12. Chapter Twelve
Maddison
S unlight streams beneath the closed curtains, lighting the room with the rising sun. I struggle to blink my heavy-lidded eyes open as I burrow my face further into the soft pillow beneath me. A heavy weight lays across my waist, and the blankets I’m cocooned in give the atmosphere a comforting feeling. I’m not sure why, but…I feel safe and protected in a way that I haven’t since my parents died.
Then I remember.
My car sliding over the icy roads and into an embankment.
My panic attack.
Jax’s soothing voice that calmed my over-fraught nerves.
Did I really sleep in his embrace last night? Peering down, I observe Jax’s arm as it rises and falls with my steady breathing. There’s something about being encased in arms that exude natural strength that has my belly doing a backflip. I gingerly reach out to trace a bluish vein with my finger. Behind me, his light breath feathers against the back of my neck.
He grumbles something incoherent in his sleep before shifting his hips a fraction. I suck in a shallow breath, my entire body freezing when his morning erection grazes against my ass. My nipples tighten under his shirt, and I swallow hard. I’m reminded of how good it felt to have his thick cock grind against me in the laundry room the other day. And for just a fraction of a second, I wonder if it would be bad to push my ass back into his groin.
If Luke finds out, he’ll never forgive Jax. It will destroy their relationship, and it’ll be my fault.
The thought cools my rising libido as frustration and disappointment take root inside me. Jax and I have been dancing around our attraction to each other for some time now, and last night felt like it pushed us a little bit closer. Now when I think about him, I get a rush of endorphins straight to the brain. It’s not just lust anymore…It’s become more than that.
But Jax would never jeopardize his relationship with his brother, and I can’t say I blame him. I also don’t particularly want to hurt Luke, not even after the way things ended between us. Despite how much it hurt me, I know Luke’s mishap with that girl was a mistake. And while I would never take him back, I don’t want to further tarnish our good memories in a quest for what would look like petty revenge. He would never understand that my being with Jax isn’t about revenge, would he?
Should I even be feeling this way about someone right now? Isn’t it a little soon?
With an annoyed huff, I gently lift Jax’s arm and move it off me. Then I slowly slide my legs over the side of the bed before standing. A brief glance over my shoulder confirms he’s still asleep. Making sure to keep quiet, I tiptoe towards the bedroom door. The hinges creak as I open it, and I wince.
“Where are you going?”
I jump at the sound of Jax’s gravelly, sleep-addled voice before spinning around. Something inside me clenches at the sound of his voice, and I resist the urge to rub my thighs together. He studies me, his face marred with a frown as he rubs the back of a knuckle against his eye.
“I need to take a shower and get dressed,” I murmur, shifting on my feet.
Something snags his attention, causing his jaw to clench. His eyes darken, and I look down. My nipples are so hard that their outline is clearly visible against the white cotton of his shirt. Of course they are. Heat rushes across my cheeks, and I fold my arms in front of me. Jax smirks, not looking at all apologetic for having been caught.
This man doesn’t possess even an ounce of shame.
“I’ll return your clothes to you later,” I say, studiously ignoring the trickle of arousal between my legs. “Thanks for letting me borrow them.”
He shrugs, his tongue peeking out at the corner of his lip. “Keep them. They look good on you.” The words are sensual, stoking the fire inside me higher. What happened to the perpetually silent, grouchy man who used to barely acknowledge me?
“I’ll make us breakfast while you’re in the shower,” he says, a knowing smirk pulling on his lips. “How does a ham and cheese omelet with a side of bacon sound?”
My stomach chooses that moment to rumble, and Jax chuckles. I offer him a sheepish grin. “Do I also get coffee?”
He gives me an incredulous look. “What kind of monster do you think I am? Of course.”
Shaking my head, I laugh before slipping out of his bedroom and into the shower. The warm water feels so good pelting against my back that I close my eyes and moan. I squirt a handful of soap onto my loofah, my thoughts wandering back to the feeling of his erection pressed against me this morning.
I wonder what he would have done if I had wrapped my hand around his cock. What if I had turned around and thrown my leg over his hips? Would he have woken up and ground his erection against me? Slipped his fingers under the waistband of my borrowed sweatpants to find out if I was wet?
