Naomi #2
“Mija,” she breathes, her voice thick with unfiltered affection.
“Welcome. I’m Tía Manuella. I know you must be a little confused.
Miguel is the name my sister, Rosalinda, chose for Jaxon, after our father—his father hated it.
As if, Jaxon is any better than my father’s name.
” Her delicate face knits into a scowl, her distaste for Jaxon’s father palpable.
“He will always be Miguel to us.” She smiles, reaching up to cup Jaxon’s face.
Tears gleaming in her eyes as she runs a thumb over his dimple.
Before I can say anything more, she pulls me into another hug, her voice cracking as she whispers, “Are you hungry?”
I glance at Jaxon over her shoulder, searching for some kind of answer to this unexpected warmth. His expression is maddening—a subtle smile and eyes full of secrets he has no intention of sharing.
“I can eat,” I manage to say, though her tight embrace is making it hard to breathe.
Tiá Manuella chuckles, releasing me just enough to grab Jaxon’s wrist, looking between both of us.
“The same person,” I swear I hear her mumble before she’s pulling both of us into the bustling restaurant. The vibrancy is almost overwhelming—music, laughter, the swirl of bodies on the dance floor. She doesn’t stop until we’re seated at a booth on the edge of it all.
“Sit,” she commands. “I’ll have them bring you some things to try.”
“Tía, we don’t—” Jaxon starts, but she silences him with a sharp look.
She turns back to me, her tone softening. “Is there anything you’re allergic to?”
“No, no allergies,” I reply.
Her smile brightens, and she squeezes my hand one last time before disappearing into the crowd.
I glance at Jaxon, feeling suddenly, acutely aware of being left alone with him. He leans back in the booth, watching me like I’m the most fascinating thing in the room. His gaze feels like a scathing phantom touch, and my skin heats under it.
Grabbing the drink menu, I fan myself lightly, desperate for some air.
“Hot?” he asks, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
“It’s a bit warm in here,” I lie. But my temperature has nothing to do with the room and everything to do with him.
He chuckles softly, “I’ll bet.”
Picking up the food menu, I try to shield myself from his unnerving gazes, but before I can read the first line, his finger hooks into the fold of the menu and pulls it from my hands.
“You won’t need that,” he says, tossing it aside. “You’re trying everything tonight.”
I narrow my eyes at him, fighting the urge to either punch him or kiss him again. Honestly, I don’t know which I want more. I haven’t even had the time to sort out my feelings about what happened between us last night.
Did anything happen? Or maybe it was nothing. Maybe we could just ignore the glaring elephant in the room and pretend it doesn’t exist.
“It’s a wonder your head hasn’t exploded,” Jaxon says, his voice low and teasing. His hand reaches out, finger twirling along a rogue curl on the side of my temple. “I can see the gears grinding in that pretty head of yours.”
I swat his hand away, “Stop doing that.”
“Doing what?” He cocks a brow, feigning innocence.
“Touching me,” I bite out through clenched teeth, shifting farther away from him in the booth. “You can’t just touch me whenever you feel like it.”
His grin sharpens, cutting through me like a knife. “You didn’t seem to have a problem with it last night.”
Before I can respond, his hand slides up the inside of my thigh, gripping firmly. With one swift tug, I tumble into him, hands pressed to his solid chest. His arm snakes around my waist, locking me in place.
“Tell me,” he whispers, his lips brushing the shell of my ear, his voice a deep rumble that makes my stomach flip.
“How hard did you fight to keep thoughts of us out of your head? Did you feel me all day, like I felt you?” Heat pools low in my belly, automatically flooding my panties.
His lips are close—too close—and I can feel every word he speaks like a brand on my skin.
“Jaxon, no,” I manage, shoving his wandering hand away, just before his fingers can expose my secret. “If you touch me again, I swear I’ll leave.”
“Oh yeah?” He leans back, releasing me, though the satisfied grin on his face says he knows exactly the effect he has on me. “Try it.”
A waitress appears at our table, breaking the tension, finally. She places two platters of sizzling food in front of us, her smile coy. “Nice to see you again, Mr. Knox. Can I get you anything else?”
Her posture screams desperation, the angle of her lean so deep I can see the lace of her black bra peeking out from beneath her blouse. One precarious button is all that’s holding her top together, and I swear it’s about to give up the fight.
Jaxon doesn’t even glance at her. “No. That’ll be all, Maria. But do me a favor—switch with Fabian.”
Her face falls, her sulking unmistakable as she walks away. It shouldn’t bother me, but it does.
“Old flame?” I ask, keeping my tone casual, though my fingers curl tightly around the edge of the table.
He grabs a maduro from my plate, tossing it into his mouth. “Why? Do you care?”
