Moments later, I feel the warm caress of his lips between the center of my legs. Heat instantly bursts through my body and coils deep inside me. My muscles ravel with the first swipe of his tongue. I grip onto the blanket, desperate to hold onto something. I feel like I’m leaning over a cliff, about to fall into a place I’ve never been before. I’m terrified yet excited. Eager yet reluctant.

“Clara,” Jax groans my name then drags his tongue down my center, “relax.”

A gasp falters from my lips and I free the blanket from my hold and pull at the strands of his hair. All reservations suddenly melt, and the slow, calculated movements turn to untamed desire.

He licks and tugs and kisses as I writhe my hips against him. My body pulsates with need and my lungs struggle for oxygen as I drift farther away. My skin dampens and my mind empties. One last lick from his tongue pushes me over the edge. I cry out Jax’s name as I desperately tug at his hair, coming undone completely.

When I return to reality, Jax is kneeling between my legs and staring down at me. Strands of his brown hair are sticking up, probably from me pulling so hard.

“You okay?” His voice carries hesitancy.

I bob my head up and down. “Yeah, I’m fine.” My voice sounds gravelly. “I’ve never done that before. It was… interesting.”

The corners of his lips quirk. “Just interesting?”

I’m too tired to shrug. “And good.”

“Interesting and good?” He presses his hand to his chest, appearing a little hurt. “Wow, I must have sucked.”

Laughter escapes me, and even though it takes a lot of energy, I prop up on my elbows. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Then what did you mean?”

“That it was really, really fantastic. The best I’ve ever had.”

“But you just said you’d never done that before.”

“So? It was still fantastic.”

“Good.” He grins then leans down to kiss me.

I want to slide out from underneath him and put the barrier up between us again, but I’m too exhausted to move. At least, that’s the reason I give myself. Deep down, I know there’s more to it than that. There’s a reason Jax is pretty much the only person who can make me smile anymore, who can make me laugh. Who can sneak past that wall I have around me. Because I care about him more than I want to admit.

I’ll put the rules back into play tomorrow, I vow to myself as our lips connect. I can’t let this get out of hand. Can’t let my heart get broken again.

But as our lips connect and my body nearly trembles for his touch, I wonder if maybe I’m too late. The moment I agreed to this trip, I was pretty much agreeing to get closer to Jax. Eventually, I’m going to have to tell him what he’s getting into.

I just hope he doesn’t ruin me.

Chapter Seven

Jax

Eighteen hours after we leave the motel, Clara and I pull up to my childhood home. It looks worse than it did when I left—the entire neighborhood does. The siding is peeling off the two-story home, the porch is caving in, and the lawn is yellow and patchy. Someone has ripped up chunks of the concrete around the yard, for who knows what reason.

“This is home sweet home.” I announce in a flat, unenthusiastic tone as I park the Jeep in the driveway.

“So, this is where you grew up?” Clara tentatively asks and I nod. She bites on her thumbnail as she studies the broken windows and shingles peeling off the roof.

Ever since we left the motel room, she’s been acting torn over something. She hasn’t been cold toward me or anything like that, but she’s been stuck in some sort of internal battle over something ever since I spread her legs and kissed her until she came apart. I didn’t mean to take things that far with her. I was only messing around, figuring she’d stop me before I got too far, but she’d practically came undone just from me licking her stomach.

“Are you sure it’s safe to go in?” Clara asks, plucking at the loose threads of her cutoff shorts.

I stare at the house, remembering all the rough, slightly insane people that have been in there. “Maybe I should go in first and check things out.”

She glances around at the crumbling home next door. “I think I might feel safer being with you.”

“Clara, I don’t want you to worry.” I unbuckle my seatbelt and reach over the console to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

“I know you won’t.” Her fingers fold around the door handle. “But I want to go inside with you for support.” She offers me a smile.

An emotional lump forms in my throat. “Okay, just stay close.”

I get out of the car and meet her around the front. I lace my fingers through hers as we step up the rickety porch toward the front door. She doesn’t pull away this time, probably because she’s scared out of her damn mind.

Like the officer told me, the front door is busted in and hanging on one of the hinges.

“What happened to the door?” Clara gapes at the splintered wood of the doorframe.

“Someone probably kicked it in when my mother didn’t answer. It happens sometimes.” I squeeze her hand before stepping into the house.

The living room is exactly how I remember. Stained orange and brown carpet, broken glass on the floor, empty syringes everywhere. Alcohol bottles line the crooked stairway, and the air reeks of cigarette smoke and mold.