Something to Talk About Read online

  Jax chuckled and laid his head on her breast, flicking his tongue over her tight nipple. “We’ll see how perfect I am when you see my toes. They’re a total turnoff. In fact, I think we should just leave my shoes on while we do this so you don’t run out of here screaming.”

  He muttered those words before he cupped her breasts, bringing them together to circle her nipples with his tongue. She gasped and laughed at the same time.

  Had she and Clifton ever laughed during sex?

  But this time she really did forget about her rolls and her cellulite and comparing her sparse sexual experiences to this one because Jax was kissing her everywhere, along her arms, across her shoulders, at her rib cage, creating delicious tendrils of heat along her skin.

  His mouth was hot on her flesh, his teeth nipping at her skin before soothing it with his tongue. When he circled her belly button, her stomach muscles tightened and her head fell forward.

  Jax splayed his hand over her midsection; his ruddy flesh against her pale, slightly marred skin made for another sharp inhale from her.

  Exquisite was the word that came to mind, an exquisite snapshot of sensuality, of possessive intent that took her breath away.

  Just when she thought there was no breath left in her to steal, Jax hooked his thumbs under the straps that held her thong together and dragged them over her hips to her ankles. He held her leg up, kissing her calf with a smile when he pulled the thong over her heel and twirled it on his finger before letting it zing across the room. “These are really hot on you. You’ve got terrific legs, by the way, but they’re probably not practical in Forest Hawthorne, huh?”

  Em leaned back on her elbows and giggled again, lost in his compliments and the way his hot breath gave her chills. “Nearly broke a leg.”

  Jax’s mouth skimmed along the muscles of her calf, working his way up until he was at her inner thigh. “And we don’t want you to have to explain that to everyone in town, do we?” His eyes rose to meet hers, playful and carefree.

  “No,” she murmured abstractly before realizing where Jax was going with that luscious mouth. “I mean, no!” Em attempted to clamp her thighs shut. Wasn’t this too intimate for their first time? Too personal?

  Jax’s hands went to her thighs, massaging the tops of them to relax her, and leaned back on his heels. His eyes were sweet—filled with concern. “Am I making you uncomfortable, Em?”

  Her heart began to pound out a hard beat. Uncomfortable wasn’t the word. He was doing the most inexplicable, unbelievable things to her body—every second of it was pure sensory overload. And she’d waxed for this. Really waxed for the first time in almost a year, but now the act itself seemed so personal, so much deeper than she remembered it that she was feeling like...

  Like what?

  It hit her like a ton of bricks. She felt like she was dirty for enjoying it. Like this particular part of making love was forbidden unless it was shared by two committed people. Clifton had once said that. Sex was sex, but blow jobs were for the girl you were going to marry.

  Somehow, his view of things had become hers. But what did he know about who she really was? What did he know about what she felt? Which opinions were hers, and which were the ones either drilled into her by her mother, or formed during a marriage to a man who didn’t trust her enough to reveal a life-altering experience?

  Instantly, she relaxed, breathing deeply. It was time to form her own opinion on the matter, so she called up the Em who wouldn’t bat an eyelash at this deliciousness and shook her head with a smile. “I’m just a little ticklish.”

  Jax mumbled something before his lips were back on her thigh, traveling upward until she hissed a sigh of anticipation. He hovered there for a moment, her legs spread wide. She knew he was looking at her—seeing the most intimate part of her. She heard his breathing pick up, felt the rise and fall of his chest against her inner thigh, and Em let him look.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said, sending a thrill of white-hot pleasure through her.

  Without fear of recrimination, without an ounce of embarrassment, she stretched her arms upward, gripping the flannel sheet in preparation.

  Jax moaned low before parting her, slipping his fingers between her aching, swollen folds and letting his thumb circle her clit.

  Her hips responded, jutting upward at the remembered feel of his fingers, the sweet ache he created. And then Jax’s lips were on her, trailing light kisses across her exposed flesh, swirling his tongue over her clit until there was no stopping the greedy way she lifted her hips to beg for more.

