Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
LAN
My lips parted on a gasp—partly from surprise, partly from the sharp tug on my hair—and Jaxson took immediate advantage like the opportunistic predator he apparently was beneath all that responsible big brother camouflage.
His tongue swept inside my mouth, hot and insistent, not asking permission but claiming territory that I was embarrassingly eager to surrender.
The first slick slide of his tongue against mine sent an electric current down my spine that nearly short-circuited my central nervous system.
My knees actually buckled, which would have been mortifying if I’d had any brain cells left to process embarrassment.
Jaxson’s arm locked around my waist, hauling me up against him with an ease that reminded me of our size difference in the most inconvenient way possible.
That strange honey-sweet scent that always seemed to intensify when we touched exploded in the air around us, like someone had detonated a floral bomb in our kitchen.
The golden warmth in my chest flared hotter, brighter, spreading through my veins until I half expected to look down and find myself glowing like some bizarre human nightlight.
Jaxson broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to stare at me with an expression I couldn’t quite decipher. His eyes had darkened to the point where only a thin ring of amber-gold remained around pupils blown wide with what looked suspiciously like hunger.
“Do you smell that?” he murmured, his nostrils flaring slightly as he drew in a deep breath. “Like honey and cherry blossoms.”
Before I could formulate a response that wasn’t just incoherent babbling, his mouth was on mine again, more demanding this time.
His teeth caught my lower lip, biting down just hard enough to send a jolt of something between pain and pleasure racing through me, then immediately soothing the sting with a slow sweep of his tongue.
Bite, then soothe. Pain, then pleasure. Had he been reading Bree’s romance collection or did this come standard with the Jaxson Sinclair Kissing Experience?
His hand moved from my hair to the nape of my neck, his thumb pressing against the spot where my pulse hammered wildly like a trapped bird.
His other hand splayed across my lower back, each finger a point of burning contact through the thin fabric of his dress shirt.
He held me like I might try to escape, which was laughable considering my legs had all the structural integrity of overcooked ramen noodles.
I made a sound—something embarrassingly needy that I would deny making until my dying day—as his tongue licked deeper into my mouth, sweeping against my own in a rhythm that my hormone-soaked brain immediately translated into other, much less vertical activities.
He tasted like coffee and mint and something darker, richer, that was uniquely Jaxson.
If they could bottle this taste, they’d make billions and probably cause traffic accidents as people became too distracted to drive.
When he changed the angle of the kiss, tilting my head farther back until I was practically bending like a yoga instructor showing off, I felt a new wave of that golden warmth surge between us.
It pulsed from my chest into his, connecting us with invisible threads of sensation that seemed to vibrate with recognition.
Like my body knew his, had always known his, which was completely insane and definitely the sort of thing I’d mock mercilessly if someone else said it out loud.
His hand moved from my neck to cup my jaw, his thumb stroking my cheekbone with a gentleness that contrasted sharply with the way his mouth was practically devouring mine. The juxtaposition—tender touch, devouring kiss—made my head spin like I’d chugged Wei’s expensive whiskey on an empty stomach.
When Jaxson finally broke the kiss again, I was embarrassingly close to whimpering at the loss. His lips trailed along my jaw to that sensitive spot just below my ear, and when his teeth scraped against my earlobe, my whole body jerked against his like I’d been electrocuted.
Great, now he knows another button to push. At this rate he’ll have a complete user manual for “How to Reduce Lan to a Quivering Mess” by dinnertime.
“Look at you,” he breathed against my skin, his voice rougher than I’d ever heard it, like gravel wrapped in velvet. “So responsive. So perfect.”
His teeth scraped down the column of my throat, the edge of pain drawing a gasp from me as my hand flew up to grip his biceps. I could feel the hard muscle beneath the expensive fabric of his suit, the strength he was holding in check as he systematically dismantled every defense I’d ever built.
When he reached the junction of my neck and shoulder—the place where his shirt had slipped down to expose my skin—he paused, his breath hot against my pulse point.
“Mine,” he whispered, so quietly I almost thought I’d imagined it, before his mouth latched on to my skin, sucking hard enough that I knew it would leave a mark.
