Chapter 31
Thirty-One
Sadie
“ P lease come inside,” Jax begs in my car while we’re parked in front of his house. I offered to drive him home since he was clearly drunk. And I’m…very sober.
“I really don’t think it’s a good idea tonight, Jax,” I say, squeezing the steering wheel tight in my grip.
The old me would have climbed out of this car so fast there would have been smoke left in my wake.
The old me might have looked past the fact that he was drunk.
The old me might have looked past the fact that he was a selfish lover in bed. Or that he has a track record of being flaky and dismissive.
But the old me had a weakness for hot men.
Which is exactly how I got myself into this situation in the first place.
At some point, a girl’s gotta learn. Don’t get me wrong, I still want a relationship of some sort with Jax. But after tonight, I’m starting to doubt more and more that that relationship will be romantic. And maybe that’s okay.
“Why not?” he whines. Leaning over to take my hand in his, he interlaces our fingers, squeezing them tight as if that somehow binds me to him like handcuffs. Like if he holds my hand then I’ll have no choice but to follow him to bed.
I rest my head against the headrest and stare at him through the late-night darkness.
“For one, you’re drunk,” I say.
“I am not!” he argues with a condescending tone. As if I didn’t just watch him throw back half a dozen Fireball shots and almost a case of beer.
“Second of all,” I add, “it’s late. I’m tired, but I had fun, and I really appreciate you inviting me out.”
He lets out a despondent sigh as he stares at me from the passenger seat. “I already blew it, didn’t I?” he asks. He looks like a sad puppy who just pissed on the carpet and knows he fucked up.
So I go easy on him. “You didn’t blow it,” I say softly.
I don’t have anything to add to that, so I stay quiet. Internally, I note the fact that Jax considers blowing it or screwing up our chances for a relationship as equal to not getting sex tonight. And that should be a giant red flag right there.
“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” I offer, trying to end this conversation so he’ll get out of my car.
“I really do think I want to be, you know…” His voice trails as he releases my hand from his grip.
I wait for him to finish his sentence before finally saying, “A what?”
“You know,” he stammers, “a dad, to the, you know, to the baby.”
It takes everything in me not to start laughing. The fact that Jax still seems to be hesitant about whether or not he wants to be the father of this child without fully acknowledging the fact that he is one hundred percent the father of this child is downright hilarious.
Suddenly, I see Jax for exactly what he is: a boy in the body of a man. I don’t know much about his personal life or how he was raised, but I get the sense that Jax was never quite forced to grow up. He’s been coasting by on his good looks, maybe his parents’ money. The adrenaline high of a little bit of fame. And he’s never had to face what true adulthood is like. He lives without consequence, and there’s a good chance he always will.
I tap the top of his hand softly as I say, “I think that’s great, Jax. I really do.” Then I rest both hands back on the steering wheel, and I stare at him as I wait for him to get out of the car.
Eventually, he picks up the signal and opens the door. Before leaving, he leans over, presses his lips to my cheek, and softly whispers, “Night, sexy Sadie.”
“Good night, Jax,” I reply.
On the way home, I replay the entire night in my head. All in all, it was actually a pretty fun evening, but most of my recollection of it featured him . The way he kept talking about how smart I was. The way he constantly watched me. The palpable chemistry between us, even when we were there with other people.
There’s a comfort I can’t explain with Luke. A yearning just to be near him. I know he feels it, too. When I return to the house, I open the front door quietly, unsure of what environment I’m about to walk into. For all I know, he could be asleep, passed out in his room, or he could be up waiting for me. Perhaps in the mood to punish me for staying out too late, kissing someone else, or behaving as if I don’t belong to him.
When I walk into the living room, I find Luke sitting on the couch. He’s still fully dressed with his jacket and shoes on, reclining against the back with his legs splayed. He’s staring at me as if he’s lost, despondent, ruined, and I feel the pangs of pity in my chest.
I did this to him. We did this to him. This affair we’ve been having for the past three months is like a disease, and the symptoms are agonizing. Because I feel it, too.
I drop my purse on the bench by the door. Then I shuck off each of my shoes, tossing my coat on the rack before turning to stare at him.
Neither of us says a word until he softly mutters, “Come here.”
I don’t hesitate. I move like water sliding through rock. I’m hiking up my dress before straddling his lap on the couch. He doesn’t move except for his hands, which glide softly up my thighs.
His eyes devour me like he’s savoring every inch. As if he’s glad I’m here.
“You came back,” he whispers. His gaze doesn’t leave my face.
“Of course I did,” I reply.
“Why? Why would you come home to me, Sadie? I can’t give you what you want.”
My heart lurches as those words slice it in half. His hand reaches up to cup my cheek. The way he looks at me now, like he’s admiring me, is like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I’ve never felt so seen.
I don’t have an answer to his question. Because wanting a man I can’t have bears no explanation, at least not a good one. So I shrug.
“I don’t deserve you,” he mumbles.
“Don’t say that,” I argue. It feels like we’re crossing lines we haven’t crossed yet. Are we finally at the precipice, ready to speak the unspoken truth? Our genuine feelings. Instead of brushing them under kinky behavior and sex.
“It’s true, Sadie,” he says, sitting more upright and pulling me closer. “I will never be a good husband or a good father. It’s why I will never marry or have children. I refuse to disappoint someone the way my father disappointed me.”
Tears sting my eyes as I stare at him. “That’s why you don’t want to settle down? Lucas, fuck him . Don’t let his curse write your story. You’re not him.”
I watch him swallow as he stares at me with something that looks like hope on his face. “What if I let you down? What if I let you both down? ”
“You could never let me down,” I reply, leaning forward to press my forehead against his.
