17. Jax
CHAPTER 17
Jax
T he first thing I noticed when I woke up was I was alone in bed.
The second thing I noticed was the sound of frantic movement—like someone trying to escape without waking the person they’d just slept with.
I cracked one eye open, grinned when I saw Dee standing near the chair in the corner of the room, pulling on her jeans as if they’d personally offended her. Her shirt was half-buttoned, her fiery hair was a wild mess, and her back was turned to me—but the tension in her shoulders told me everything I needed to know.
“Mornin’,” I drawled, propping myself up on one elbow.
Her fingers fumbled with the last button on her shirt. “Don’t.”
“Don’t what?” I drawled, not even bothering to hide my amusement.
She whirled around, her cheeks flushed and her green eyes blazing. “Don’t do that thing where you act like this is normal.”
I grinned. “Dee, it’s morning. People say mornin’ to each other. It’s basic human interaction.”
Her glare deepened, and she turned back to her jeans, yanking up the zipper with so much force I half-expected it to snap. “This shouldn’t have happened.”
I let out a low chuckle, leaning back against the pillows. “I think it was bound to happen, darlin’. You were just too stubborn to admit it.”
“I’m not stubborn,” she retorted, her face mutinous. I hoped that we had a daughter who looked just like her.
Wow! Really?
Yeah, I was gone for this lass.
I raised an eyebrow. “No?”
She made a sound that was somewhere between a growl and a groan. She ran a hand through her hair and paced the room like a caged animal.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m looking for my knickers.”
I felt around the bed and pulled her knickers out from under my pillow. She snatched them away and stared at them like they were a puzzle to be solved.
I watched her, fascinated by the way she could simultaneously look so put-together and so completely frazzled.
“Dee, come here and give me a morning kiss.”
She looked at me like I’d lost my mind, her panties hanging off one finger. “You have some brass balls on you, Yank.”
“You bet!”
As she stalked to me, hands on her hips, I snagged her waist, threw her on the bed, and settled on top of her. “Now, I have you exactly where I want you.”
She made a face.
I kissed her nose. “Good morning, Dee.”
“Let go of me.” There was zero heat in her voice.
“Not until you say good morning.”
She sighed. “Fine. Good the feck morning to you. Happy?”
I kissed her nose again and then trailed to her mouth, glad to find she hadn’t yet brushed her teeth. I didn’t have a problem with morning breath, but maybe she did. She opened her mouth, let me in, and I kissed her softly, gently, and deeply.
“Now, that was nice. After how special I made last night for you, I deserve that kiss, didn’t I?”
She arched an eyebrow, the tension leaving her. Yeah, she just had to get used to me, to the idea of us . “I made it equally special for you.”
I feigned uncertainty. “Well…I mean, I gave you two spectacular orgasms. I got only one.”
She made a face.
“And I ate you out. You did not return the favor.”
“You were in a big rush to get inside me,” she reminded me.
“Well, I’m hoping you’ll make it up to me tonight.”
“With a blow job?” Her eyes were ready to bug out.
Did she think this would be a one-night stand? Well, I had to disabuse her of that notion right away.
She took a deep breath. “I don’t do this, Jax.”
“You don’t give head?”
She let out a deep breath. “ This .”
She was genuinely worried about what this meant. I got it. If I didn’t know how I felt about her, I’d be a mess as well. But I did know. She’d get there eventually, just like I knew the exact distance and the right club to use to sink a birdie putt. Dee was in love with me—it was as certain as the feel of a perfect swing connecting with the ball.
“You’ve got to be more specific, darlin’.” I rested my weight on my forearms, my hands cradling her face. “You don’t do what, exactly? Have sex?”
“I have sex.”
“Then what?”
Her jaw tightened. “What are we doing?”
I didn’t mind that she was confused, but I didn’t like that she was scared.
“You know you’re adorable when you’re trying to avoid your feelings,” I teased.
“What?”
“Darlin’ Dee, what we’re doing is having what they call an old-fashioned romance in the rolling hills of Ireland. I mean, this is all so on point that all we’re missing is the Hallmark background music.”