  She was dizzy with the press of his tongue, boneless when he slipped two fingers inside her and stroked, became agonizingly hot with the sound of his mouth on her lodged in her ears.

  Em’s fingers tangled in his hair, clutching, clinging to anything that would keep her anchored. Her entire focus became about Jax’s mouth on her, licking, sucking until a fierce wave of heat engulfed her.

  Her toes curled in her shoes, her nipples tightening unbearably when the point of no return hit her. Jax’s pursuit was unmerciful, stroking, licking, cupping her ass so her hips lifted off the bed and she was flush to the hot sting of his mouth.

  For a brief second, it became an unbearable pleasure, so intense, so defined, Em’s head thrashed against the pillow. She bit her tongue to keep all of Plum Orchard from hearing her scream an orgasm like she’d never had before. But there was no stopping the explosion of colors flashing behind her eyes or the sharply sweet release of pressure when she came.

  As she melted into the bed, her chest hurt from panting; her lungs felt like they’d explode as she gasped, struggling for air.

  Jax continued to run his hands over her skin, soothing, easing, kissing his way up her torso until he was beside her, forcing her to open her eyes and look at him when he tilted her chin. His eyes questioned her.

  As the tension in her body left, she smiled at him, smiled at the way he was waiting to be sure she was okay with the next step. That was what he was doing. Feeling her out, looking out for her. She knew it sure as she knew that was the best orgasm of her life. She’d never felt so ravished, yet at the same time, so free, so liberated.

  Rolling to her side, she let her fingers trail down his magnificent chest, discovering the rigid planes of his abs, dipping into the waistline of his jeans, touching the crisp hair that led from his belly button to his cock.

  Jax cupped her cheek. “You’re sure you’re okay?”

  Em leaned upward and kissed his hard jaw, now littered with rough stubble, and buried her nose against it. “I’m beyond okay, Mr. Hawthorne. Wow. For my first-time draft pick, I’d call that a win.”

  His mouth found her earlobe with another chuckle, nibbling it, running his fingertips along her ribs, fluttering over her hungry nipples while she busied herself with the button on his jeans.

  Impatient fingers fumbled then scored by popping open the button and lowering Jax’s zipper in one swift motion.

  Em flattened her palm against his lower abdomen, loving the feel of his overheated skin, the ridge where his sharp hip bone gave way to the path leading to his cock. She flared her fingers, running them through the crisp hair from his belly button to his pelvis until she felt the tip of him jerk against her, and it made her smile against his lips.

  Jax’s reaction to the brush of her fingers reignited her curiosity, making her boldly grasp him and savor his hiss of pleasure. Her eyes fluttered open, catching a glimpse of his face in the candlelight, strong-jawed held tight in a clench of his teeth. His eyes were closed, his head falling back on his shoulders to reveal the tendons in his neck, rigid and stiff.

  God. He was absolutely the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, had ever even considered seeing up close like this, and she was going to wring dry every last hot moment spent with him.

  His cock pulsed beneath her grasp
, giving her the courage to begin a long, slow stroke with one hand while she pushed his jeans from his hips with the other.

  Jax ground against her fingers. Wrapping his hand around her wrist, he did a sort of husky growl in her ear. “Condoms. That’s gotta happen soon. Swear it won’t always be like this, but it’s been a long time.”

  Pulling away, he rose, kicking his shoes off and shoving his jeans down over his thick thighs. Thighs sprinkled with dark hair and carved with muscle. Thighs she had a crazy urge to grip, run her lips across the bunched cords. For a man who spent a great deal of his time behind a computer, developing things she still wasn’t quite sure she understood, he definitely didn’t suffer a paunch or any of the things the girls were always complaining about.

  Those thighs that led to lean calves were what carried Jax across the room to the box of condoms, while she openly admired his muscled butt and wide back. She’d missed it before, but he had a tattoo she couldn’t read on his left pec.

  When Jax turned around, condom in hand and an amused gleam in his eye, her eyes strayed to his erection. As perfect as the rest of him and with a slight hook to the right.