The loofah tumbles out of my hands and lands on the shower floor beneath me. The white, sudsy soap swirls around my feet before sliding down the drain. I make no move to pick it back up. Instead, I let my fingers trail down my breasts, where I lightly scrape my fingernails around my pebbled nipples. After a few minutes, when I can’t ignore the light throbbing of my clit anymore, my hand glides down my belly and between my thighs.
A quiet hiss escapes me at the first brush of my fingers against my slippery clit. I pretend that it’s Jax’s fingers doing all the work. His warm, naked body is pressed against mine as his arm snakes around my front to dip between my legs. His index finger strokes around my clit in teasing circles, and I buck my hips.
“Jax, please.”
His throaty chuckle against my ear is deviant and wicked. The sound sends a wave of tingles down my spine, and I lean back against him with a demanding whimper.
“You’re being such a good girl for me, Maddie.”
“Oh god,” I gasp the words, my breathing coming out a little faster as my fingers speed up. A low, simmering heat gathers in my belly. With each stroke against my throbbing clit, it grows. Biting my bottom lip, I stifle back a moan. The exquisite pleasure continues to build and build…
In no time at all, my pleasure reaches its crescendo and my pussy clenches as my climax washes over me. My mouth falls open on a silent cry as I ride the waves. My eyes pop back open, my hands still between my legs as my pounding heart slows back to normal. From downstairs comes the faint clatter of a frying pan as it tumbles to the tiled floor.
Even though the water is turning cool, I’m reluctant to get out and dry off. Part of me wants to stay inside my little fantasy, the one I just created where being with Jax won’t hurt anybody else. It won’t pull apart a family, destroy what’s left of a friendship, or make the entire town stare at us with their silent judgment.
But I want him—the real him—in a way I never have before.
“I’m so fucked.”
After running a towel over my wet hair, I decide to let it air dry. It’s not like the snow is going to melt enough to leave the house today anyway, right? Shrugging, I slide my brush through the tangled strands and don my own clothes again. Then I pull on my favorite t-shirt—a worn gray shirt that says ‘Crestwood Heights University’—and a pair of soft, leopard print joggers.
Peering out my bedroom window, I pause at the piles of snow blanketing the yard. Something about the wintry landscape makes the world feel radio silent. It’s impossible to guess from here, but it looks like we got at least three feet. Other than a few tire tracks in the driveway, it’s completely undisturbed. The fluffy clouds overhead block out the sunlight, while the branches of the nearby trees sag from the weight of its accumulation. Alongside the house, icicles adorn the edges of the gutters.
I tense, waiting for the inevitable panic to consume me. For my heart to begin racing and my breaths to stutter. For my mind to conjure up images of that wretched day.
Only…it doesn’t come.
I blink, remembering again how Jax came to my rescue last night. How tenderly he took care of me and how utterly safe I felt. Maybe something inside me healed a little bit when I had my own accident and nothing bad happened. When I let him help me through my panic attack and take care of me afterwards.
The corners of my lips tug into a smile at the thought.
I’m not naive enough to think that the sight of snow will never incite panic again, but it feels damn good to stare at it now and not be overwhelmed with the urge to cower.
“Breakfast is ready!”
Jax’s voice yelling at me from the kitchen pulls me from my thoughts, along with the gurgles of the coffee pot. Still feeling relaxed after my shower, I slowly make my way into the kitchen where a plated omelet awaits me. Pouring a cup of coffee, I carefully balance both and move towards the table. My feet pause as sounds from the living room TV reach my ears. I nibble on my bottom lip, warring with my indecision. Should I join him? Would he even want me to? Is spending more time with him asking for trouble?
The sound of his soft chuckle makes my decision for me, and I move into the living room. Jax’s head pops up as I approach, and his smile slips. The heated, appraising look he gives me has a shiver racing down my spine. I ignore it.
“Can I sit with you?” I shuffle awkwardly, resisting the urge to cringe. God, how stupid and needy did that sound? Did I just say “can I sit with you?” like a hormonal teenager pining after her crush in the school cafeteria?
He smiles softly, giving me an affectionate look before jerking his chin toward the empty spot next to him. His lips wrap around the edge of his coffee mug, his throat working as he swallows. One arm is thrown along the back of the couch, his knees spread apart. I swallow, heat infusing my cheeks as those emerald irises’ casually study me from the corner of his eye.