She frowned. “Hallmark? I swear to God, Jax Caldwell, you confuse me.”
I also know how to make you let your stress go, I thought. I felt like a freaking God to be able to do that for her, divert her mind.
“You know, Hallmark romance movies? Boy meets girl?—”
“You’re not a boy , and I’m not a girl .”
“True, considering a boy wouldn’t have my equipment.”
“Ugh!” She feigned annoyance, but she was amused. I was relieved. I didn’t want her to freak out or be afraid or worry about what having sex meant because if she saw what I really wanted, she’d bolt faster than a sheep spotting the shears.
“Well, in Hallmark romances?—”
“I know what Hallmark is,” she cut me off. “You think this is a romance?” Now, she was at ease because she wrapped her arms around me. Her panties fell on the bed.
“Oh, baby, I hope so because I plan on sweepin’ you off your feet.”
“I don’t really regret last night,” she confessed.
“I know.”
“But I want to.”
“Know that too.” I kissed her lips.
“Do I annoy you?”
“No.”
“Am I a pain in your arse?”
I raised an eyebrow. “I’d never say no to a prostate?—”
“Get your feckin’ mind out of the gutter.” She began to laugh and pushed me off of her. I rolled onto my back and watched her get out of bed.
“We doin’ this again, Dee,” I told her.
“I’m going to get hurt.”
“How?”
She shook her head and walked to the door, not looking at me. I shifted up the bed and stacked pillows, so I could sit up against the headboard. “Last night was amazing. I don’t regret it for a second. Why do you want to?”
She froze again, her shoulders stiffening like I’d just touched a nerve. When she finally turned to face me, her expression wasn’t angry anymore—it was guarded. Hurt.
“Because”—she finally let me see her eyes, they were shining—"this doesn’t end well for me, Jax.” Her voice trembled just enough to make my chest tighten. “I can’t do that again.”
“Do what again?” I asked gently. I wanted to get to her, to hold her, but she was like a skittish filly—and if there was one thing I knew about horses, it was that patience was everything.
“Get close to someone,” she admitted, her voice rising. “Let them in. Hope for something I know won’t last. Because it never lasts, Jax. People leave. People betray me.”
For a moment, I didn’t know what to say. It was obvious that her scars ran deep.
“I won’t.”
“You don’t know that,” she countered.
I held my hand out to her.
She came to me, and if I were standing, my knees would’ve buckled with relief.
She took it and sat down by me on the bed. I stroked a cheek. She didn’t pull away. Her eyes searched mine as if she were waiting for some epiphany to strike.
“I get it.” I brought her hand to my lips and kissed the back of it. “You’ve been through hell. And you think that if you don’t let anyone in, you won’t get hurt again. But that’s not living, Dee. That’s surviving.”
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words.
“And for what it’s worth,” I added, my voice softening even more, “I’m not Cillian. I’m not going to hurt you. But I can’t prove that to you if you keep running away.”
“I don’t know how to do this,” she conceded, her voice barely above a whisper.
I tilted her chin up so she had to meet my gaze. “I’ve never felt this way before, either. How about we find out together how to do this?”
“You’ll leave.” There was a tremor in her voice.
“I’ll always come back.”
“But—”
I put a finger over her lips to silence her. “My grandma used to say, don’t borrow trouble from tomorrow. Yesterday is in the past. We learn from it, but we don’t let it stall us from moving forward in the present.”
She nodded. “I have to get the bar ready to open.”
“I’ll be down as soon as I get a shower to help you.”
After she closed the door behind her, I ran a hand through my hair as I let out a long, frustrated sigh.
Dee Gallagher was the most stubborn, complicated, infuriating woman I’d ever met. And she was also the only one I’d ever been willing to fight this hard for.
There were a lot of things I wasn’t sure about—how the wind would play on a blind shot, whether I could sink a tricky downhill putt, or if my driver would hold up under pressure. But if there was one thing I was certain of, it was that Dee Gallagher might be scared, but she wasn’t the only stubborn one in this equation.
“Guess I’ll just have to push out your distrust and doubts, Wild Cat,” I muttered to myself.