His Forever Ride

Chapter Three – Heat and Honey

They ate at the table like it mattered.

Not in front of the TV, not perched on the counter, not with distractions pulling them apart. Just the two of them. Candles flickering low, silverware clinking softly, and the scent of roasted garlic and tomato rising between them.

Taylor sat across from Jax, watching the tension leave his shoulders one bite at a time. He’d barely spoken about whatever Kellan had brought to him earlier, and she didn’t press. Not yet. Tonight wasn’t about the club. It was about them.

And he seemed to know it.

“This is the best lasagna I’ve had in my life,” he said after the second bite, leaning back slightly in his chair.

Taylor raised an eyebrow. “In your life?”

He nodded seriously. “Not even being dramatic.”

She smirked. “You’re lucky you’re pretty.”

He shot her a look over the rim of his wine glass, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I don’t think you dressed like that for lasagna.”

Taylor swallowed, pulse kicking up slightly. “No. I didn’t.”

He set his fork down. His wine glass followed.

Taylor stood slowly, walking around the table with deliberate ease. His eyes tracked her the entire way. When she reached him, she slipped her hand behind his neck and leaned down, brushing her lips across his.

He grabbed her waist, pulling her gently into his lap, and she went easily, straddling him in that low, candlelit hush. Her hands cupped his face. His fingers splayed over her hips.

When he kissed her again, it wasn’t rushed. It was reverent. Deep.

She felt him exhale into her mouth like he’d been holding it in all day.

They didn’t make it to the bedroom.

The dress slipped off in the living room, pooling like red silk fire at her feet. His shirt was gone before she even realized he’d pulled it over his head. She was in his lap again, only this time, skin to skin, chest to chest, surrounded by the flicker of firelight and the faint scent of coconut and wine.

He touched her like he knew every inch. Kissed her like it was a promise.

No ghosts. No guilt. Just now.

When he finally sank into her, Taylor pressed her forehead to his and whispered his name like a prayer. His hands gripped her thighs, his breath stuttering as she rolled her hips slowly, deliberately, drawing him deeper, slower.

The world outside didn’t matter.

There was only this.

Only him.

Only home.

Later, they lay tangled on the rug, limbs loose and laughter quiet. The candles burned lower. The cheesecake sat forgotten in the fridge.

Jax pulled her close, fingers running through her hair, and kissed the top of her head like it was instinct.

Taylor closed her eyes, chest rising against his.

This wasn’t just passion.

This was peace.

And she wasn’t going anywhere.

Jax’s hand skimmed the curve of her hip, then traced the edge of the red lace still clinging to her body.

“This,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “might be my favorite thing you’ve ever worn.”

Taylor laughed softly, her mouth brushing along his jaw. “Did you even see it?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean before it came off in the middle of the living room?”

“Exactly.” She grinned, leaning over him now, hair falling like a curtain between them. “I wasn’t sure you noticed.”

Jax ran his hands slowly up her thighs. “I noticed,” he said, voice thick. “I’m still noticing.”

Taylor rolled her hips just slightly where she straddled him, and the sharp inhale he gave was all the answer she needed. She leaned down, pressing a deep, lingering kiss to his mouth—one that made her pulse jump and her toes curl just a little against the rug.

When she pulled back, her lips brushed his ear. “Good. Because I bought it for you.”

She kissed down his neck, then lower, tracing a line along his chest with her mouth, slow and unhurried. She felt the way his muscles tightened under her, the subtle catch in his breath as she teased a line with her tongue.

Her hands braced on either side of him, the lace brushing against his skin as she moved lower, letting her lips ghost over the edges of old scars and newer strength.

Jax’s fingers threaded into her hair, but he didn’t guide—he just held. Letting her take her time. Letting her have him.

And God, she loved that. The trust. The weight of it.

“You’re trying to kill me,” he said through a ragged breath.

She smiled against his skin. “I’m just making up for this morning.”

Jax let out a low, breathy laugh. “Then I hope we get interrupted more often.”

Taylor looked up at him, her mouth hovering just above his stomach.

“Careful what you wish for,” she said with a wink.

Then she kissed him again, lower this time.

And after that, neither of them spoke for a while.

Taylor took her time.

She kissed her way down his body like she had nowhere else to be—soft and slow, with a confidence that made Jax’s jaw go tight and his breath shallow. Her hands roamed over the curves of his chest, the rough strength of his abdomen, her touch a deliberate tease that bordered on worship.

When she reached where he was already hard and aching for her, she looked up at him through her lashes, that quiet fire burning behind her eyes.

He didn’t speak.

He didn’t have to.

She dipped her head, lips parting, and took him into her mouth with a slow, steady rhythm that made him groan and tilt his head back against the rug. His fingers stayed tangled in her hair, not forcing—just feeling, grounded in her, undone by her.

Taylor moved with purpose, with care, letting every flick of her tongue, every drag of her mouth, send him closer to the edge.

And Jax—tough, steady, silent Jax—was unraveling beneath her hands.

When she finally pulled back, his eyes were half-lidded, jaw clenched, chest rising like he’d just come back from somewhere far.

She didn’t give him time to recover.

Taylor climbed back up his body, mouth meeting his again, and he pulled her tightly against him like he couldn’t stand the space between them for even a second more.

He flipped her over in one smooth motion, her back hitting the rug as he kissed her hard—deep and breathless, all heat and promise. Then, without a word, he scooped her into his arms.

She laughed, breathless. “You’re carrying me now?”

“You did your part,” he growled into her neck. “Now let me do mine.”

He carried her through the house, up the stairs, through the soft light of their bedroom—her legs wrapped around his waist, fingers digging into his shoulders, her lips against the side of his throat.

When they hit the bed, it was slower this time. More deliberate.

Jax moved inside her like he had all night. Like he was still chasing every part of her, even though he already had it.

Taylor clung to him, letting go completely, lost in the weight of his body, the softness of his mouth, the rhythm they’d carved between them.

And when they finally collapsed together, tangled in sweat and sheets and breathless laughter, it wasn’t just lust that hummed between them.

It was everything.

Love. Trust. Home.

Afterward, Jax lay on his back, one arm tucked under his head, the other stretched across her bare back. Taylor rested her cheek against his chest, fingers absently tracing one of the faded scars along his ribs.

“You’re gonna fall asleep on me,” she murmured, her voice thick with sleep and satisfaction.

“I’m not,” he said, already half there.

She smiled and closed her eyes. “It’s okay. I’ll be here in the morning.”

His hand slid up to the back of her neck, warm and solid.

“Good,” he whispered. “I like waking up to you.”

And with that, they drifted off, wrapped in each other, in the house they’d built, in the life they were finally living.