Chapter 28
Chapter twenty-eight
Izzy
It’s Thursday, which means I can officially only focus on one thing: spice coaching session two.
“Hey!” Jaxon calls as he walks into our house after knocking once.
I hurry out to the kitchen, just as Becca heads toward the door. “Good luck,” she whispers as she walks by, knocking her hip into mine.
I watch the door close behind her before finally forcing myself to focus on Jaxon. He’s wearing a pair of brown cowboy boots with dark jeans and a white T-shirt that stretches across chest muscles he’s clearly worked very hard on.
“Did you just check me out, Iz?” Jaxon asks as he puts a couple of to-go boxes in the fridge.
“Isabel,” I say half-heartedly. “And so what if I did? You worked hard to look that pretty. The least I can do is appreciate it.”
Jaxon laughs, and the warm, rich sound of it is like a siren’s call to my goddamn hormones.
“Are we not eating dinner?”
Jaxon shakes his head. “No. New day, new experiment.”
“Is it drinking heavily? Because I’m starting to think there might be some real merit to that strategy.” I smile at the look on his face. “Don’t look so disappointed. It might help me get out of my head.”
“I’ve got a different plan for that,” Jaxon says, heading into the living room. He pulls the curtains shut before turning off the light.
“Is your plan to murder me? Because, while it feels aggressive, I can see the logic. It might be the best option.”
“Okay, negative Nancy,” Jaxon says on a laugh. “Why don’t you tell me how you’re really feeling about tonight?”
“Since it feels like a less than fifty percent chance that I’ll actually have an orgasm, not great.”
“Why would you think those are your odds of orgasming?”
“We’ve said the word orgasm too many times for one night.”
“There’s no such thing as too many orgasms in one night, Izzy. It’s one of the many benefits of being a woman,” Jaxon says with a cocky smirk. “Or so I’ve been told, at least.”
I snort a laugh.
“But back to my original question,” he says. “Why would you think your chances of reaching bliss”—he sends me a smirk at the rephrase—“are so low?”
“Statistics. History.”
Jaxon just looks at me, giving me the space to say more.
I drop my head into my hands. “I’m broken. This is a me problem, not a them problem. So I don’t think it matters who I’m with.”
“You don’t know that. How many guys have you actually slept with?”
God. Could this get any more embarrassing? I mean, not that I’m ashamed of the number. It’s just…this whole situation.
“Four,” I say, deciding I’m already in too deep with Jaxon to hold back now. It’s not like telling him my past can be any more embarrassing than him watching me fail to come last week. “Four really nice guys. Who did try,” I say.
And they did. I haven’t always been this jaded about my sex life.
I may have been a bit old to lose my virginity at twenty-one, but I’d been raised with a healthy dose of realism about the odds of doing everything right with condoms and birth control and something still going wrong and ending up pregnant.
It was not a risk I was willing to take.
“I’ve never been one to date around,” I continue. “But I’ve always enjoyed being in long-term relationships, having someone to share my life with, but eventually, my lack of give-a-shit in bed would drive guys away.”
I sigh, struggling to make eye contact with Jaxon as I move into the most embarrassing part.
“It’s not my fault that my mind would wander when their tongues were between my legs or when they were giving it their all in a variety of positions.
It just…didn’t do anything for me. Eventually, we’d have quickies that were just for them, and turns out, that’s not the foundation for a great relationship.
Not that sex was the only thing that drove us apart.
In and out of the bedroom, all those relationships just lacked a… spark.”
“I’m sorry that was your experience, Iz,” Jaxon says. “And I’m not promising you anything except that I’m going to try. And if it happens, great. If it doesn’t, no worries. This is totally and completely about you.”
I know he’s sincere now, but I’ve heard that line before. Good guys want to make the person they’re sleeping with feel good. So, it’s tough for them too when I don’t.
Luckily, Jaxon won’t be around long enough to hit that stage.
Jaxon claps once, before he pulls two small candles out of his pocket. “So, my plan for today: I’m going to romance you.”
A laugh spills from my lips before I can stop it. “I’m sorry, you’re going to what?”
“Romance, Iz,” Jaxon says, lighting the candles. “Last time I was going for casual—just trying to get you used to me. But you’ve never been someone who does casual anything.”
“Wait, are you under the misconception that using toys—plural—in front of someone is casual? That is not casual. That’s like, six-months-into-a-relationship kind of thing.
And I would know. I’m super casual. Just look at my clothes,” I say, gesturing down before realizing I’m in a dress.