  And then, this enormous, beautiful man was sliding the condom on, parting her legs, pressing the tip of himself at her entrance, making her wrap her arms around his neck and delight in the brush of his dark hair rubbing against her shoulders.

  Jax brushed her hair from her eyes. “You still good?”

  Each time Jax made his concern for her known, when he was offering her the time to regroup if she needed it, it did something to her heart. Something that tingled—a twinge—a warmth—a nudge of a feeling she had to blatantly ignore. His tenderness wasn’t something she’d expected, and it was going to break her if she read too much into it.

  Jax was a considerate lover. Just because they were only in this for the sex didn’t mean they couldn’t care about how the other person felt.

  Still, when she nodded her consent and arched her back, and Jax drove upward inside her, rigid and hot, her throat closed up. Grew so tight from this odd emotion, she had to clench her eyes shut.

  But then the world tipped sideways when Jax’s hands burrowed under her, cupping her butt, driving deeper into her. Stroke after stroke he drew her closer, filling her with everything Jax, stretching her until she dug her fingernails into thick shoulders.

  There was no tease to his thrusts, no flirtation with his intent, but she was right there with him, pushing harder, gulping for the same air he gasped at to fill his lungs. Her hips ground upward, seeking that delicious friction the scrape of her clit against his hair created, as she dug her heels into the edge of the bed to reach higher.

  Their scents lingered in her nose, the slide of their sweat-slick bodies and the suction it created in her ears. Em’s muscles contracted around him, tightening, drawing him deeper inside her until it all became an overload of everything.

  Everything incredible. Everything delicious. Everything she’d always read, heard, daydreamed about, but never dared to imagine could ever happen to her.

  Jax was so much—so much pleasure—so much perfect—that when she came, her orgasm was one part wild release, and a million other parts stingingly, achingly sweet. Em slammed her eyes shut, stupidly hoping it would chase away this startling sense of connection—this sense of being right where she belonged.

  Jax stiffened above her, his back muscles tightening under her palms as he settled deeper into her, taking his last long draw before he cupped her jaw and ran his thumb over her bottom lip and reared up.

  And then he came, too. As strong and as powerful as the rest of him. A release of tension-filled energy before he sagged against her, breathing harsh rasps of breath.

  As if it were possible, in that second, while he was above her, rigid and firm, when his chest was ripped with tight muscle, and his jaw was clenched, he was even more amazing.

  Did anyone look that good when they came? But watching him from hooded eyes hadn’t just turned her on, it made her heart curl, twist, beat harder as if it were begging for attention.

  No.

  These wispy-warm tendrils of satisfaction would not dig themselves any deeper than into a layer of her flesh. Her heart was sacred—off-limits—temporarily out to lunch.

  Reason would return, and she’d look back on tonight and realize what she was feeling right now was just the afterglow of love well made. It left you vulnerable, and open to a world of hurt. It was why so many mistook love for incredible sex.

  Love took time, and sometimes, even when it had time invested, it wasn’t real love after all. That wouldn’t fool her again.

  She definitely wouldn’t be fooled by this “connection” business.

  They’d been connected all right. By limbs, and sweat, and mouths and tongues.

  And it had been unbelievable.

  The sex. Just the sex.

  No overthinking it, Emmaline Amos.

  Twelve

  “Ms. Amos?”

  Em looked up from the mound of paperwork that had been waiting for her on her desk when she stumbled into Call Girls, bleary-eyed and yawning. She and Jax had well overextended themselves last night.

  After all that business makin’, they’d stayed up far too late going through her idea book, choosing colors for the multiple rooms in his aunt’s old farmhouse, looking on Jax’s laptop at appliances, fixtures, lamps, throw rugs, outlet covers, bedding—you name it, they’d tapped it.

  Every second they’d spent drinking wine and eating Jax’s stash of Twizzlers, hunkered under that itchy army blanket had been pure heaven for her. A heaven she was bound to fall from if she kept thinking that way.

