Chapter 9
Jaxon
“How about I get up, grab my clothes, and make a mad dash to the bathroom,” she says, her back to me.
I gesture with a nod to the door even though she can’t see me. “Okay, then I’ll head to the spare room and hunt down my pants.” A laugh breaks out of me before I can stop it.
I glance over my shoulder and she half turns to me, her brow lifted. “What?”
“You’d think we’ve never seen a person naked before.”
“Well,” she shoots back, tilting her head with a smirk, “I’ve never seen that kind of naked before.”
I blink and glance down at myself, noting the way my early morning wood is tenting sheets. Down boy. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
She gestures vaguely at me, grinning over her shoulder. “You know exactly what it means.”
My laugh fades into something softer. “What, that I’m not your hot coffee shop guy? Handsome, sure, but not your type?”
A snort escapes her, quick and genuine. “Jaxon, please. You’re everyone’s type. But let’s be real.” She puts her hand in front of herself and waves it up and down her body. “You’ve never seen this kind of naked before.”
Her tone is teasing, but there’s a flicker underneath it. Insecurity. Doubt. Something that makes me stop pretending this is just fun banter between friends. Friends who are naked in bed together, sure, but friends none the less.
“What I see,” I say, voice lower now, “is a woman who’s curvy and sexy as hell. With thighs that could make a man forget his own name.”
Her entire body goes still, like I’ve crossed some invisible line. And maybe I have, but hell if I’m going to let her walk away without knowing how I see her.
“You know,” she says quietly, not meeting my eyes. “I was a little overweight as a kid.”
There it is. The soft spot she hides behind her humor.
I let out a slow whistle. “Good thing, too. Because whatever you carried back then, you turned it into art now. Every curve, every soft line, it’s like your body knew exactly where to put the beauty.”
The sheets rustle as I shift closer, not touching, just close enough for her to feel me there.
She huffs, still not fully buying it. “I’m no bunny, Jax. Which means I’m not your type.”
“You’re right,” I murmur. “You’re no bunny. You’re something rarer. The kind of sexy that sneaks up on a guy and ruins him for everyone else.”
She finally turns to face me, eyes narrowed like she’s searching for the lie. She doesn’t find one.
After a beat, she laughs, trying to shake off the moment. “Close your eyes, Lumber-Jax. I’m making my escape.”
I do as I’m told, grinning into the darkness. The sheet whispers against her skin, the sound of fabric and fumbling filling the room. Her footsteps hit the floor, the bathroom door clicks shut, and the distant rush of water starts.
“Breakfast?” I call out.
“I don’t have a lot of time,” she answers through the door, voice muffled by the spray.
I stand and start toward the door. “You still have to eat something.”
“Coffee’s good.”
I shake my head, amused. “No, coffee is not good.”
In the spare room, I find my clothes and I tug them on.
I head downstairs, taking the steps two at a time.
The house is quiet except for the low hum of the fridge and the thump of my bare feet on the stairs.
I’d love to whip her up a full breakfast—eggs, fruit, the works—but I don’t want to make her late for her very important job.
Luckily, I’ve got backup. Homemade chocolate zucchini muffins in the freezer.
I pop a few in the microwave to defrost and fire up the coffee machine.
By the time the pod finishes hissing, she steps into the kitchen wearing last night’s clothes.
Hair a little messy, cheeks a little flushed.
Damn if she doesn’t look good like that.
“Thank God no one’s around to see me do the walk of shame,” she mutters, tugging her shirt straight. Then her eyes widen. “Wait, don’t a lot of you players live in Beacon Hill?”
I chuckle. “It sucks to do the walk of shame when you didn’t even do anything worth the shame.
I mean, a person should at least have some really good sex to make it worth the walk.
” The microwave beeps behind me. “Besides, we’re adults.
We slept. Adults sleep. No shame in that.
Even if we did more, no one is going to shame us for that. We’re adults in a relationship.”
“Pretend,” she points out then tilts her head. “To be honest, I’ve never done the walk of shame before.”
“No way.” I open a cupboard and pull out another plate. Her gaze goes to the jar I keep there, a jar with Poppy’s name on it. I never did explain who Poppy was and I’m about to until her lips twitch.
“You sound surprised.”
“I am,” I admit, even though I’m not. She’s always been the focused one. Books, deadlines, big goals. She never had time for boyfriends—or even girlfriends—back in the day. But still, surely to God she hooked up in college.
I slide a warm muffin in front of her and pop the lid off the butter, but her eyes are focused on me. “Go ahead,” she says, smirking. “Ask it?”
I lift a brow. “It’s not really my business, but you’ve been—”
“Sexual? Yes.” She cuts me off neatly and leans in to inhale the steam curling off the muffin. “Wow, that smells amazing. Did you get these from Gina’s Café?”
