Chapter 8 #2
“Since—” Since you became my whole world.
Since you smiled at me at the airport and I felt like I’d found something I didn’t know I was missing.
Since forever. My face felt hot enough to fry an egg.
“Just forget it, Jaxson. I’m tired, and this conversation is venturing into territory better left unexplored. ”
He sighed, a sound that wasn’t his usual big brother sigh but something deeper, almost pained. But instead of leaving, he said, “At least let me help you dry off properly. You look about ready to collapse.”
I nearly choked on air. “What? No!” Smooth, real smooth.
“I mean, I appreciate the offer, but I’d rather not add ‘death by awkward brotherly care’ to my evening.
” Because having you touch me right now would be like throwing gasoline on a fire.
I’d combust, and then you’d have to explain to the others why there’s nothing left of me but a pile of ash and regrettable life choices.
“You can barely keep your eyes open,” he pointed out, his voice gentler than I deserved. His hand was still on my face, thumb brushing my cheekbone in a way that made my skin tingle. The contact felt electric, like his touch was awakening something beneath my skin that had been dormant until now.
“I can handle basic hygiene!” The words came out more plaintively than planned. “Contrary to current evidence, I did master the art of self-care. I’ve been successfully drying myself for years. It’s one of my few life skills.”
To prove my point, I jumped up like I’d been spring-loaded, determined to show him just how capable I was. And because the universe hates me with the burning passion of a thousand suns, my towel chose that exact moment to make its grand escape, pooling around my feet like abandoned dignity.
“Shit!”
I snatched the towel up faster than a squirrel with a prized nut, trying to cover my very obvious problem. My face felt hot enough to power a small city. Maybe the entire Eastern seaboard.
Perfect. Just perfect. Add this to the list of ‘Top 10 Most Mortifying Moments of My Life.’ Actually, make it top three. Right after the time I called my college professor ‘Dad’ and that incident with the chocolate fountain at Xander’s graduation party.
Jaxson stepped closer, and I suddenly found his feet fascinating.
Nice slippers. Very… slipper-like. Excellent fabric.
Quality stitching. I could write a dissertation on those house slippers if it meant not having to look up and face him.
Maybe focus on the subtle wear pattern on the left one or the way they perfectly complemented our apartment’s flooring.
His hand landed on my head, and I froze like a deer in headlights. The moment his fingers touched my hair, a wave of warmth spread from the contact point down my entire body, like he’d somehow flipped a switch that controlled my internal temperature. “So you can get a hard-on.”
Did he just…? Was that…? My brain short-circuited, unable to process the fact that Jaxson—perfect, responsible, big brother Jaxson—had just commented on my erection like he was remarking on the weather.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I swatted his hand away, embarrassment making me defensive. “Anyone would get one thinking about someone they love.”
Oh God, shut up, shut up, shut up. Just stop talking forever. Maybe become a mime. Mimes don’t say incriminating things about their feelings.
He chuckled, fingers threading through my hair again, the sound low and warm in a way that made my insides twist. His pupils were fully dilated now, the golden-amber of his eyes reduced to a thin ring around black depths. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Then he did something that short-circuited my brain. Those intense eyes looked at me, dark and hungry, and he asked, “Want some help?”
Error 404: Lan.exe has stopped working. Please reboot universe.
I stared at him, certain I’d misheard. Or hallucinated. Or maybe I’d actually drowned in the shower and this was some bizarre afterlife scenario designed to torture me for my sins. “W-what?”
Suddenly, he yanked the towel away with a confidence that left me gasping, and my brain finally rebooted enough to register what was happening.
There I was, standing in my birthday suit, a defector towel at my feet, and Jaxson—my god of a stepbrother—giving me a look that made my insides perform gymnastics that would qualify for the Olympics.
My brain was firing warning signals like a malfunctioning Christmas tree, but my body had apparently decided to go rogue and stay exactly where it was.
His eyes widened slightly, pupils dilating until there was just a thin ring of amber-gold around the black, like a solar eclipse made of forbidden attraction.
And yes, I was overthinking astronomical metaphors while standing naked in front of the man I’d been fantasizing about for years.