  Em folded her hands in front of her and examined her nail polish. To look at Dixie could be likened to confession, if she was Catholic and she went to confession.

  Dixie knew her better than anyone. She had a way of making her confess things she didn’t want to confess. “Yes, Ms. Davis?”

  Dixie sat down in front of her desk and gave her an endearing smile. Em knew that smile. Dixie had smiled it back in high school—just before she’d talked her into prank calling the local pizzeria and ordering twenty anchovy pizzas delivered to Louella Palmer’s house because Louella had made her angry at cheerleading practice. “I’m going to be bold.”

  Em’s eyebrow rose in the way it always did when Dixie declared she was going to do something she did on a regular basis. It was the new Dixie’s way of warning you she was going to stick her nose where it didn’t belong. “Because you and demure are so tight?”

  “You’ve had sex.”

  Oh, boy. Did I ever. I’ve had the best sex I’ve ever had, and I can’t stop thinking about it. But Em cocked her head and gave Dixie the “you’re crazy” look. “I have not.” She had to be very careful here. If she went too far in her “I didn’t have sex” defense, she’d ramble and look guilty because she was the worst sort of liar. If she remained silent, she’d look just as guilty.

  This was a delicate matter she was going to have to handle with kid gloves—find the in-between and ride that fence.

  “You have, too.”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  Dixie bounced her hand on the desk, slapping it. “You have so, Emmaline! I know it. And if you don’t want to tell me about it, that’s just fine, but I know I speak the truth.”

  “You wouldn’t know the truth if it hit you with a Louboutin.”

  “I call foul. You did so have sex.”

  “You can call whatever kind of bird you’d like. I did not have sex.”

  Dixie’s rich laughter filled the office at Em’s intentional misuse of the word. “Then where were you last night when I called you at ten sharp? I know it was ten sharp because that’s when you watch the DIY channel for an hour until bedtime. Caine was in Johnsonville last night, and I
thought maybe we could watch over the phone together. But you weren’t home.”

  “I was so. I went to bed early.” Sort of. Technically, she’d gone to bed.

  “Oh, no. I know that’s not true. Do you want to know how I know that’s not true?”

  “Again, we’re back at the word truth. What does Dixie Davis know about the truth?” She gave her a saucy lift of her eyebrow and flipped through the latest Call Girl stats.

  “I know it’s not true because you didn’t let Dora out at nine-thirty. Alder Caldwell says you let Dora out at exactly nine-thirty every night. His bedroom faces your back door off the kitchen. But last night, he didn’t hear Dora whine to come in until three in the morning. Plus, you have bags under your eyes. Big, dark bags. So dark, they’re like the baggage claim carousel at the airport, annnd you have a stiff neck. Suspiciously, Jax’s back is sore today. Could it be that Jax and my Emmaline have similar ailments because they did similar sexually related acts?”

  Damn. Most times it was nice to have neighbors who looked out for you. Especially when you were single and the sole protector of your castle.

  When you were having no-strings sex like a shameless sex addict, not as nice. And they’d have to do something about that air mattress. Invest in an upgrade, find a new place to meet or something, because all these aches and pains would give them both away. “And when did Alder tell you this?”

  Dixie gave her a sour look. “Well, he didn’t tell me, silly. No one tells me anything, remember? Plum Orchard’s favorite pariah? He was telling Louella Palmer at Madge’s this morning while I was getting coffee...”

  Em glanced at the clock on the wall of her office. It was almost noon—that meant all the Plum Orchardians in Plum Orchard-ville were about to eviscerate her over their grilled cheese sandwiches. But there was no proof. She’d made certain of that. So, too bad, Louella Palmer. “FYI, gossipmonger, Dora had a bit of a stomach bug last night. She woke me up, and that’s why I let her out so late.”

  Again, not a total lie. Dora had thrown up all over the carpet, and she really had let her out at three in the morning when she’d gotten home from Jax’s. Actually, it had been three-o-six when she’d caught a glimpse of her alarm clock and realized that all this illicit sex she was planning on having would have to have an egg timer set on it.