I clear my throat. “What are you watching?”
He rubs the back of his neck, his attention returning to the TV as the pet food commercial transitions back into the show Love it or List it .
My fingers tighten their grip on my fork, my eyes darting towards the TV. Nostalgia washes over me at the familiar sight of Hilary Farr and David Visentin, the best friend duo who compete against each other on the HGTV reality show. David, a realtor, attempts to find unhappy homeowners a more suitable house on the market while Hilary, an interior designer, attempts to spruce their home up so that the couple won’t want to leave. Heat tickles the corners of my eyes, and I rapidly blink away the impending tears.
Not right now, Maddie. Don’t ruin the moment.
“Maddie?” The concern in Jax’s voice has my gaze snapping towards him as he leans forward with furrowed brows. “What’s wrong?”
I shake my head, giving him a watery smile before turning back towards the screen. “It’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
“If it upsets you, then it’s not nothing.”
Why does that make something warm spread through my chest?
“My parents used to watch this show all the time,” I admit.
“Shit. I’m sorry.” Jax’s hand reaches for the remote, only for it to tumble out of his grasp. He manages to catch it mid-air before it slips again. This time, it lands on the carpeted floor. The battery cover pops off, and two batteries roll out. A giggle escapes me, and he gives me a sheepish grin. Then his lips are tugging down, and he’s scrambling towards the remote. “I’ll change the channel.”
“No, don’t,” I protest. “It’s fine. I like this show.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, it just caught me by surprise, that’s all.”
Jax nods once, relaxing back into the couch as the TV drones on. With that settled, I finally take the first bite of my omelet. A throaty moan slips out of me as the flavor of the decadent cheese bursts across my taste buds. Jax inhales sharply, his fingers clenching into a fist as he stares straight ahead.
“Maddie,” he warns me, his voice a deep rumble.
Heat sweeps through my belly, my heart giving a painful thump. And now I’m thinking about the almost-kiss in the laundry room again. The hungry look in his eyes as he fingered my bra, and the dirty words he growled into my ear. His lips had been so close to mine I could feel his breath ghosting across my skin, and I had been seconds away from giving into the temptation to lift my chin and brush my mouth against his. Shifting on my seat, I ignore the low buzz of arousal sweeping through me as I continue chewing.
Change the subject before you beg him to kiss you.
“My mom used to refurbish old furniture, and my dad made wood furniture,” I blurt out.
His fist relaxes, his fingers uncurling. “Oh, yeah?”
I nod towards the TV screen, watching absentmindedly as Hilary directs a pair of men dressed in denim overalls as they carry a desk between them. “Stuff like that,” I explain lamely. “Desks, chairs, dressers, headboards. Anything, really.”
“That’s a really handy skill to have. Did they teach you, too?”
“Yeah.” I clear my throat again, that pesky lump reforming. “But I haven’t created anything in a long time…” This is a part of myself that I haven’t shared with anyone since their deaths, not even Luke. Sometimes, it feels like something special that’s just between the three of us—my parents and me—so I’m not sure if I’m ready to share this yet. I decide to change the subject instead. “We used to make friendly wages when we watched this show.” I waggle my eyebrows.
He tilts his head towards me, his eyes lighting up with interest. “And how did that work?”
“We would bet on whether we thought the homeowners would keep their home or decide to sell it.”
He hums thoughtfully. “So basically, you are betting for Hilary or David?” he asks, referring to their on-screen competition. If Hilary can improve their home enough to entice the owners to stay, she becomes the winner. On the other hand, if David can find the perfect house and convince them to buy it, then he is declared the winner.
“Exactly.”
He strokes his chin, a smirk pulling on his lips. “That’s easy. Hilary is the clear winner here.”
I snort. “No way. Did you not see the four-bedroom ranch-style home that David showed them?”
He gestures towards the TV. “She’s building them a pergola.”
“So? Have you seen how cramped their kitchen is? Their budget isn’t big enough to remodel it.”
“It’s a pergola,” he insists.
“Didn’t know you loved pergolas so much.” Pulling my coffee mug towards me, I take a sip to hide my amusement.
“It would be the perfect place for a hot tub,” he mutters, his tone petulant now. I sputter, choking on my coffee. His lips twitch as I cough and struggle to clear my throat. “Fine, then let’s bet on it. If I’m right, and Hillary wins, you have to clean up the breakfast dishes.”
