23. Twenty-Three
TWENTY-THREE
H arley
I think I’m falling in love with Jax Stone. After the shower hook-up, he took the time to wash my hair. His fingers meticulously massaged my scalp while shampooing, rinsing, conditioning, and rinsing again.
When we were finished, he watched me from the bed as I tended to my hair routine. His eyes never left me as I applied detangler, an oil for frizz control, and a small amount of curl cream before wrapping my hair into a large t-shirt.
Once we were in bed together, he wrapped me in his arms while I rested my head on his chest. His fingertips danced up and down my spine until I drifted to sleep there in his embrace. With each stroke of those long fingers, I can’t help but think about how it feels so much better than I imagined in my head.
Never in my life have I felt so at peace. He makes me feel safe and loved in a way that my own parents never have. His touch is a place I can see myself getting lost in. One that I never want to leave.
“You ready?” Jax asks from the bathroom doorway.
I take one last glance over in the mirror before turning toward him. When I asked him what I should wear to his parents for lunch, he told me to wear what I wouldn’t be allowed to wear at my own parent’s home.
I chose a light blue collared dress. Two diamond shapes are cut out of both sides, showing off my ribcage and hip bones. The hem falls just above my knees, swaying with every move. I turn, finding Jax’s eyes roaming over me starting at my toes and hovering at my lips. His nostrils flare and his eyes darken simultaneously.
“Red is definitely my favorite fucking color,” he murmurs, bending to kiss my forehead.
“It’s just lipstick,” I tell him, shaking my head with a smile.
“Not when I’m thinking about how great your lips will look wrapped around my cock,” he growls in my ear.
“We can revisit that later.” I pat my hand on his chest. “We need to be on time.”
“Did you plan to torture me with this dress all day?”
I walk past him into his bedroom. Slipping my feet into my converse shoes, I say nonchalantly, “Maybe.”
Standing up straight, I look at Jax where he leans in the doorway. His hair is perfectly unkempt, sticking up in ways I now know took him twenty minutes to achieve. He’s clean-shaven. Something that I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. Dark denim jeans cling to him in the most delectable way. The forest green button-up shirt stretches over his arms and chest, molding to his skin.
“What?” The corner of his mouth tips up.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be used to the clean shaved look on you,” I admit, closing the space between us.
His fingers skim the bare skin of my side before he settles his hand at the small of my back. Those dark eyes flick back and forth between mine. He reaches up and tucks a piece of hair behind my ear only for it to spring forward again.
Clearing his throat he asks, “What does the t-shirt do?”
“It leaves behind enough moisture to keep the curls from frizzing. On nights that I don’t wash my hair I put on a silk cap.” My words come out quietly.
Jax turns and walks down the hall. “Please tell me that the silk cap is red, Davidson. I don’t think I’ll be able to enjoy it as much if it isn’t,” he teases.
I smile and drop my gaze to the floor at my feet as I follow him. He heard the embarrassment weaving its way through my words. And instead of playing on my insecurities like my mother would, he’s easing the tension by cracking a joke.
“What if it’s black?” I call after him as he disappears down the stairs.
“Then I guess I’ll just have to buy you a red one!” he shouts.
Jogging after him, I follow him into the garage. The bay behind a slick black sports car opens. Jax steps up to the passenger door, opening it and gesturing for me to sit.
I settle myself into the cool leather seat. The jet-black interior matches the outside of the two door Maserati. Jax rounds the hood of the car, and it crosses my mind how his giant body is supposed to fit in this car.
The driver’s door opens, and his large frame drops down into the seat behind the wheel. It’s like the car was made for him. His hand falls to the gear shift, wiggling it from side to side before turning the key in the ignition.
Reaching up, he presses a hideaway compartment and pulls out a pair of sunglasses. He slides on a pair of thick, black squared frames that have metallic lenses. They’re absolutely perfect, accentuating every sharp angle of his face. He hooks his pointer finger just behind the lens, lowering the shades just enough to wink at me and push them back up the bridge of his nose. My stomach flips from the simple act.
He shifts the car into reverse and pulls out into the driveway. Jax puts it in first, accelerating before shifting again and again. I expect him to slow down to turn onto the main road. But as the gate comes into sight, he shows no signs of shifting back down.
“Zayden,” I warn, gripping onto the handle of the door and the center console.
The walking pineapple drifts the car onto the main road before flooring the gas and shifting into the highest gear. My heart pounds furiously in my chest. I struggle to control my breathing as my irritation grows.
Sliding a glare his way, I grit out, “What in the actual bananas is wrong with you?”
“My mom is so going to love you and your little knack for cursing fruits in place of actual swear words,” he says with a grin.
“You are an overgrown man child,” I mutter, crossing one leg over the other.
“And you’re fucking gorgeous. Now pick some music.”
He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone. Jax holds it out between us. Biting the inside of my cheek, I hesitantly reach out. Instead of dropping his hand back to his lap, the center console, or even the steering wheel, he cups my jaw and laces his fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck.
The act is so subtle. Yet, it’s everything .
Every anxious nerve in my body subsides, leaving me feeling relaxed. I unlock his phone and begin scrolling through the playlists he has set up. My head remains down but I shift my eyes over to Jax. All his attention is on the road as his fingers lightly stroke down my neck.
Pressing shuffle on a playlist that is labeled ‘alternative’, I go down to ‘pre-game prep’ and scroll through it. I sift through over a hundred upbeat rock songs. I shift my gaze to Jax again, still finding him occupied and tap the delete button on the playlist.
