“I’ve never treated you like that.”
“So, why won’t you tell me what the problem is? You think I’m not hurt when you won’t even look at me?” Pandora’s fingers curled tightly in her napkin. She shouldn’t make a big deal out of this. She shouldn’t. And yet she couldn’t stop the words from tumbling out. “You could at least have said something about my dress.” It sounded so ridiculous now she’d said it, but shit, she wasn’t taking it back. She wasn’t.
His gaze flickered. “It’s beautiful.”
“You’re not even looking at it.”
“I don’t need to.” He reached for the menu again. “I know you have great taste. And speaking of which, we should order food.”
Damn him. Perhaps she should close the distance between them in a different way. Move over there next to him and put her hand on his cock, see just how uninterested he really was. Then again, this was a restaurant and they were in public.
“Don’t be an asshole and don’t ignore me like I’m not even here.” She smoothed out her napkin on her knees. “This is about yesterday, isn’t it?”
He didn’t say anything for a long moment, then he lifted his gaze from the menu. “In a way. I’ve decided it’s not happening between us again, Pandora. I’m not going to let it.”
Well, that sure as hell didn’t make any sense “What you do mean it’s not happening between us?”
“Sleeping together for a start.”
Sharp hurt slid through her. “Why? You want me. I know you do.”
Behind his blue eyes, she caught glimpses of the tiger prowling and it made her mouth go dry. “I do want you. All the time. And that’s the problem. You’re making me feel like I’m losing control and like I told you yesterday, that can’t happen.”
At that point the waiter came with their drinks. She sat there, stunned and silent, while the guy fussed around with the ice bucket and went into a long spiel about the menu.
So he did want her. All the time. Beneath the shock satisfaction gripped her.
She ordered something—she didn’t really pay attention to what—and then finally, when they were alone again, she said, “You don’t have to be in control all the freaking time, Jax.”
He put his hands flat on the table, his wineglass sitting between them. “Yes. I do. Because when I’m not in control, I fuck up. I make bad decisions.”
“What? Because of what happened with your mom and little brother?”
Jax lifted his gaze from his contemplation of the tablecloth. “I screwed up an incredibly fragile situation and I can’t afford to do that again. Especially not when I’m the one leading Morrow, when things are so delicate with the company’s reputation right now. I lost it with you the other day and—”
“And what? Gave me a mindless, screaming orgasm? That’s not screwing anything up as far as I’m concerned.”
His mouth tightened. “I’m sorry, Pandora, but this company is too important to risk on something as insignificant as lust.”
The cold, sharp hurt deepened, her earlier satisfaction sliding away. “So, what we have together is insignificant, is that what you’re saying? That the sex we had was meaningless? Do you have any idea how worthless that makes me feel?” She took a breath, her voice gone tight. “That night freed me, Jax.
You
freed me. After twenty-five fucking years. And now you’re telling me it was insignificant?”
A muscle ticked in his jaw. “Shit, that’s not what I meant.”
“Isn’t it?” Anger had ignited inside her, a glowing, hot furnace of hurt. “I think that’s exactly what you meant.” She picked her napkin up and tossed it on the table, determined to teach him a lesson, public restaurant or not. “Well, don’t worry, I won’t continue to inflict my insignificant self on you any longer.”
Jax tensed. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going to need to manufacture an argument or two in order to make our breakup believable, right? So let’s have our first argument right now.” She stood up and leaned across the table, staring into his dark blue eyes. “I’m not insignificant, you prick. And I won’t let you make me feel as though I am. I won’t let
anyone
make me feel like that ever again.” She picked up his champagne glass and held it experimentally. “Hmmm, I wonder. In the face? Or in the lap? Your choice.”
He’d headed into this evening intending to be firmly back in control, planning to tell her of his decision to stop sleeping with her calmly and logically. Then he’d seen her in the foyer of the Morrow Tower. In a strapless red cocktail dress with a slit in it that nearly went to her hip. With her black hair in a silky veil around her shoulders. Glossy red lipstick on her beautiful mouth.
