure.
I stared up at him, dazed and wanting, unable to form coherent thoughts beyond more and please and again.
“Good,” he breathed, his voice rough with desire, his eyes tracking the movement as I licked my lips, chasing his taste. “Now, when I deepen the kiss again, open for me. Let your tongue meet mine… yes, just like that.”
I followed his instructions eagerly this time, my heart thundering against my ribs as his tongue teased mine again.
Every gentle swipe, every careful stroke sent sparks of pleasure through my body, lighting me up from the inside out.
He tasted like mint and desire and something uniquely Jaxson—something that felt familiar, even though this was my first kiss.
Like my body remembered him from somewhere, somewhen.
“Turn your head more,” he murmured, demonstrating with a slight shift that aligned our mouths more perfectly. “See how it fits better?” Then he was kissing me again, deeper this time, showing me exactly how a kiss could set your whole body on fire, how it could make you forget your own name.
My hands found their way into his hair, the strands silky between my fingers as I pulled him closer, desperate for more.
Who knew I’d be so greedy? One kiss and I’m already demanding the whole buffet.
I tried to memorize every sensation—the way his tongue danced with mine, how his teeth gently caught my lower lip, the soft sounds of pleasure he made when I did something right.
The weight of him above me, grounding me when I felt like I might float away on a tide of sensation.
Kissing Jaxson was like discovering a language my body had always known but my mind had forgotten.
Each movement felt natural, instinctive, as if we’d done this a thousand times before in a thousand different lives.
The thought should have scared me—it made no sense, no logical sense at all—but logic had abandoned me the moment his lips touched mine, packing its bags and leaving a note that said “You’re on your own with this one, kid. ”
I was drowning in sensation, in pleasure, in the sheer rightness of being in his arms. Each sweep of his tongue against mine sent shivers down my spine, each graze of his teeth against my lower lip made my toes curl.
I was kissing Jaxson—kissing Jaxson—and it was better than anything I’d ever imagined.
It was sinful and perfect and I never wanted it to end.
If this was a sin, then sign me up for eternal damnation, because I’d happily burn if it meant feeling like this.
“Fast learner,” he praised against my lips, the words vibrating against my mouth in a way that made me shiver. His hand slid down my side, tracing the curve of my waist before settling on my hip, his thumb rubbing circles against the bone. “Want to learn something else?”
I nodded frantically, too far gone to care about dignity or pride or the fact that this was my stepbrother. All that mattered was this moment, this feeling, this man. “Please, Jaxson. Teach me more.”
His smile was wolfish, predatory in a way that should have frightened me but only made the heat in my belly burn hotter. “Lesson two,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that register that made my toes curl, “is about touch.”
His hand slipped beneath the oversized shirt—his shirt—pushing it up to expose my stomach, my chest. The cool air against my heated skin made me gasp, but it was nothing compared to the sound I made when his palm flattened against my sternum, directly over my hammering heart.
As he touched me, I noticed something strange—a sweet scent filling the air between us. Honey and something floral, like cherry blossoms, with a subtle hint of lilies. It reminded me of spring, of warmth, of home.
Wait, what? I’d noticed this scent the last time too, when Jaxson had touched me in my room.
It hadn’t been this strong then, not this pervasive, but it was definitely the same.
Great, now I’m having olfactory hallucinations.
Where was it coming from? Was it me? Was it him?
Was it something that happened when we touched?
“Feel that?” he asked, pressing lightly against my chest. “Your heart’s racing. Mine too.” He guided my hand to his chest, letting me feel the powerful rhythm beneath his skin.
My fingers splayed across his chest, feeling the steady thud of his heart beneath my palm.
It was racing just as fast as mine, strong and vital and alive.
Something about that connection—heart to heart—deepened that strange bond between us, making it hum with energy.
The sweet scent seemed to intensify with our connection, growing stronger with each shared heartbeat.
“Now for the practical application,” he continued, his teacher voice undermined by the roughness of his tone, the dilation of his pupils.
His hand slid lower, wrapping around my cock again, the contact more intense now that I could see his face, could watch the way his eyes darkened as he touched me.
I gasped into his mouth at the contact, my hips jerking involuntarily, seeking more.
“Sensitive,” he observed, his voice rough with an edge that made heat pool in my stomach.
Thank you, Captain Obvious. What gave it away—the gasping or the involuntary hip thrust?
His strokes were sure and steady, perfectly paced to drive me crazy, to build the pleasure slowly but inexorably. “Keep kissing me, Lan. Don’t stop.”
His kiss turned hungry, desperate, like a man who’d just discovered kissing was about to be outlawed and he needed to get his fill while he could.
I groaned into his mouth, overwhelmed by the dual sensations of his hand on me and his tongue exploring my mouth.
When his tongue teased at the seam of my lips again, I opened for him.