Chapter 8 #5
Another mute nod. Apparently, my vocabulary had packed its bags and gone on vacation without leaving a forwarding address.
Words seemed inadequate anyway. What could I possibly say?
Thanks for the orgasm? Same time tomorrow?
By the way, I’m madly in love with you and have been for years?
Also, I think you may have broken something inside me because I still feel weirdly warm and connected to you?
He pulled away, and the loss of his warmth hit me like a physical blow, leaving me cold and suddenly aware of my nakedness in a way I hadn’t been before.
It wasn’t just the absence of his body heat—it was like something essential had been withdrawn, leaving me hollow and yearning.
I wanted to grab him, to beg him to stay, to curl up against his chest and pretend this wasn’t the most complicated thing we’d ever done.
But that would be crossing a line—because apparently, this hadn’t crossed enough lines already.
“Good night, Lan,” he said, his voice carefully controlled as he turned toward the door.
There was a tremor in it that I’d never heard before, a strain that suggested he was holding himself back from something.
His eyes, when they met mine one last time, were still strange and intense, the amber-gold seeming more pronounced in the dimness.
“Night, Jaxson,” I whispered to his retreating back, watching him disappear through my door with the same grace and confidence he did everything else. Show-off.
I flopped back onto my bed, staring at the ceiling as reality started creeping back in.
Well. That happened. My stupidly gorgeous stepbrother just gave me a hand job.
The man I’d been in love with for years just…
yeah. And now he was gone, leaving me with a head full of questions and a heart full of confusion.
Life really should come with warning labels: “Caution: Stepbrother’s touch may cause temporary insanity and lingering warmth in unexpected places. ”
My brain started helpfully replaying every moment in vivid detail, like some sort of X-rated highlight reel.
Thanks, brain. Really helpful. Maybe we could also replay that time I called my professor ‘Dad’ in front of the entire class?
The careful way he’d touched me, like I might break.
The controlled rhythm of his breathing, like he was holding himself back.
The almost-kiss that I hadn’t been brave enough to complete.
The way he’d called me beautiful, perfect—called my freakishly smooth body perfect, like it was a feature, not a bug. Mine, he’d said. What did that mean?
And that strange warmth—it was still there, a gentle hum in my chest that hadn’t faded even minutes later.
I pressed my palm against my sternum, feeling my heartbeat beneath it, steady but somehow different.
It had felt so real, so visceral—like something ancient and profound had awakened between us.
But that was crazy, right? It was just intense pleasure, just the afterglow of the best orgasm of my life.
That was the logical explanation. The only explanation.
Maybe I should cut back on my afternoon anime binges. They’re clearly rotting my brain.
Yet even now, I could feel something different inside me—that warmth that hadn’t been there before, a sense of connection that persisted even with Jaxson in another room. It was as if some dormant part of me had finally awakened, and now that it was conscious, it couldn’t be put back to sleep.
Tomorrow was going to be interesting. And by interesting, I meant absolutely mortifying.
How was I supposed to look him in the eye over breakfast?
Hey, thanks for the orgasm, can you pass the coffee?
Oh, and by the way, do you also feel weirdly warm inside, or is that just me being weird?
Also, what are your thoughts on my complete lack of body hair? Just curious.
I grabbed my pillow and screamed into it, wondering if it was possible to die of embarrassment, arousal, and existential crisis at the same time. At least if I spontaneously combusted, I wouldn’t have to face him at breakfast.
But a tiny, traitorous part of me was already wondering if this would happen again.
Because apparently, one earth-shattering orgasm wasn’t enough to satisfy my Jaxson addiction.
And I hadn’t missed the evidence that he wasn’t entirely unmoved by what had happened between us.
But that didn’t mean he felt the same way I did.
It was probably just a physical reaction—any guy would get hard in that situation, right?
Oh sure, perfectly normal to get turned on while handling your bizarrely smooth stepbrother. Happens to everyone.
Mine, he’d said. Those four letters played on repeat in my mind, a dangerous hope taking root. Maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t one-sided. Maybe he felt something too. Maybe that strange warmth in my chest meant something.
I shook my head, trying to dislodge the thought before it could fully form.
Hope was a dangerous thing. Especially when it came to Jaxson.
I couldn’t afford to read too much into this, couldn’t let myself believe it meant more than it did.
That way lay heartbreak and ruin and probably a lifetime of awkward family dinners.
But as I drifted toward sleep, my body still humming with the aftereffects of his touch and that peculiar warmth still glowing in my chest, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted between us.
Something ancient and inevitable, like pieces of a cosmic puzzle finally clicking into place.
Like our souls recognizing each other across the void.
God, I am so screwed.
And not even in the fun way.