The sensation of his mouth on my neck, marking me where anyone could see, should have horrified me.
Wei would notice immediately, of course.
The smug bastard notices everything. But instead of horror, all I felt was a wave of heat that pooled low in my belly, turning my bones to liquid and my brain to static.
Jaxson’s eyes dropped lower, his expression changing from hunger to something like amusement as he took in the visible evidence of just how much his kisses had affected me.
“Looks like our little game of house is getting more… interesting,” he murmured, his voice dropping to that dangerous register that seemed specifically designed to turn my internal organs to jelly.
My face went from merely hot to surface-of-the-sun levels of burning. “I’m twenty-one,” I managed, my voice embarrassingly breathless. “Being touched pretty much anywhere guarantees that reaction. It’s basic biology. I’d probably get hard if the wind blew the right way.”
Great. Now I’m comparing Jaxson’s kisses to the wind. Smooth, Lan. Real smooth.
His smile was predatory in a way that should have scared me but instead sent another wave of heat through my already overheated body. “Is that so? Just biology?” His thumb traced my lower lip, which felt swollen and sensitive from his kisses. “Nothing to do with me specifically, then?”
“Pure coincidence,” I assured him with all the conviction of Nico claiming he hadn’t been the one to use up all the hot water. “You just happened to be the closest warm body. Don’t let it go to your head.”
His laugh was low and dark, promising trouble of the very best kind. “Well, since I’m the convenient warm body at hand, would you like me to take care of it? Like before?”
The memory of that night—Jaxson’s hand on me, the pleasure that had ripped through me with devastating intensity—made me swallow hard, my mouth suddenly dry.
Say no. This is already crossing too many lines. This is your stepbrother, your family, the guy who helped you with your English homework. Say no.
“Yes,” I whispered, the word escaping before I could stop it, drawn from some deep, honest place that cared more about his touch than any concept of propriety. “I mean—that is—if you want to? But you don’t have to. Obviously. It’s not your responsibility to deal with my… situation.”
Christ, I sound like I’m negotiating a business deal instead of begging my stepbrother to touch me again. What’s next, a PowerPoint presentation on the benefits of orgasms?
Jaxson’s eyes darkened further, if that was even possible. “I don’t think the kitchen is the right place for what I have in mind,” he continued, his voice dropping lower, rougher. “My room.”
I nodded, not trusting my voice, as he took my hand and led me down the hallway to his bedroom.
The evidence of my earlier intrusion was still visible—the rumpled bedding where I’d napped, the imprint of my head on his pillow.
If he noticed, he didn’t comment. His focus was entirely on me, those amber-gold eyes tracking my every movement like I might disappear if he looked away for even a moment.
The bedroom door clicked shut behind us with a finality that sent both terror and anticipation racing through me.
This was really happening. We were really doing this.
Crossing lines that could never be uncrossed, venturing into territory from which there might be no return.
Great job with your self-control, Lan. You lasted approximately three seconds before following your stepbrother to his bedroom like a desperate puppy.
Jaxson’s hands went to his tie, loosening it before pulling it free and draping it over the back of his desk chair.
His suit jacket followed, revealing the crisp white shirt beneath that somehow made him look even more devastating.
There should be a warning label on that shirt.
Caution: May cause spontaneous combustion in susceptible stepbrothers.
When he began rolling up his sleeves, exposing the tanned skin of his forearms, I nearly swallowed my tongue.
There was something unbearably intimate about watching him undress, even partially.
His movements were deliberate, methodical, each fold of fabric precise and neat.
Of course. Even when he’s about to ruin his stepbrother’s virtue, he’s still perfectly organized about it.
He probably has a special filing system for his sexual conquests.
“You’re staring,” he observed, a hint of amusement coloring his tone as he finished with his sleeves and moved to the small leather love seat tucked into the corner of his room.
“You’re worth staring at,” I replied without thinking, immediately wanting to smack myself.
Filter, Lan! Use your brain-to-mouth filter!
“I mean—that is—watching you roll up your sleeves shouldn’t be that attractive, but somehow you make it look like a scene from a magazine spread, and I should really stop talking now. ”