And all he could think of doing was sliding his hand up the length of pale thigh revealed by that goddamn sexy dress she was wearing. Or perhaps pushing down the top of it so he could see her small, beautiful breasts. Or hell, even ripping it right off her then and there.
Which made it even more imperative that he
not
do any of those things.
So he’d busied himself with work phone calls and tried to ignore the beautiful woman sitting opposite him. Tried to stay detached and in control.
But that detachment had been steadily slipping through his grasp all evening and now it was nowhere to be found. Which was unacceptable. Especially with Pandora leaning over the table, giving him a magnificent view down her dress, waving her champagne flute threateningly, with her cheeks flushed and fire in her dark eyes.
Because he didn’t think he would be able to resist her. No matter what he might want to believe, the desire that gathered in him right now wasn’t in any way insignificant. It raged. Consumed. And it wanted to consume her. All her fire and lightning. Her anger and her passion. All that bright emotion she seemed to have no problem sharing.
His hand shot out, curling his fingers around her wrist, holding her tightly. “In my lap,” he growled. “And I’m not talking about the damn champagne.”
The anger in her eyes flared, a spark of heat that sent an electric shock all the way through him. “Really? And what
are
you talking about?”
The other diners were beginning to glance in their direction. A few raised their eyebrows and a couple leaned over to whisper to their dining companions.
Good Christ, he was losing it. What he should be doing was calmly defusing the situation and yet he couldn’t seem to find his usual calm. Or logic. Or detachment. They had all utterly gone.
“You,” he said roughly.
Her dark eyes widened theatrically. “You mean you want
me
in your lap?”
“Yes.”
“Gee. That’s too bad, Hunt. You missed your damn window. I’m out of here.”
Well done, asshole.
Fucking hell. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how detached or logical he was, no matter how in control of the situation he tried to be, he always ended up hurting people. Even when he thought he’d got himself under control, he said things that caused people pain. That screwed things up.
“You see what happens, Pandora?” he said harshly. “I hurt you. Even when I’m trying to stay in control, I hurt you.” He released her wrist all of sudden. “So, you want to throw a drink at me? Then do it. I deserve it.”
Her gaze met his, giving him a long, unreadable look before she picked up the glass. He’d never had a drink thrown at him before. He supposed it would be interesting to find out what it felt like. Cold probably.
Pandora’s eyes narrowed. Then she lifted the glass, tipped back her head and drank the entire thing before placing the flute delicately back on the table. Skirting around the table to his side of it, she slid over the bench seat toward him and with a graceful movement, eased herself into his lap, facing him. Her knees pressing into the seat on both sides of his thighs, she leaned forward, placing her hands on the back of the seat and holding on.
Her dark gaze looked into his. “Now what?”
Goddamn.
Shock held him still. He couldn’t seem to find enough air to breathe. All he was conscious of was the soft weight of her in his lap, the heat of her sex against his aching groin. The familiar sweet, musky scent of her. And those brown eyes of hers that constantly seemed to be daring him to do something he didn’t want to do. Or be someone he didn’t want to be.
Maybe she’s showing you who you’ve always been and don’t want to acknowledge?
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked hoarsely.
“You wanted me in your lap. So here I am.”
“We’re in public.”
“So? We’re supposed to be in love with each other, right?” She leaned forward, her breath hot in his ear. “By the way, I’m not wearing any underwear.”
Oh Jesus. Her hand dropped to cover one of his and she moved his palm to her knee. Sliding it further up the slit of her dress to her thigh. Then guiding it further still, up to the curve of her bottom. His breath caught—nothing but smooth, soft skin beneath his palm.
She shivered as she lifted her head, staring at him. Into him. Desire flared in her eyes, bright and open. She didn’t hide it. Didn’t pretend it wasn’t there. Didn’t try to control it. She never had.
“I want you,” she murmured. “And I don’t care that we’re in public. I don’t care that this is only supposed to be for show. What’s between us isn’t insignificant and the last thing I want to do is control it. And neither should you.” She leaned forward, her mouth so close to his. “You’ve been holding back again, Hunt. This is nothing to be afraid of and you know it.”
She was so brave. And beautiful. And free. Freer than he’d ever been.
