Holding my hand and gazing up at me, she sighed. “I suppose if I’m going to be your wife, I ought to have a nickname for you. Does anyone call you Jax?” Oh God, she moaned. God, yes. Please—Jax— With a gargantuan effort of will, I pushed aside the memory of the intensely sexual dream I’d had about her after the first time we met. “No,” I said, my voice rough. “No one calls me Jax. No one but you.” When her lips curved up at the corners, I felt like I’d been living my life up to then at the bottom of a dark well filled with trash and slimy water, and someone had just lifted the lid and lowered
...more