I pretend to mull it over, not wanting to admit that I had already planned on doing clean-up duty anyway. “Then if I win, I want a foot massage,” I declare. Jax’s eyes widen slightly, his gaze darting down to my feet where the green polish on my toenails sparkle. I make a show of wiggling my toes.
“Deal,” he says quickly.
Thirty minutes later, I’m pushing my bare feet into his lap. Jax is muttering about pergolas and lost opportunities under his breath, and I’m unable to hold my laughter in. My amusement fades as his rough, calloused fingers dig into my muscles. And I can’t help but notice the way he grows quiet as he works along the soles of my feet, or the slight jut of his bottom lip as he concentrates on his task. Nor do I miss the mischievous glint in his eyes as the massage lingers a little bit longer than strictly necessary and the fact that he doesn’t seem to be displeased by the turn of events at all.
Luckily, I have the next two days off work because the skies dump more snow through the valley than expected. And because I really don’t want to drive in it again, I’m effectively trapped in Jax’s house. But honestly, I don’t mind. I’m actually relishing the extra time alone with him. Something has definitely shifted between us. Although he doesn’t try to touch me again, he’s more… attentive. Less surly.
We pass the time by lounging on the couch with a mountain of blankets and cups of steaming hot chocolate while Hallmark movies play on the TV. During commercial breaks, we share happy memories from our childhood or speculate about who’s hooking up with who around town. I tell him what my parents were like, and he tells me what it was like to raise an eleven-year-old Luke. My heart hurts for him to hear how much pressure he felt after suddenly becoming his guardian at the age of twenty-one. When we aren’t watching movies, we’re hanging around the kitchen cooking together or drinking wine.
On the second evening, he shrugs on a thick coat and gloves to clear snow off the porch and sidewalk. When I bundle up into some warm clothes of my own, he sends me a reproachful look and practically growls at me to stay inside where it’s warm. I scoff at him before bopping him on the nose and racing outside. He gives chase, wrapping his arms around my waist and tackling me to the ground. That somehow evolves into a snowball fight. We laugh until our bellies ache, our eyes prickling with tears of mirth.
When I finally go to bed that night, I’m floating on cloud nine. Even when things were good between Luke and me, it was never this good. But despite having so much alone time, neither one of us makes a move on the other. There’s plenty of tension in the air between us—heated looks and bated breaths—but we don’t touch each other.
It’s for the best.
On the third morning, I hum a light-hearted tune as I bound down the staircase. The tip-tap of my heels catches Jax’s attention as I walk into the kitchen, and he frowns at my feet.
“Good morning,” I chime. “Something sure does smell good.” My mouth practically waters as I eyeball the two plates of fried ham, scrambled eggs, and toast. The smokey, salty scent of the ham lingers in the air, and my stomach lets out a needy growl. I bypass him to make a pot of coffee while he sets our plates on the kitchen table.
“Good morning.” It doesn’t sound particularly enthusiastic.
“What’s wrong? Not ready to return to real life?” Underneath the table, I playfully kick at his shin. But I get no response. My brows knit together as I tilt my head.
He eyes my work outfit before pointing a fork at me. “You’ll need to call out today. It’s not safe for you to drive yet, and I don’t have time to take you before I open my shop.”
“What? I thought the roads were mostly clear now.” I pull out my phone, my fingers tapping on my local weather app.
He shrugs before shoveling another mouthful of food past his lips. “The county didn’t do a very good job of clearing the roads. Temperatures dropped below freezing again last night, and there are still some icy spots.”
“Oh.” A sinking sensation lands in my stomach as I stare down at my food, half-heartedly pushing it around with my fork. “Well, I can’t call in. Irene is really strict about that sort of thing, so I think it’s best if I go.” My anxiety spikes at the thought of driving. When there’s a long pause of silence between us, I peer up to find his mouth set in a hard line.
“You will not be driving today.” His low, gravelly voice takes on that authoritative edge, the one that sends shivers down my spine. Part of me wants to melt onto the floor and roll belly-up.
To obey.
Wait. What the hell did he say?
“Excuse me?” I narrow my eyes, my fingers tightening on my fork.
The bastard has the audacity to smirk. “You heard me the first time.”
