DD, Apparently pain meds and I should never dare meet. This tongue of mine gets me in trouble…I can tell by the twinkle in his eyes and the relaxed shoulder that he was not carrying around before I partook.
Save me,
Mira
When I wake up the next morning, Jaxson is sitting next to me in bed, hair still wet from his shower, and reading.
“I’ve never seen you read a book. You finally learned to read?” I tease, wincing when I move.
“Very funny. Are you in a lot of pain?” he asks, adjusting the pillow under my foot.
“It hurts like a mother,” I groan. “Where are my happy pills?”
He laughs. “You were happy all right. And so entertaining,” he adds, tapping my nose. “And sweet.”
I glare at him and decide to try to make the trek to the bathroom. “Did I do anything to embarrass myself? I don’t really remember anything except for a supreme state of well-being.”
His grin grows and it makes me nervous.
“What? What did I say?” A vague memory of us chatting while I was in the tub comes back. “Did you see me naked?” I yell.
He stands up and hurries to the other side of the bed and helps me hobble to the bathroom. “No, I did not see you naked. You had bubbles, and I kept my eyes averted the whole…most of the time. I might have seen the tiniest edge of your, uh, your areola, but I very quickly looked away.”
I shake my head and scoff. “You’re such a perv.”
“What can I say? You’re beautiful. It was excruciating to look away—everything inside me wanted to stare—but I did not take advantage, I promise. Are you okay?”
“Yeah, but now I’m terrified to take the pills. You look far too smug for my liking.”
“You didn’t say anything embarrassing. You were refreshingly honest,” he says.
“Refreshingly honest,” I humph.
I shut the door on him and scowl at myself in the mirror. I wonder what I said but decide I can’t worry about it; my ankle hurts too much to go without the meds today. I clean up and Jaxson taps on the door.
“Do you need me to help you get dressed?” he asks.
“You’ve lost your mind!” I call back.
He laughs. “And she’s back,” he says.
“I don’t even want to know what that means, do I?”
“Nope,” he says, stepping away from the door.
It takes forever, shuffling around to get into clean shorts and a tank top, but I manage to do it without his help. I put on a little mascara and lip gloss but still look out of it. When I hobble out, his eyes zero in on my chest. I look down and my nipples are standing at attention.
“Get your eyes back in your head. I can’t bra today. Sorry. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t seen them before.”
“And I’ve dreamed of them every day since,” he says, rubbing his lips together. “It’s like a gift from the nipple gods. Thank you.”
He turns around and I think he’s adjusting himself.
I roll my eyes. “Boys are such dolts.”
“I’m a dolt for you, that’s for certain.”
I have to suck in my cheeks to keep from laughing at that. I climb onto the bed and he brings the room service menu to me.
“How about we order one of everything? I’m starving,” he says. “And the doc said today and probably tomorrow, we should try to beat the pain with the meds, so let’s get you fed and medicated.”
“Mm-hmm, you just want to have an arsenal to make fun of me with…”
He makes a face of mock horror. “Never.”
Later, after we’re flipping through the channels after pigging out, I look at him. “I’m sorry for ruining our day in New York.”
“Are you kidding? I’m having the best time. I don’t care what we do, Bells. I mean…it’s kind of weird that every time we try to follow the list, it backfires, but…I like what we’ve done with it. Don’t you? Except for the part where you broke your ankle because that really blows…” He shakes his head and looks up at the ceiling. “I’m an idiot. It all blows, doesn’t it? We’re supposed to be in Paris and we’re stuck here in this hotel room.”
“We’ve definitely made the best of the situation.” I look at him and he puts his hand on mine, slowly tickling my fingers. We both watch his hand as it traces little swirls across my skin and I shiver.
“Hey, I’ve been wanting to ask…well, not really, but I have to know anyway. What’s going on with you and Chad?”
“We broke up,” I say and he threads his fingers through mine. I give him an incredulous look and pull my hand away. “Which changes nothing.”
“No, it doesn’t change much,” he agrees, “but it’s a step in the right direction.”
“Not for you,” I say cheekily. “I do miss sex though. How long has it been for you?” I turn to face him and spit out a string of curses for the stinking albatross that is my ankle.
He puts his hand on my arm and his expression is pained. “What can I do?”
“Nothing. It’s not so bad if I don’t make sudden movements.” I get comfortable in the new position and motion my hand for him to talk.
“I don’t want to talk about this with you.”
“We can’t talk about sex? Why not? You want to be friends, right? Isn’t this what friends do—talk about everything?”
“No, I don’t want to be—I mean, I do, I do want us to be friends, but I want so much more than that. I’m afraid anything I say about this will just make you hate me more—”
“Because you’re a manwhore?”
He rubs his hand across his face and laughs, but it sounds bleak. “I’m not. Not anymore. Never, really…not in comparison with most of my friends, anyway.”
“I’m kidding. I can’t talk really. I’ve given it up for more people than I expected to by now.”
He groans and pounds the back of his head against the headboard. “I really, really don’t want to talk about this with you.”
“Either we’re going to be friends after this trip or we’re going our separate ways once and for all, don’t you think? Why not say everything?”
“I refuse to let us go our separate ways,” he says. “And you might not remember everything we say anyway, while you’re in this state—maybe that’s a good thing,” he adds. “I have so many regrets, and it makes me sick when I think about all the roadblocks I put between us. I acted like a raging hormone and lost sight of everything for a while. But when I woke up…” He looks at me and his eyes are so sad, I reach out and touch his cheek.
His bottom lip is so full and begging to be touched. I stare at how perfect his mouth is and then up to his eyes, which hypnotize me. Come closer, they whisper. I’m powerless when he looks at me like this. Our lips barely touch, but one of us shocks the other, a tiny electric spark that jolts us. We pull back, his thumb sweeping across my lips, and he groans before pulling my mouth to his. He keeps one hand on my face and the other drags through my hair, gripping me tighter. The kiss deepens and there is no awkwardness trying to recall how we best work together. Our memory serves us well. It’s still magic. And something more, something explosive that time apart has only magnified.
We explore each other like our taste fulfills every craving, and it’s how I feel—I never want it to end. He’s everything I want, everything I need. When he pulls back, I whimper and he kisses along my jaw and up to my ear, teasing me. His fingers slide back and forth under the strap of my tank top, and then his mouth moves down my neck and lower, but not past the material. His nose dips into the valley between my breasts and his tongue traces a trail from there and up, up to my neck so painfully slow, until he reaches my lips again. I can’t take it anymore, and I pull his face to mine and kiss him until we’re breathless.
I yank his shirt off and he stares at me then, chest heaving, pupils dilated. My nipples hurt, straining against my shirt and he flicks his thumb across one, making my back arch.
“God, Mira. I want you so much,” he whispers, his mouth crashing against mine.
His hands grip my waist and one hand slides under my shirt, cupping my breast. I lean into it, willing him to do whatever he wants with me. Instead, something changes in that moment, it’s almost as if a big bucket of ice water pours over us. He suddenly goes still and leans his forehead against mine, shaking it slightly.
“I’m not gonna mess this up with you again, Bells. I’m sorry—I lost my head there,” he says shakily.
I pull away and stand up. It takes me a moment to get my balance, and I can’t believe I can’t stalk away when I need to. He gets up and puts his hand on my arm.
“Don’t.” I hold my hand out, and his hand falls. I can’t look at him.
“I just…did I botch it up by kissing you or by stopping?” he asks. “Because there is nothing I want more—”
“I think it’d be best if we went home.”