Chapter 18
TAYLOR
I surface slowly, drifting between sleep and something sweeter. Ax’s scent teases at my nose – warm, woody, sinful – and I smile into the pillow. God, he smells delicious. Comforting in a way I don’t want to unpack.
I love dreams like this: the kind that feel so real, you could live in them. Let the nightmares take a running leap; give me fantasies involving this man any day of the week.
My fingers flex… and something twitches in my grasp.
Something real.
Something hard.
Something entirely male.
My eyes fly open.
‘Morning, Baby Girl.’
‘Holy shit!’
I shoot upright, snatching my hand back, and gawp at him sprawled out beside me.
‘Not quite the good morning I was expecting,’ he murmurs.
‘I— We— You—’
‘You turned up, we had sex, I let you stay.’ He lifts a brow. ‘That about fill in the blanks?’
His eyes are laughing, his posture easy, completely unbothered. Like we’ve done this before: woken up together, spent the night. Only we haven’t. And his… yeah, that’s definitely not relaxed.
I swallow, clutching my burning hand like it might erase the grope I just stole. Not that I’m embarrassed. I’m… I don’t actually know what I am.
‘You also gave me a morning stroke,’ he adds. ‘But just so we’re clear, that was all you.’
Heat flashes through me. Eyes blinking as I drink him in. He’s gorgeous like this: cheeks warm, eyes soft, hair askew. Too sexy for this hour. Or maybe it’s the strange vulnerability of waking up together that does it.
Whatever the case, I like it. I like it a lot.
No mask, no layers. Just—
Us?
‘And before you start on about boundaries,’ he says, ‘can I remind you that you came to me and—’
I cut him off with a kiss, climbing into his lap before he can finish. ‘Sleeping over was your boundary.’
‘And does it feel like I’m complaining?’
I laugh against his mouth, the sound catching as he grips my hips and grinds me against his hardened length.
‘No,’ I gasp out, heady little tremors firing through my core.
‘I can’t get enough of you,’ he groans.
‘You and me both.’
And I mean every word as I line him up exactly where I want him and sink down, claiming him whole. I rock my hips, my head tipping back while his hands knead my breasts – fingers circling, pinching, tugging – until I’m shaking, breathless, seconds from combusting.
‘Taylor!’
It tears from his lips as his body tenses beneath me – neck corded, muscles locking. No, I’ll never get enough of this. My name on his lips when he crumbles, so beautifully, so completely.
I cling to sanity just long enough to capture it all, then give myself over to the pleasure – eyes squeezed shut, body arched back, pulse after pulse rolling through me – until I finally collapse forward against his chest. Our hearts hammering together.
‘Now that’s a wake-up call I could get used to,’ he murmurs.
And I know he’s just saying it – a flippant remark, not meant to mean anything – but my heart reaches for it, greedy anyway.
‘Yeah,’ I whisper.
‘So…’ he says low, ‘about those boundaries?’
I fight to keep my body relaxed. ‘How about we just agree to stick to what feels good?’
He huffs a laugh. ‘Pretty sure we just proved we’re naturals at that.’
‘I just don’t want to overthink it,’ I say quickly, already afraid that I am.
His head tilts my way, eyes narrowing. ‘Who are you, and what have you done with Taylor Stone?’
I shrug, forcing a lightness I’m struggling to feel. ‘I read somewhere that stress is bad for fertility.’
‘Stress is bad, full stop.’
‘And overthinking isn’t conducive to baby-making.’
‘Explains half the world’s accidents…’
‘You know what I mean.’ I give him a shove, keeping my voice breezy, when all I really want is for this new level of intimacy to continue. ‘Stressing about rules is a waste of energy.’
‘You don’t need to tell me twice.’
‘Good.’
I search his gaze, bracing for signs I’ve overstepped – with this, with staying over, the memory of that first night in Italy rearing its ugly head – but I find none.
He looks relaxed. Content. Happy, even.
It’s like falling apart last night and coming back together again shifted something between us – altered the dynamic, opened up a bond that didn’t exist before.
And now I know I’m talking crazy. Dynamics? Bonds? Morning sex has clearly gone to my head. Or maybe that’s my heart.
‘Still,’ I add softly, determined to keep my feet on the ground, ‘if you ever want space, or something’s off, just tell me.’
‘That swings both ways, Baby Girl.’
I nod. ‘Agreed.’
Though space is the last thing I crave…
‘Now that’s settled… breakfast?’ He stretches out beneath me, every muscle flexing distractingly. ‘Coffee and a protein shake. And if you’re really lucky, I’ll let you lick the foam off the lid.’
I bark a laugh. ‘Your cupboards are as bare as your home, then?’
‘Are you insulting my home?’
Before I can answer, he’s on me, hands everywhere all at once, tickling me. Axel. Tickling me?!
I squeal, laughing, trying to fight him off. ‘Stop-it-stop-it-stop-it—!’
‘Bet you wish you had a safe word now.’ He smirks, pinning my hands above my head, eyes glittering down at me.
There’s so much I want to read in those rich brown eyes that it takes me a second to draw a breath – another to say, ‘No.’
He stills. Just for a beat. Something flickering in his gaze. Then he’s rolling off me.
‘Come on,’ he says, swatting my arse. ‘Shower. Then I’ll see what I can scrape together.’
I quickly learn shower is code for oral, because the moment I step under the spray, he has me pressed to the black stone tiles, steam curling around us as his mouth claims me. His tongue like a power tool, and I can’t catch a breath.
My climax echoes off the walls, and he chuckles against my skin.
‘That’s my girl.’
Then he’s up and in me, driving home with the urgency of a man possessed – and so long as I’m the one possessing him, I’m more than fine with it.