Jax fumbled for the button at the back of the seat and the curtains around the table began to close, giving them privacy, and as he did so, she moved her hands, cupping his face between them, her palms cool against his jaw. Then she bent and kissed him, tasting of champagne and sweetness and heat.
Their kisses had always been exceptional and this was no different. All his good intentions fell away, burning to ash and he opened his mouth, deepening the kiss, one hand squeezing the bare curve of her buttock, the other slowly easing up her dress. She kissed him back, her mouth as hungry as his, her kisses just as needy and desperate.
Christ, she was right. Control wasn’t working. Neither was trying to stay detached and logical. So perhaps the only answer was to give in to it. Follow it wherever it led and trust her that it would be somewhere good.
The curtains closed around them, thick and heavy, shutting out sound, enclosing them in an intimately lit cave. Pandora gasped as he eased her dress up over her hips, sliding a hand between her spread thighs. Wetness covered his fingertips as he touched her slick flesh, then heat as he slid a finger inside her. She trembled, her eyes going wide, a moan escaping her. He pushed his finger deeper, curling it a little, making her shudder as he circled his thumb around her clit.
“Oh … Jesus … yes …” She leaned forward, her head on his shoulder, turning her face into his neck, her hips lifting, rocking against his hand. “That’s … so good.”
She was so hot. The tight clasp of her sex around his finger and the musky scent of her arousal driving him insane. He wanted her badly but he wanted to give her this more, especially after his dickish behavior earlier.
Tucking her head closer into his neck, he moved his hand, giving her the friction she needed, her breath hot and fast against his skin. She moaned, then turned and pressed her mouth to his shoulder, stifling her cries against the wool of his jacket.
Just as well. The curtains didn’t provide much in the way of soundproofing.
God, he wanted to be inside her so badly …
You’re really considering fucking her in a restaurant full of people?
Her body shuddered, the soft pressure of her teeth biting his shoulder through his jacket, the feel of her sex convulsing around his finger.
Christ, she hadn’t cared about the stupid restaurant. Or the people. All she’d wanted was him.
He removed his hand, shifting around so he could get his wallet out and dig out the condom. She lifted her head, her face pink in the dim light surrounding their table, her mouth full and red. “Damn you’re good,” she murmured. “You’re going to ruin me for other men.”
Other men. The thought made something possessive and hot roar through him. The same feeling he’d had when her father had mentioned giving her to Sergei. It was not fucking going to happen.
“There won’t be any other men, Pandora,” he said roughly, hardly listening to what he was saying. “Not now. Not ever.”
She blinked at him. “What?”
He was so hard he could barely think, tearing open the condom packet and sheathing himself. Then he put his hands on her hips and urging her up, then down again. His head knocked back hard against the red velvet of the seat at the feel of her, hot and liquid and tight around his cock.
The softness of her skin under his fingertips was incredible, her eyes so dark they were almost the same inky black as her hair. “It means you’re mine,” he said thickly. “Mine. Not anyone else’s. Understand?”
Her hands were pressed against his chest for balance. “Jax … I can’t … ”
But he was done with talking. So done with everything. Detachment, control, and logic. They were gone and good fucking riddance. Nothing mattered but her.
He leaned forward and kissed her, stopping the words, tasting her as he began to move, deep and slow. Her fingers curled into his chest, her mouth hungry on his, moving with him, a slow rise and fall that made him shudder with every movement.
God, she was driving him mad. Ever since the night he’d first seen her. Completely out of control. And shit, she was right. This feeling was nothing to be afraid of. In fact, the more he had of it, the more he wanted it. Wanted every single damn second he could get.
He gripped her hips hard, holding her steady as he thrust up inside her, harder, faster. Her head fell back, lashes fluttering closed, her soft pants filling the curtained space around their table. He loved the look on her face, the ecstasy. Loved knowing he’d put it there.
He tangled his fingers in the softness of her hair, bringing her mouth down on his again, kissing her deeper, hungrier. She didn’t want his control and neither did he. He’d take her wild and uninhibited and free. As uninhibited and free as she was.