I suck in a sharp, stilted breath. A low heat pulses through my veins, my heart rate spiking. I give into my rising irritation, my fork clattering to the table as I purse my lips. “You are not my boss.”
Scooting back from the table, I’m more determined than ever to go to work now. Marching over to the trash can, I scrape the rest of my food into it before placing the empty dish into the dishwasher.
“You could sure fucking use one,” he mutters dryly, scraping the last of his food off the plate and into his mouth.
My eyebrows shoot up. “What the hell has gotten into you this morning? If you think I’m going to do something just because you told me to, then you have a wake-up call coming your way.”
His derisive laughter only serves to further spike my anger. “Sweetheart, I’m not messing around when it comes to your safety.” He leans back in his chair, two arms resting casually along the table as he gives me a challenging stare. “And I don’t care who I have to piss off. Neither you nor Irene Johnson scare me.”
My mouth drops open. “You are—I’m—” My face heats, and I’m fuming now. His lips quirk into an infuriatingly sexy smirk. “You think you can keep me here?” I give him a challenging look.
His answer is immediate. “I know I can.”
“We’ll see about that,” I snap. My fingers curl around the car keys sitting on the kitchen island, holding them up and letting them dangle from my finger where he can see.
Jax heaves out a long-suffering sigh, and he rolls his eyes. “Don’t bite off your own nose just to spite me, Maddie.”
I give him a falsely sweet smile, fluttering my lashes at him. His mouth twitches. He thinks this is funny. He’s getting some sick sense of amusement out of this.
“You are an arrogant, conceited asshat.”
He arches his eyebrow in an expression that says “and the problem is?”
Making long strides towards the doorway, I grab the coat off the nearby hook and jam my arms into the sleeves before zipping it up. My heart beats a little faster and I tense, watching him as I ready myself to leave. Any second, I’m expecting him to leap up and do something crazy. Like throw me over his shoulder or block the doorway with his much stronger body.
But he doesn’t do anything. He merely watches me with a knowing expression. There’s a twinkle in his eyes, his lips curling with amusement. I pull the front door open, pausing in the doorway to glance over my shoulder at him.
Still, he remains seated. He nods towards the doorway, giving me an expectant look. Is he calling my bluff? Because I will go. I’m not calling out of work, missing a day’s worth of pay, and listening to Irene bitch me out. Huffing, I slam the door shut behind me and stomp down the porch steps.
“Idiot.” I throw my car door open and sink down into the driver’s seat. “He probably just wanted to piss me off. It’s like a damn sport for him.” Pulling my keys out of my pocket, I put them into the ignition. “For someone who was so determined to keep me home, he sure isn’t doing shit now, is he?” I smirk as I turn the key in the ignition.
And nothing happens. I pause.
“What the hell?”
I turn the key in the ignition again. And again.
Nothing.
My head snaps towards the front door, realization dawning on me. I release a closed-mouth scream, pounding a closed fist on the steering wheel once.
“That fucker!” How dare he?
Yanking my keys out of the ignition, I keep my head held high as I storm back inside. The door slams behind me, and I stand in the entryway with my arms crossed over my chest. My eyes narrow. The smug bastard is still sitting in the same spot, looking rather pleased with himself.
“Did you do something to my car?”
“Who? Me?” His gaze takes a dramatic sweep around the room before pointing his finger at his own chest.
“Fix it right now,” I snap. “I have to get to work.”
He shrugs. “Sorry, no can do. I need to open my shop.” Standing up, he takes his plate to the dishwasher.
“Jax, don’t you dare leave without fixing my car.”
He winks at me, whistling a tune under his breath as he puts his coat on.
“Jax!” I hiss. “I swear on everything you love—”
He clucks his tongue at me, reaching up once to tweak my nose. I bat at his hand, and he chuckles.
“Behave,” he admonishes, his overly cheerful tone grating on my nerves.
“Jax,” I begin to warn him. “I’m not playing—”
The door slams in my face and I silently fume as he bounds down the front porch.
“—around.”
Throwing the front door open, I ignore the rush of chilly air as I call out his name. He continues walking towards his shop, only slowing to glance over his shoulder. I flip him the bird, and he throws his head back with a booming laugh. I’m glad he doesn’t notice the reluctant twitch of my lips.
So, I stay home for a third day, and I decide I don’t hate it.