A very date-looking dress. Not my normal jeans or joggers and a shirt.
Jaxon nods. “Thank you for proving my point.”
“Wouldn’t dinner first add to the romance vibes?” I ask.
“Maybe.” He bites his lower lip as if considering it, and suddenly I feel a little bit bad about questioning his plan. It’s clear he’s put more thought into this than I have, so who am I to judge?
“We can eat now if you want to,” he says. “I don’t want you to be hungry. Shoot. I should’ve thought of that and grabbed a quick appetizer or something.”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say, reaching up and gently tugging on the strand of hair that hangs down in the middle of his forehead.
His eyes meet mine as I remember all the times I’d done that to him in our youth.
I smile. “I’m not that hungry anyway. Plus, this way we can get this part over with, and I won’t have to worry about it anymore. ”
Jaxon’s eyes meet mine, and his lip curls into a sad sort of smile. “This is supposed to be fun, Iz. Not something you worry about.”
“It was fun…for a few minutes.” My eyes run down his arms before snagging on the small looping tattoo on the inside of his left elbow. “What’s that?” I ask, nodding toward the flowing black ink.
“A tattoo.”
“Wow, thank you for that. What is it of?”
“I’m pretty sure it’s the Chinese symbol for fame and fortune,” Jaxon says, giving me a goofy smile.
“Well, it clearly worked,” I say. “Though, it seems just as likely that it’s the symbol for donkey or something like that. Did you fact-check it before they permanently put it on your body?”
“I’d rather not know at this point,” Jaxon says, starting some music on his phone before reaching toward me.
I stare blankly at his outstretched hand. “What are we doing?”
“Dancing.”
“I’m—”
“Come on, Iz,” Jaxon says, his hand still extended. “Dance with me.”
Right. I can do this.
So, against my better judgment, I grab the proffered hand, and Jaxon pulls me closer to him, his right hand slipping around me to rest on my lower back.
We slowly dance to the music, Jaxon singing along softly to the song as we dance around the room time and time again. By the third song, he and I are firmly pressed together, my heart pounding at the nearness.
The slow ballad comes to an end, and Jaxon slowly spins me out before pulling me back into him. My hand lands on his chest, our bodies impossibly closer now. Tilting my head back, I meet his dark chestnut-colored eyes as he focuses entirely on me.
It's an odd feeling, looking into a face I've seen at least a million times before, but seeing something completely different this time. He leans down, his lips hovering inches from mine, giving me the chance to stop this.
I know it’s just for our deal. It’s just to make sure I don’t stop hanging out with him now that he’s writing music again, but there is something about it that feels…real.
Panic courses through me. This cannot be real. Jaxon will leave again, and I will be left behind in Wild Bluffs until he decides he needs me again.
“I said no romantic kisses,” I whisper, my lips so close to brushing his that I can almost feel them as I speak.
He nods, not moving back. And it’s like I’m the moon, desperately trying to float away from something I’m constantly pulled toward.
I’m not sure if we sway there for minutes or hours or days, his face inches from my own, when suddenly I’m being lifted off my feet.
Letting out a squeak of surprise, I wrap my legs around Jaxon’s waist, groaning at the hardness of him pressing into my core.
“Fuck.” Jaxon’s curse is almost so soft I miss it. His obvious pleasure ignites something in me, and all I want to do is take this to the bedroom.
Fortunately, Jaxon is carrying me that direction, his long legs eating up the ground beneath us as if he’s unaffected by the extra weight.
My hands explore the hard ridges of his back and shoulders until Jaxon stops at the end of my bed. He sets me down lightly, pressing a gentle kiss on my forehead.
“No forehead kisses,” I scold, trying to regain control of my body.
“That wasn’t a rule,” he says, tipping my head to the side and kissing his way up my neck.
“Forehead kisses are romantic. The giver gets nothing but the joy of showing their love for someone. They’re the most romantic of kisses.” I look him in the eye. “I mean it, Jaxon.”
“Fine, Iz. No forehead kisses.” He pulls something black out of his back pocket. “Put this on.”
“Is that a sleeping mask?” I ask, taking the small bundle of fabric in my hand.
“Yeah. I think it’s worth a try. Some people are overstimulated, so cutting off one of their senses helps.”
He clicks a few buttons on his phone, and music starts playing. “In the same vein, someone online recommended music you aren’t super familiar with. It’s all about limiting the number of possible distractions from your brain so you can focus on you and what you’re feeling.”