This is not a chapter in my let’s see if Jax is being genuine and make him grovel book.
In my book, there’s no kissing.
No Jax’s tongue darting into my mouth, dancing with mine.
No Jax shifting me onto my side, hiking my leg up around his waist, and slipping his hand beneath my sleep shorts.
No Jax pushing me onto my back, pulling down my bra, and sucking on my nipple.
No Jax gently playing with my clit, as if it’s his favorite toy he must be careful with.
No Jax shoving not one, not two, but three skilled fingers inside me, groaning in my mouth about how much he loves how my pussy takes his fingers and dick.
No moans—ninety-five percent of them mine—radiating through the room.
No me begging him for more and him scooting down my body.
No him praising my pussy until I’m crying out his name to the ceiling.
None of that was in my plan, but sometimes, Jax Bridges starts kissing you, and all your plans get shot to hell.
My legs are shaking, and I open my eyes to find Jax on his knees between them, staring down at me, his boxer briefs down his thighs.
Did I pull those down? I honestly don’t recall.
No. It was him. Because I demanded it.
The moonlight peeks through the blinds, giving me a tiny glimpse of him stroking himself while telling me how much he’s missed being inside me, breaking down the details of how he’ll fuck me nice and slow.
And just as he starts guiding himself into my entrance, I clamp my legs tight around him and say, “Wait.”
He freezes, waiting for me to elaborate on my outburst.
My vagina is telling me I’m a stupid, stupid girl because it’d love nothing more than Jax’s cock, but I have to stand my ground.
Well, half-stand my ground because his mouth was just between my legs.
“I changed my mind,” I say with a shaky breath. “You can leave now.”
A dose of his own medicine.
His hand drops from his cock, but it’s so hard that it doesn’t move. “What?”
“Get back on the floor and stroke your cock, Bridges.”
He shakes his head, as if he didn’t hear me correctly.
“I’m not having you screw me and then say, Oh, good-bye. Heck, I wouldn’t even be surprised if you told me to leave my own home.”
“Bullshit, Amelia. You know that wouldn’t happen.”
“Hmm …”
He moves from between my legs, crawls up the bed, kisses my shoulder, and collapses onto his back next to me. “Is this my punishment? Like you actually want to torture, torture me?”
“I’m just suddenly so tired.” I fake a loud yawn. “And so is my vagina. She has a curfew.”
“Can I at least stay in the bed?” I can’t tell if he’s whining or forcing back a laugh. “I’m not saying you have to get me off. My dick will sadly stay to himself. But can’t a guy get a mattress for consoling you and then eating you until you fell apart underneath him? Not to say that I didn’t enjoy either one of those things because I most certainly did.”
“Fine, you can sleep in the bed.” I fake annoyance.
He turns on his belly, lifting himself up on one elbow, and stares down at me. “And we can still spoon, right?”
I groan, swatting him away when he licks my cheek. “Ugh, fine, but you’re pushing your luck.”
He kisses my nose and pulls back to look at me. I can’t see him that well, but it’s as if I can feel his eyes searching mine, tender yet hesitant.
Then, he shifts to his side and whispers, “Turn and face me, Amelia.”
I do as he asked.
He reaches out and runs his hand through my hair. Tears well in my eyes at his gentleness, at how he’s touching me as if I’m the most important person in his life.
“And I can call you mine again, right?” he softly asks, brushing his hand over my cheek. His voice is thick with emotion.
But I can’t give him that yet.
I can’t be his again because the next time I allow someone to call me his, I have to be certain he’ll stay.
My heart wrenches in my chest, and my throat burns with the need to tell him yes, but I can’t.
“Go to sleep, Jaxson.”
In a faint whisper, he says, “I love you.”
I lie there, and it hits me.
He calmed me down during my panic attack in the bedroom.
And then we almost had sex in this bed, in the one I’d shared with Christopher, and I’m not freaking out.
My hurt is my storm.
And Jax seems to be my shelter.