“How did you know that would get me to calm down?” I ask, my voice still a bit breathless.

He skims his finger along my cheekbone. “I’m the queen of anxiety attacks, sweetheart. I have to do that shit all the time.”

I can’t help but smile a bit. “Queen, huh? Not king?”

“Fuck no. I’d way rather be a queen than a king. Kings are way too power hungry.” His tone is light and playful. I appreciate it, but …

“Are you still drunk?” I ask, sliding my hands around his waist.

“A little bit,” he answers while shivering. “You?”

“A little.” I brush my fingers along the flesh of his back, the feel of it calming me down slightly.

He shivers again, and I’m unsure if it’s from me touching him or the fact that the house is getting cold without the heater running.

“Raven,” he whispers while lowering his forehead to mine, “if you keep touching me like that, I’m gonna …” He trails off, leaning in to, I think, kiss me.

My heart pounds in my chest louder than the thunder as his lips brush mine. I gasp, digging my fingernails into his back, and a moan fumbles from his lips.

I start to withdraw, wondering if I hurt him.

“No,” he quickly says. “Don’t move your hands. Please … just touch me like that again.”

A little confused, I place my hands on his back again.

He kisses me again, this time biting my bottom lip. He groans again while thrusting his hips against mine as he parts my lips with his tongue.

Oh my God …

This kissing thing …

The art of it …

It’s wonderfully complicated …

And boy, oh boy, are my thoughts precisely accurate because, a moment later, Hunter and Zay walk into the kitchen. We don’t hear the door open right away or notice the glow of the candles they’re carrying, so they get a full view of Jax and me kissing.

“You have got to be shitting me,” Hunter mumbles.

The sound of his voice slices through the kiss, and Jax and I jerk back.

The candlelight casts across Hunter’s face, illuminating the anger in his blue eyes. The anger that is directed at Jax. He doesn’t say anything; just shakes his head, spins around, and hurries out of the room.

“Fuck,” Jax curses as he pushes away from me and drags his hand through his hair.

Zay is holding a candle, so I get a good glimpse of the concern in Jax’s eyes and the annoyance in Zay’s.

“You gonna go talk to him?” Zay asks Jax with his brow meticulously arched.

Jax drops his arm to his side as he nods. “Yeah …” He starts for the door, flicking one last glance in my direction before exiting the kitchen.

I swallow hard as I slowly look away from the door and shift my gaze to Zay. Then I brace myself for some asshole remark about how them fighting is my fault. And it probably is. I just can’t quite figure out why, and that pisses me off. Are my people skills so messed up that I literally have no social skills whatsoever?