He tightens his grip on me.
“Tell me we can make this work, Sadie. And I’m yours.”
There isn’t an ounce of hesitation in my mind. “We can make this work.”
“You and the baby could come to London,” he says with a sense of renewed excitement.
“Or you could come visit here,” I say. There’s a tingle of hope crawling up my spine, like standing on the edge of something amazing.
As his gaze drops to my lips, I freeze. I’m ready to seal the deal. I want the intimate touch of his mouth on me more than I’ve wanted anything.
“I should have kissed you at midnight,” he says as his hands glide slowly up my spine.
“We can make our own midnight,” I reply in a gentle whisper.
He replies with a soft smile. “I like that idea.”
“Then count down,” I reply.
“Ten,” he mutters as his touch drifts back down to my legs. “Nine, eight.”
His fingers reach the hem of my dress.
“Seven, six.”
He pulls it up, slowly revealing my body until he’s tugging it over my head. I’m straddling his hips in nothing but a bra and black lace panties.
“Five, four.”
I lean closer to him, my mouth just inches from his, as we whisper the last three together.
“Three, two, one.”
“Happy New Year,” I say as our eyes meet.
I barely get the words out before his hand is on the back of my neck, and he’s crashing his lips against mine. His kiss is ravenous as we both moan into each other’s mouths like wild animals that have been caged for too long .
He licks and sucks on every part of my mouth he can: my tongue, my lips, my face. I let myself drown in his kiss, closing my eyes as I throw caution to the wind, kissing him like this means forever.
Our lips are tangled for a long time. I don’t think I’ve made out like this since high school. The entire time, I grind on top of him, and I feel his cock beneath me, quickly hardening as he grips my hips.
“Take your bra off,” he commands, nodding toward my bra. His mouth is red and swollen, and I can’t stop myself from crashing right back down for another kiss first. Then I reach behind and unclasp my bra, letting it fall off before flinging it to the floor.
Being this exposed with Luke doesn’t make me feel insecure like it sometimes does with other men. He’s fully clothed, and I’m almost naked on top of him.
When his eyes drift down to my breasts and then below to my belly, I know he’s not scrutinizing the soft rolls at my hips or the stretch marks on my breasts. He licks his lips at the sight of me, and I know it’s because he celebrates every perfect inch.
He doesn’t even flinch at the sight of my swollen stomach as I grind myself on him. He urges me on, guiding me as I tilt my hips and seek friction on his now rock-hard cock.
I let out a whimper, and he squeezes me tighter.
“There you go,” he mumbles softly. “Keep going.”
I pick up speed as my head falls back, and I pinch my own nipples. Pleasure radiates from the pain, and with my eyes closed, I imagine him at the table tonight—watching me. I imagine he claims me. Calls me his. Tells everyone how smart I am. How beautiful I am. He tells everyone I’m his.
I grow breathless as I rock myself against him, shameless in pursuit of my orgasm.
“That’s my girl,” he whispers. “Show me how you get yourself off, Miss Green. Use my cock. It’s all yours.”
My response is a deafening, husky groan. Bringing my gaze down to him, I stare into his eyes as I pinch my nipples, rubbing myself all over him like an animal in heat.
Even when I lean in to press my lips to his, he talks me through it, mumbling against my mouth.
“Don’t stop,” he whispers, dragging my body down harder on his stiff length. “Let me see you get yourself off.”
I’m whimpering and moaning wildly, and when I finally reach the crest, my body explodes with sensation. It travels up my spine like fire, dousing me in ecstasy. I clutch tight to Luke’s arm as my body seizes. I stop breathing as I ride out the waves while he watches.
I’ve barely come down before Luke reaches down and unbuckles his belt. I shift out of his way as he unbuttons his pants and tears down his zipper. His movements are rushed and desperate as he pulls out his cock and yanks me back up on his lap.
Tugging my panties to the side, he guides himself in and pushes my hips down until he’s fully seated inside me.
The look on his face is both relieved and euphoric, as if not being inside me was torture for him. For a moment, he doesn’t move, and neither do I. I feel his cock pulsing like he’s struggling to keep himself from coming already.
Once he has himself composed, he grabs my hips again and guides my movement. I grind on him again, slowly at first, kissing him as I move. His hands meander their way around my body. Over my waist and around my belly, then up to my breasts and down the fleshy valleys of my sides.
Suddenly, his composure slips, and he loses control. Gripping my ass, he grinds me harder and harder on top of him.
“Tell me who the fuck you belong to,” he mutters against my mouth.
His cock reaches so deep inside me that I feel myself coursing straight toward another climax. My body is buzzing for him, needing more, wanting more.
“You,” I cry out .
“That’s right,” he says through the sounds of our bodies slapping together. Then he reaches out and grabs my face, forcing me to look at him. “And that’s my fucking baby too, isn’t it?”
Heat swells inside me. And there isn’t a moment of hesitation as I cry out, “Yes.”
“I’m the one who fills you up, Miss Green,” he says as I move faster. “I am the one who makes you come.”
My second climax hits me like a train—this one overwhelming and intense. It’s like pleasure from the inside out.
As I’m screaming through the orgasm, Luke thrusts upward once, then twice, and stills as he empties himself inside me. His groans mingle with mine until we look and sound and feel like one.
When all is said and done, I collapse on his chest, pressing my face in his neck and breathing him in. My heart swells and beats against his.
There isn’t a doubt in my mind now.
I love this man. Against all odds, I fell in love with the one person I wasn’t supposed to.
And I think he did, too.
But loving him doesn’t mean getting to keep him. In this case, loving him means eventually letting him go.