Chapter 15 Jaxon
Jaxon
The barista walks away with our order, and Ruby sits across from me with her shoulders tight, her fingers wrapped around the edge of the table like she’s bracing for impact.
She should be.
Because I’m done being careful.
Not reckless.
Not disrespectful.
Just done pretending the tension between us is something we can smother politely.
I watch her for a moment, really watch her, the way her eyes flick anywhere but mine, the way her chest rises a little faster when I lean forward, the way she licks her lips without realizing it.
She feels this.
She feels everything.
She just doesn’t know what to do with it.
I lower my voice, slow and deliberate. “Ruby.”
She swallows. “Yes?”
“You’re nervous.”
Her breath catches. “I… I’m not..."
“It’s not a bad thing.”
She stiffens. “It’s a terrible thing.”
“No.” I shake my head. “It means you care.”
Her eyes snap up to mine, something sharp and vulnerable flickering there. “No, I don’t. I mean, I shouldn’t.”
“Wanting something isn’t the same as choosing it,” I say. “And you want this.”
She freezes.
Then whispers, “Stop.”
I don’t.
“You want the way I look at you.” My voice stays calm, steady, dangerously soft. “You want the way I talk to you. The way I make you feel.”
Her lips part, barely, but enough.
She tries to speak and fails.
Good.
I keep going.
“You’re scared it’s too fast,” I say. “Too intense. Too much.”
She nods, cheeks flushed. “Because it is.”
“For you,” I agree. “Not for me.”
Her brows pull together in confusion.
“Ruby,” I continue, “I’m a man who built a company from nothing. I know when something is worth investing in.”
Her pulse jumps visibly in her throat.
“And you?” I say quietly. “You’re a risk I’m willing to take.”
She looks at me like she can’t decide whether to run or reach across the table.
“Why me?” she whispers.
Finally.
The question she’s been suffocating on.
I lean in. Close enough that she feels the warmth of my breath, not touching, just… invading her air a little.
“Because when you talk,” I say softly, “I listen.”
She blinks.
“Because when you laugh?” I shake my head slowly. “I forget everything else.”
She inhales sharply.
“Because when I look at you, Ruby…” My voice drops lower, heavier. “There is nothing else in the room.”
Her fingers curl against the table.
“And,” I add, “because you fight this so hard.”
She closes her eyes like the truth hurts.
“You don’t want me to want you,” I say, “but you don’t want me to stop either.”
Her eyes open again, wide, shaken, honest.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” I say.
She doesn’t.
She can’t.
I sit back, giving her space she doesn’t ask for but desperately needs.
“See?” I say quietly. “You feel it too.”
She grips her bag tighter. “This… this is going to ruin everything.”
“Or,” I counter, “it’s going to change everything.”
“That’s the same thing.”
“No,” I say. “Not with us.”
The barista returns with our coffees, interrupting the moment. Ruby sits back fast, like she’s trying to put physical distance between us, but the energy stays exactly where it was.
Charged. Warm. Unavoidable.
I take a slow sip of coffee.
She stares at hers like it might detonate.
“You said you wanted to make things simple,” she says finally, her voice small.
“I do.”
“And this doesn’t feel simple.”
“No,” I say. “It feels real.”
Her breath hitches.
“And real scares you.”
She looks away, not because she’s offended, but because I hit the mark.
I lower my voice again.
“Let me take the lead, Ruby.”
Her eyes snap back to mine.
I hold her gaze steadily.
“You want to go slow,” I say. “Fine. I can do slow.”
She exhales shakily.
“But don’t mistake slow for distance,” I add. “I am not stepping back.”
Her lips part again, but she says nothing.
Good.
Let the silence work for me.
Let the truth settle.
Let her feel how certain I am.
Because I am certain. More than I’ve been about anything in months.
When I speak again, it’s calm. Unapologetic.
“I want you,” I say plainly. “And I’m not going to pretend otherwise.”
Her chest rises in one sharp breath.
“But I’m not going to rush you,” I add. “I’ll give you space. Time. Whatever you need.”
Then I lean forward, elbows on the table, voice dropping just enough to slip under her skin.
“But I’m not going anywhere.”
She swallows hard, eyes locked to mine like she’s suspended between panic and desire.
Then, quietly, barely audible, “Jaxon…”
And the way she says my name, tired, frustrated, wanting, hits me like a punch to the ribs.
I smile. Not cocky. Not arrogant. Just sure.
“We’ll get there,” I tell her.
Her eyes widen. “Where?”
“Wherever this is meant to go.”
She stares at me like she’s trying to decide if that excites her or terrifies her.
Probably both.
Good.
I want her right on that edge.
Because that’s exactly where she’ll finally choose me.