Reckless Paradise [a descendants story]

Chapter Eleven | Rumours

As the weeks rolled by into months, Quinn began to get used to life on the Isle. More than get used to, she began to enjoy it, even the fighting.

Adrenaline rushes were not new to Quinn, but she had never before felt the rush of a fight, a life or death situation. And as her skill and confidence in combat grew, so did her enjoyment.

It was a regular night on the Jolly Roger. Quinn and Jax sat in his cabin, playing their nearly-nightly game of chess.

"I can't believe you said the first night we played that you weren't very good," Jax said surveilling the board before moving his knight. "We're evenly matched."

"That doesn't necessarily mean that I'm very good," Quinn said with a smile. "Perhaps you are also not very good." She moved her rook, hesitating a moment before letting it go.

He looked at her and then at the board with a smirk as though she had just fallen into his trap. However, as she had learned throughout their many games together, this confidence was merely another one of his strategies, meant to make you question your moves. He slid his bishop out of the way of her rook.

The game continued as it usually did, evenly matched until one pulled ahead. Tonight, it was Quinn. She squinted at the board before slowly sliding her queen over one space. "Checkmate, if I'm not mistaken."

Jax regarded the board, then sighed, knocking his king over. He smiled. "It seems you've bested me; for the fourth time this week too."

Quinn grinned. "I promise not to tell anyone."

"Are you kidding?" Jax stood up and stepped behind Quinn, wrapping his arms around her shoulders. "I'm the lucky guy who's with someone as smart as you. Feel free to tell anyone." He kissed the top of her head. "Rematch?"

Quinn turned in her seat, looking up at him. "I should probably turn in," she said. "Early watch."

Jax nodded and Quinn stood up from her seat. She kissed him lightly. "Goodnight, Jax,"

"Goodnight," he murmured.

She turned to leave, but just as she had her hand on the doorknob, Jax said, "Unless." Quinn turned. "Unless you want to stay the night." His voice was soft. In his eyes, Quinn could see a lot of her own feelings reflected: uncertainty, tenderness, want.

She swallowed. Everything in her wanted to overthink, to overanalyze. But her heart, beginning to race, wanted none of that. "Alright," she said quietly, nodding. "Yeah."

In two steps, Jax was in front of her, his soft lips on hers. Quinn tossed off her jacket before curling her fingers into Jax's hair. It was nothing like the first kiss or the many since, all adrenaline and lust, it was tender and warm and thorough. Jax pressed her against the wall gently and Quinn's hands ran down his chest to the waistband of his pants, where she carefully began pulling his tucked shirt out. Jax's hands had already been exploring under her top, so when they broke apart momentarily, both shirts were shucked and abandoned.

Pieces of clothing dropped around their feet as they slowly moved towards the bed. Quinn felt a gentle cool breeze waft over her newly exposed skin.

When the backs of her knees hit the bed, Quinn lost her balance and tumbled backwards. She laughed, thinking how incredibly unromantic this was. Then she looked up at Jax, who gazed down at her, eyes raking over every curve of her body. Quinn resisted the urge to cover up.

Jax smiled to himself. "Damn."

Quinn blushed, rolling her eyes, and slid back to prop herself up on her elbows by the pillows. She let herself really look at Jax, the lean muscle from his years of fighting – and the many scars. Every move he made was purposeful, graceful.