I spend the next forty minutes making two separate playlists. One titled ‘doe eyes’ and another ‘pre-game prep’. Except this time, ‘pre-game prep’ is filled with 90’s boy bands, Taylor Swift, and more. We pull into a driveway, much like the one to the mini mansion, just as I finish up my own playlist.
I gently place his phone into the cup holder and let myself take in the beauty that is the property of Stonewolf Corporation’s. It’s breathtakingly beautiful.
Trees and shrubbery line the road, creating an old plantation type feel to the land. The driveway is easily a mile long stretch within the cover of the trees before coming up on a massive wraparound drive-up in front of a manor much like the one my father owns.
It looks to be three floors with even more heavily forested land beyond the house and yard. The house is a stunning white with dark gray accents around each window and door. There’s a wraparound porch with matching gray banisters stretching along the outside.
Jax parks right in front of the walkway leading up to a gorgeous set of French doors. I stare at the manor in awe. Where the one I grew up in gives off a cold vibe, this one radiates light and love.
A knuckle brushes down my cheek. I turn my attention to where Jax sits in the driver’s seat. He removed his sunglasses. His dark eyes study whatever expression is on my face.
“Ready?”
I nod once. Unbuckling my seatbelt, I open the car door just as Jax steps up and holds his hand out for me to take. He gives me a reassuring smile, squeezing my hand once, before lacing our fingers together.
My heart rate continues to rise with each step we make up the stairs that lead to the main entrance. The only other times I’ve been this nervous were when I took the life determining tests like the ACTs and SATs. I honestly might puke from the anxiety that’s taking over.
When we step up to the door, Jax turns me toward him. He brings his hands up, cupping my face and tilting it up until my eyes meet his. Those dark orbs flick back and forth between mine. His thumbs gently stroke up my jaw. Without words, he calms every frayed nerve in my body. Eventually, my heart slows to a normal rate, along with my breathing.
“I already told you, they are going to love you. I have no doubt in my mind that they will,” he murmurs soothingly.
I bring my hands up and clasp his forearms. “Okay.”
“Okay,” he repeats. Jax leans down, his mouth hovering over mine. With a muttered, “Fuck it,” his lips meet mine.
It’s not the typical heated kisses we’ve shared this far. It’s one I feel from the tips of my toes all the way to the top of my head. It’s slow and sensual, his tongue gently caressing mine with every stroke. And when he pulls away, it’s only to drop his forehead to mine.
The door opens, but Jax doesn’t move. He doesn’t even flinch. In my peripheral vision, I can see a woman standing with one hand on the door jam and another propped on her hip.
“Um, Zayden?” I whisper.
“Ignore her. She’s a tyrant. She’ll go away,” he breathes.
“If anyone is a tyrant, it’s you. You’re a walking, talking, delinquent,” she clips mockingly.
“See what I mean? Total chaos. But if we remain completely still, she’ll get bored and walk away.”
“I don’t think I’ll get bored seeing you play a doting boyfriend, Zay.”
Jax straightens, dropping his hands to his sides and turning toward her. He reaches out, lacing his fingers through mine. “Harley, this is my little sister.”
She holds her hand out to me, a breathtaking smile stretching across her face. “Keeley.”
I place my hand in hers, trying not to stare at her. Four white, raised scars run from her right cheek down to her collar bone. Her red hair frames her round face, accentuating eyes so green, they take my breath away. Freckles dust every inch of her arms, chest, neck, and face. She’s strikingly gorgeous, not a sliver of makeup hiding her natural beauty.
“I’m sorry,” I say quietly, my eyes trailing down her never-ending legs. “I don’t mean to stare.” I glance up at Jax, finding his eyes already on me. “You’re just so beautiful. How tall are you?”
Keeley flips her hair over her shoulder. “Just shy of six feet.”
“Keeley,” Jax bites out, “Harley gave you a compliment.”
Her cheeks redden. “Right, sorry about that. Thank you. You’re gorgeous, too. I love your hair!”
I feel a blush creep up into my own cheeks. “Thanks,” I breathe.
“Come on,” she chirps. “Mom and Dad are on the back patio. Mom’s so excited to meet you, I think her head might explode. When Zay said he was bringing his girlfriend home, she about had an aneurysm.”
Jax puts a hand on the small of my back, ushering me inside and softly closing the door behind us. I’m not entirely sure where to look first. The open layout is completely different from anything I’ve seen before.
There are three entryways leading to separate rooms in the house. The room to the left looks to be the dining room, where the one off to the right is what I believe to be a sitting room. In front of us, right next to the stairs, is one leading to another hall. I assume it leads to the kitchen and the back of the home.
The large staircase wraps in a crescent moon shape from the second floor down to the entrance hall. The oak stairs stand out in the well lit room, emphasizing the white walls and tile floors.
In the center of the room hangs a crystal chandelier. It's placed directly over a round, glass top table. A ceramic vase of tulips and wildflowers sits in the middle of the table.
I don't have time to look at everything else, only getting glimpses of gorgeous paintings and many ceramic pieces that decorate the room, before Jax guides me through the entryway next to the stairs.
I didn't grow up poor. Despite the less than desirable treatment from my parents all my life, I have still always had a silver spoon in my mouth. Yet, as we make our way through the kitchen and into the backyard, I start to really question the type of spoon Jax has grown up with.
His family isn't your typical rich family, and from the looks of his childhood home, my family is poor in comparison.