“Not at all,” I say, my voice crisp. I keep my gaze fixed on the food in front of me. It looks amazing, the kind of meal cooked with love, but my appetite is nowhere to be found. “You two just seemed… friendly, that’s all.”
Before he can answer, two large, crystal glasses thud onto the table.
“Two El Presidentes. Extra Strong!” the newcomer announces, his voice vibrant and warm. He claps Jaxon on the shoulder, grinning widely.
Jaxon stands, his entire demeanor softening as he embraces the man.
“?Qué vuelta, Primo?” the man chuckles, giving him a squeeze. Another cousin—oh, what joy!
Jaxon rarely genuinely smiles, but he’s been grinning all night, and the sight is like a punch to my chest. This version of him is entirely different—a stranger.
“Nothing much,” Jaxon says, shaking his head.
Fabian narrows his eyes. “Oh, fuck you, ‘nothing much.’” He turns his attention to me, his expression mischievous as he talks his cousin up like Jaxon’s ego needs any stroking. “The fucking guy’s a superhero, and he always gives me this bullshit answer. You believe him?”
“Ms. Blaine has already decided she hates me,” Jaxon cuts in, his tone dry. “No need to try to convince her otherwise.”
“Hate is a strong word,” I say smoothly, locking eyes with Fabian. “That would imply I feel anything for him.”
Jaxon’s smirk returns, sharper than ever, but he doesn’t respond. His silence is louder than any retort, and the tension between us remains, heavy and unyielding.
“Well, shit.” Fabien crosses his arms over his chest, a playful gleam in his eyes. “You really fucked up, huh, cuz?”
Jaxon shoves him, his jaw tight. “Guess I’ll have to work on my first impressions.”
“You’ve gotta work on every impression,” Fabien fires back, clapping a hand on Jaxon’s shoulder with a grin. “Beautiful woman like this, do better, cuz.”
“Thanks for that,” Jaxon mutters, shrugging Fabien’s hand off with a sharp flick, sliding back into the booth.
“I mean, he’s not wrong,” I add, sipping from the black straw in my liquor-soaked cocktail. My throat burns immediately. “Shit,” I cough. “That's strong.”
The burn spreads through my chest, and I can’t stifle a cough. Jaxon snatches the glass away from me, setting it out of reach. “Okay, champ,” he drawls, sliding a fork toward me. “How about some food first?”
I reach right over his arm, reclaiming my drink. “How about you don’t tell me what to do?” I take a long, defiant gulp and shoot him a glare. “I’m grown.”
He narrows his eyes, a muscle twitching in his jaw, but I don’t care. Instead, I turn my attention to Fabien, who’s watching the exchange with a shit-eating grin.
“Can you keep these coming all night, handsome?” I ask Fabien sweetly, looking up at him through my lashes.
He whistles, leaning in so close I can feel his breath fan against my cheek. “For you? Absolutely, hermosa.”
I give him my sexiest smile, the one that makes hearts race and men trip over themselves. He grins back, all dimples and charm.
“Thank you,” I purr.
Fabien’s grin widens as he backs away and nearly collides with another waiter.
He catches himself at the last second, glancing over his shoulder to give me a thumbs-up.
His boyish laugh lingers in the air, making me chuckle despite myself.
From the corner of my eye, I catch Jaxon fuming, his glare practically searing into my skin. But I refuse to look at him.
The music shifts, congas and guitars weaving a sultry rhythm through the air. I let my body sway to the beat, as the liquor loosens my limbs. Warmth blooms under my skin, and I giggle at the urge to strip off every layer of clothing. For the first time in forever, I feel… stress-free.
But just as quickly, the tension is back. Jaxon’s arm snakes around my waist, dragging me back to reality.
“I’m going to have to carry you home at this rate,” he murmurs, a soft caress. But I keep swaying, pretending not to notice how his hand tightens against my hip. “If you’re not careful,” he whispers, “you’ll end up in my bed again.”
Turning my head to meet his smoldering gaze, I’m suddenly keen on playing his little game. “Is that what you want?”
He blinks, his lips parting. “Yes.”
The air between us crackles, and I lean closer, resting my palm against his chest. His muscles tense under my touch. “Too bad,” I whisper, my lips brushing his, “It’ll never happen again.”
The muscles in his jaw twitch, the fire in his eyes flickering for just a moment before he masks it—challenge accepted.
“You know,” a sharp voice cuts our staring contest short, “for someone who claims not to feel anything for my cousin, you two look awfully cozy.”
Melody.
I glance over at her, tall and imposing, arms crossed. “Maybe it wouldn’t seem that way if your cousin learned to keep his damn hands to himself,” I snap, tugging myself out of Jaxon’s grip.