“What?” He lifted the wine. “Not your style?”

“You don’t have to wine me and dine me.”

He used a corkscrew to open the wine. Jax grabbed two glasses.

“I want to fuck you, Jax. I thought I made that clear.”

Fuck you. His eyes closed for a moment. “I was trying not to strip you and take you on the stairs.” He turned back toward her. Offered her a glass of the wine. “I’m not sure what you’ve heard about me . . .” Though he could well imagine. “But I can be gentlemanly, to a degree.”

She tasted the wine. Then she downed it in one gulp—like it had been a shot glass.

His lips twitched.

“I don’t remember asking you to be gentlemanly.”

He took his time savoring the wine, the way he planned to savor her.

“We don’t have a lot of time,” she said. “So, um, not to rush you or anything here but—”

Jax put down the wineglass. “We have as long as we want.” Then he made his way to her. Slowly, letting his gaze sweep over every inch of her body. “There’s no one here but me and you. No one to see us. No one to hear us.” His hand lifted and sank into her hair. “So you don’t have to pretend here with me. You can let go.”

Her lips parted in surprise.

That’ s right, Sarah. I know who you are on the inside.

“Let go,” he told her, “and go wild, for me.” Then he kissed her. She’d been sweet before, so delicious, but now with the taste of that wine on her lips, she was more than enough to make him a little drunk.

Her hands curled around his shoulders and she leaned up to him. She was kissing him back with a passion that had his cock jerking and wanting to shove deep in her. As deep as he could go. And, as he’d told her, she could scream for him. Scream and scream and he’d be the only one to hear her.

He shoved away Sarah’s jacket. It hit the floor. He yanked up her shirt and tossed it aside. She wore a light blue bra, one that lifted her breasts, pushing them up so perfectly toward him. He just had to lick them.

“I don’t need foreplay,” Sarah gasped, her words husky and hot. “I just want you.”

But he wanted foreplay because Jaxe wanted to learn every inch of her body. He picked Sarah up, and her hands tightened around him. “My house,” he told her, “my rules.” He carried her back into the den. Then spread her out on the couch. He’d have her on those stairs later. Have her in his bed. But first . . . he’d taste all of her.

He stripped the rest of her clothes away. Left the thin scrap of light blue silk that covered her sex. Her nipples were tight and flushed pink and when he took one into his mouth, she nearly bolted off the couch. Such a lovely start. But he’d have much more.

His hand slid between her legs. Pressed to the silk of her panties. Sarah’s hips surged up against him. Now that was nice.

“Don’t play,” she ordered him, her voice a sensual temptation that shot straight to his cock. “I want you, now.”

But first, he wanted her to come.

He pulled the panties down her legs. Let his fingers skim over her thighs. Sarah was delightfully bare and he loved that. Nothing in his way. He could look and touch and take.

And he did. He parted her legs and opened her sex to him. His fingers trailed lightly over the delicate flesh. A half moan slipped from Sarah when he thrust his index finger into her. So tight. She was going to feel fucking insane around him. But first—

Taste.

He put his mouth on her. Sarah’s hips surged, not to get away from his lips, but to get closer. He licked her. He sucked and he realized she tasted far, far better than the wine.

His fingers stroked her even as his mouth learned all her sweetest spots. And when she stiffened beneath him, when she called out his name, he licked her even more.

Jax tasted her pleasure when she came.

In-fucking-credible.

He put on a condom. Positioned his body right between her legs. Then he waited for her gaze to find his. Because he needed to stare into her eyes when he took her.

Sarah looked up at him. Her eyes were even darker than before. He caught her hands in his, making sure to use care with her bandage so he didn’t jostle her injury.

Then . . .

He took.

Jax plunged into her, driving deep in one thrust and—heaven. As close to it as he’d ever get, anyway. She was tight and wet and hot and he was pretty sure his head might explode at any moment. He thrust in and out, moving in a frantic rhythm because his control was shot to hell and back. Sarah was with him, arching toward his hips wildly, moaning his name, calling out to him to move—

“Harder! Faster! Yes!”

She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. The sexiest woman he’d ever met.

She came for him again. When her sex tightened around him, squeezing along the length of his cock, he erupted.

THE REDHEAD STOOD in front of the bar, her hands twisting at her sides. The crowd was heavy around her, jostling and laughing. On Bourbon Street, the party never ended.

Never.

People of all ages were out there. Seventy-year-olds. Sixteen-year-olds.

This girl—she was older than sixteen. She barely appeared to be legal, but he knew she was past the age of twenty-one.

Some frat boys called out to her, and she tensed. She didn’t speak back to them. Maybe she realized that would have just been a mistake. They would have kept talking to her. Kept flirting. Maybe wanted more.

There was plenty of “more” to be found on that street. Strip clubs waited just a few doors down. Girls were in front of those doors, too, but not girls like this one. Those girls were wearing see-through negligees and high heels. Scraps of panties and bras that just revealed instead of concealed. They were calling out to all the men and women who passed, promising them private shows.

The girl with the long red hair—hair she’d pulled back in a braid—didn’t look as if she wanted to give anyone a show. Instead . . .

“Are you waiting for someone?” he asked her.

She spun around. Her eyes found his. He saw the hint of fear there and realized that he’d startled her.

Before he was done, he’d do more than just make her nervous. He’d terrify her.

“I am.” Her shoulders straightened. “My brother. He said he’d meet me after my shift tonight.”

Oh, but he can’t, baby. Your brother is in jail. Seems he tried to attack a woman in her hotel room and got his ass tossed in a cell. He snapped his fingers together. “I knew you were Molly! Eddie is a buddy of mine. He asked me to swing by and make sure you got home all right.”

But Molly backed away from him. “You don’t . . . look like one of Eddie’s friends.”

Mostly because he wasn’t one of Eddie’s friends. Despite what the fool had thought. “He’s done some work for me before.” He smiled at her. “The kid has a gift with that guitar of his. I’ve had him do a few gigs at some of my places around town.”

Her smile came then, slow, but there.

He offered her his hand. “My name’s Jax. Jax Fontaine.”

Her fingers curled around his.

She was still so hesitant. She held his hand a moment, then immediately let go. “I . . . um, thank you for coming out, but I can get home just fine by myself.”

Molly wasn’t one of the strippers or dancers. She didn’t even tend bar. She had a job as a dishwasher at the bar across the street. She worked nights and went to the community college during the day.

“I know, Molly,” he told her, as he inched a bit closer. “I know why you don’t like to walk home alone and I know why your brother made me swear I’d see you home safely tonight.”

She caught the end of her braid. Pulled a bit nervously on it.

“Your mother,” he said, voice soft and sad. He thought he added just the right touch of sympathy. An amount sure to fool Molly.

She flinched.