By the time he slides me a coffee over the polished concrete island in his kitchen, it’s nearly noon, and I can’t stop smiling.
‘What’s that grin about?’ he asks.
‘I made a bet with myself driving here.’
‘Oh yeah?’
‘I bet your place would still look as sparse as the year you moved in.’
‘You wanna die on that hill again?’ He laughs and the sound dances through me. I want to hear him laugh more. So much more. ‘Some of us don’t need a thousand cushions to make a place feel lived in.’
‘No, but a throw might be nice. Something soft and cosy.’
His eyes narrow. ‘You trying to soften me up?’
‘Maybe.’
‘Only maybe?’
Okay, I definitely am, and it doesn’t take a genius to work out why.
Ax has never known soft.
He’s lived his life building walls, staying strong, needing them to survive.
But I want him to know soft. I want to be soft for him.
Me. Taylor Stone. The woman known for having a heart to match the name.
I laugh at my own absurdity, but it doesn’t make it any less true.
‘Your laugh incriminates you,’ he says.
‘Does it?’
‘Yeah.’
He steps between my thighs, and I hook my legs around him.
‘So what are you going do about it?’ I ask, lifting my chin to hold his gaze.
‘I can think of plenty…’
‘All filthy, I’m sure…’ I say, reading the wild look in his eye and feeling its promise to my toes. ‘But—’ I press a finger to his mouth before he can kiss me. ‘Hold it.’
His brows lift as he traps my digit between his teeth.
I purse my lips. ‘I said hold it.’
‘I did.’
I shake my head. ‘You’re incorrigible.’
‘So they say… but go on, shoot; what is it you want to say?’
‘How about we do something together today?’
‘Did you miss the bit where I said my head was racing with all the things…?’
‘I mean, something outdoors, fully clothed, together.’
He frowns, taking up his mug for a swig. ‘Like what?’
‘I don’t know, something normal that people like to do on their days off.’
Because I don’t feel like working today. Strange, but true. I glance at the sun pouring through the giant steel-framed windows. ‘It looks like it’s going to be a gorgeous day; why don’t we take a picnic to Hyde Park?’
He spits his coffee. ‘Did you seriously just ask me to go for a picnic in the park?’
I shrug. ‘Theo and Sadie seem to like it well enough.’
‘When was the last time you had a meal out that didn’t involve a high-end restaurant?’
‘A woman can change.’
And he only knows the half of it.
He cups my cheek as he stares down into my eyes. ‘But you’ve been the same forever. And yet… this past year since Sadie returned, this past month, this past day even, you keep surprising me.’
‘Is that bad?’
‘No,’ he says softly. ‘It’s dangerous.’
And I don’t have time to question what he means, to ponder it, because he’s there, kissing me. Slow and deep. And the butterflies return, beating against my ribs.
‘Though I am worried,’ he murmurs against my lips, and my entire body tenses.
‘Worried?’
‘That you may have hit your head flooring that McLaren last night, because a picnic in the park… so left field.’
‘Fine!’ I huff, all flustered, and shoving him away. ‘If you don’t wanna go, then—’
‘Oh, we’re going,’ he says, already moving off. ‘If only to see you sit that pretty arse on the grass.’
I laugh abruptly. ‘You’re maddening, you know that, right?!’
‘You love me really.’
My heart stalls.
Fuck.
I do.
I’m not just falling.
I’m already gone – head-over-heels, helplessly, catastrophically in love with him.
And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.
Except follow my own mantra:
Do what feels good.
Don’t overthink it.
Take what he gives.
Don’t scare him away.
And everything will be okay.
Because the alternative isn’t an option.
Axel
Doing normal things with Tay feels abnormal in every way.
Not bad. Just… different.
Maybe it’s because Theo’s not here.
Maybe it’s because this version of us is unfamiliar territory.
Maybe it’s because the boundaries she – or we – laid down weeks ago don’t seem to have a voice any more.
Either way, I don’t hate it.
Hyde Park stretches out around us in the late-afternoon sun: grass rolling in the breeze, oak trees throwing long shadows, families and joggers drifting past like we’re part of the everyday scene. All normal.
We would’ve got here earlier, but she dragged me through a street market first, hopping from stall to stall until she spotted a red-and-cream picnic blanket.
‘Really?’ I’d said, holding it up. ‘This one?’
She’d shrugged, smiling. ‘It’s soft. It’s big. And it won’t ruin that sweet little tush of yours.’
I’d blinked at her. ‘My sweet little tush?’
She’d laughed, hazel eyes dancing so bright, I would’ve bought her the entire damn stall. ‘Just buy it.’
So here we are. In the shade of a tree, that exact blanket spread beneath us, a feast she curated like it mattered all laid out before us, and all I really care about is her. How she tastes. How she feels. How she sounds.
We eat.
We talk.
She leans into my side without thinking about it. Kisses my cheek just to steal the last grape. Laughs when pigeons swarm like we’re offering up our souls and they ain’t fussy.
She’s different like this. Softer. Warmer. Open in a way I’ve never known her to be. And it hits me clean in the chest: I really could get used to this. All of it.
Waking up with her tangled in my sheets.
Shooting the breeze over coffee.
Cutting through the city with her body locked to mine on the bike.
Even picnics in the park, with her exactly like this.
Her? What about you? It takes two to play the happy little couple…
I sink back against the trunk of the tree, and she shifts with me, her head coming to rest in my lap, her eyes smiling up at me.
And damn if mine ain’t smiling right back.
Yeah, I’m in deep.
Way past the line I swore I wouldn’t cross.
But I’m done running.
I’m doing exactly what she said.
Sticking to what feels good.
And right now, that’s her.
Every which way she fits.