Perfectly normal coping mechanism. Five stars. Would recommend.
I fought the urge to cover myself. My body had always been the weird kid in the genetic playground—too smooth, too delicate, like someone had forgotten to check the “add masculine features” box when I was being assembled.
Where other guys had rugged hair patterns across their chests and legs that screamed “MANLY MAN DOING MANLY THINGS,” my skin remained stubbornly smooth.
And don’t get me started on my downstairs situation—practically hairless, like I’d remained permanently prepubescent in the most mortifying way possible.
Wei called it my “celestial peach” situation once, and I nearly drowned him in his precious artisanal coffee.
“I know I’m”—I gestured vaguely at my barren landscape—“defective in the testosterone department. You don’t have to stare like I’m some exotic zoo exhibit. ‘Come see the hairless wonder! Half-price tickets on Tuesday!’”
“Lan,” Jaxson breathed, and the way he said my name made the sarcasm die in my throat. There wasn’t disgust in his voice. There was… wonder? Like he’d discovered some priceless artifact instead of his genetically confused stepbrother. “You’re perfect.”
Perfect? Me? Either Jaxson needed immediate eye surgery or the definition of “perfect” had changed dramatically since the last time I checked.
“Sure, and I’m also secretly Batman. The costume fits better without body hair,” I quipped, but my voice cracked embarrassingly on the last word because his arm was suddenly wrapping around my neck, pulling me close enough to count his eyelashes, to see the flecks of gold in his hazel-amber eyes, to feel the warmth of his breath against my face.
No—not just warmth. Heat. It radiated from him like he was housing a personal furnace under his skin. My willpower waved a white flag, surrendering without a fight, probably while playing a tiny violin in the background.
“Lan,” he said, and the sound of my name on his lips made my pulse skip like a scratched record. There was something in his voice—a roughness, a hunger—that I’d never heard before. It sounded ancient and primal, like something awakening after a long sleep. “Is this your first time?”
I nodded mutely, my cheeks flaming. I was twenty-one, and my romantic experience was about as vast as the Sahara after a hundred-year drought. But I wasn’t about to admit that aloud. Though standing here trembling like a Chihuahua in a snowstorm probably gave me away.
“I can take care of it myself,” I managed to stammer out, trying to reclaim some semblance of dignity amid the chaos of my raging hormones.
“I’ve got two hands and a vivid imagination.
Been working just fine for years.” The words lacked conviction, even to my own ears.
I sounded about as convincing as Nico claiming he’d “only had one cookie.”
“It’s okay to let someone else take care of you,” he said softly, his voice deepening to something that seemed to resonate in my very bones. Then, with an ease that left me breathless, he pulled me into his arms and onto the bed.
What the actual—
My heart was tap-dancing on my ribs, and my brain was firing off every alarm it had.
This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening.
Yet there I was, sitting on Jaxson’s lap, naked as the day I was born, and he was holding me like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Like I belonged there. Like this was where I was meant to be all along.
My brain was a ticker tape parade of panic and ecstasy, mostly consisting of: ABORT MISSION.
ABORT. OH GOD, DON’T ABORT, THIS IS AMAZING. BUT SERIOUSLY, ABORT!
His gaze drifted over me darkly, taking in every inch of exposed skin with an intensity that made me shiver.
His eyes seemed to glow in the dim light, that strange amber-gold more pronounced than usual, almost luminescent in the darkness.
Was it a trick of the light, or were there actual flecks of gold dancing in his irises?
Maybe my brain was short-circuiting. Maybe I was hallucinating.
Maybe aliens had replaced Jaxson with a very attractive, very convincing replica that had LED eyes.
“You can stop looking at me like I’m an anatomical anomaly,” I muttered, fighting the urge to squirm. “I know I’m basically a naked mole rat in human form.”
“You have no idea how beautiful you are,” he replied, voice rough like gravel, ignoring my self-deprecation with infuriating ease.
His tone suggested he wasn’t just being nice—he meant it with the conviction of someone stating that water is wet or that Colt would organize his socks by color and fabric weight.