I pour a splash of milk into her coffee, exactly the way she likes it. “Uh, no.”
Her eyes narrow, the journalist in her catching the scent of a story. “Wait. You bake?”
I grin. “We’re not turning this around on me, babe.”
“Seems like you’ve got secrets too.”
“Maybe,” I say, leaning on the counter. “But right now, I’m more interested in yours. You said you’ve been sexual, but…”
She groans and takes a bite of muffin instead of answering. Her eyes flutter shut, and a quiet moan escapes. “Oh my God, Jaxon. This is unreal. You have to give me the recipe.”
“But what?” I press, smiling as she tries to dodge. “If I’m going to be your fake boyfriend, there are things I need to know.”
She laughs through another mouthful and holds the muffin up like it’s some kind of treasure. “There are things I need to know too.”
“You first.”
“Fine,” she says, setting down her muffin. “I’ve been with two guys.”
“At the same time.”
“No,” she blurts out, like that’s completely ludicrous.
I hold my hands up. “I wasn’t judging or anything, and two guys, not at the same time, nothing wrong with that.”
“No, but what’s wrong is that both times…” she winces, and adds, “I had to finish the job myself afterward.” A beat and then, “TMI?”
“That’s not embarrassing, that’s tragic. And no, not TMI. I like that we can be honest.”
She gives me a look. “You mean, like when you warned me that you ‘sleep hot’?”
“Exactly. Total honesty.”
“And then you showed me exactly what you meant by that.”
“Hey, that was an accident,” I protest. “Autopilot.”
She smirks. “Right. Muscle memory.”
“Come on, you know it was a mistake.”
“Right, flashing your junk at me was a big mistake.”
“Did you just emphasize the word big?”
Her laugh bursts out, bright and unguarded. “You’re hearing what you want to hear, buddy. But if big helps you sleep at night…”
I can’t help laughing too. She’s funny when she’s relaxed. “Actually, you keep bringing it up. I’m starting to think you want to see it again.”
She nearly chokes on her muffin. I slide her coffee closer, and she grabs it, cheeks pink, gulping fast.
“I brought it up once,” she shoots back.
“I think you emphasized up that time.”
Her eyes widen, then she slaps a hand over her mouth, pretending to gasp. “Oh my God,” she says, eyes twinkling, “I woke you up too early, didn’t I?”
She’s mocking me—my earlier crack about keeping her up too late when she was trying to be funny—and I can’t help it, I grin.
“You’re getting good at this,” I tell her.
“Good at what?” she asks, playing innocent.
“Teasing me.”
She takes another sip of coffee, her smile hidden behind the rim. “Someone’s got to keep you humble, Lumber-Jax.”
But then her smile fades. It’s subtle at first, a tiny shift at the corners of her mouth, but I see it. Like someone just turned down the light behind her eyes. She nudges her plate away, appetite gone, and her gaze flickers up to meet mine, uncertain and uneasy.
“What?” I ask, my tone soft.
She exhales slowly. “It just occurred to me that this… might be a waste of time.”
“Coffee and muffins?” I tease lightly, trying to coax the smile back.
“No.” Her voice is quiet, heavier.
I lean forward, sensing it’s not about breakfast anymore. “What’s going on, Row?”
When she doesn’t answer, I reach across the table and take her hand. Her skin feels cool against mine. “Hey. Tell me.”
She swallows, eyes down. “Even if I did get hot coffee shop guy to notice me… what do I actually know about being with a guy?”
“You said you’ve been with two,” I remind her, trying to keep it casual. “Sure, they didn’t…finish the job right, but that’s on them, not you. I don’t know this guy, but I’m guessing he’s more experienced than some fumbling college kids.”
“I’m not though,” she says, voice small and a little broken. “I’m not more experienced than that same fumbling college girl. I mean, I know how it works, but there’s more to it than just…” She gestures vaguely, her cheeks coloring. “Insert slot A into slot B.”
I can’t help a low chuckle. “Well… yeah.”
She groans. “You said it yourself. I’m serious. Unapproachable.”
“This whole thing,” I say, gesturing between us, “is supposed to show him the opposite. That you are approachable. Touchable. Fun.”
Her shoulders slump, her voice barely above a whisper. “But then what? Say I get him. And he realizes I’m still that awkward, serious girl between the sheets.”
My brain stumbles over an idea I shouldn’t even think.
Should I offer lessons?
No. Shut it down, dude. That’s a line you don’t cross.
“Okay,” she says, half to herself, half to me, her brain clearly racing. “So I get him to notice me. Then what? He finds out I’m not what I pretended to be. Isn’t that… bait and switch?” She shakes her head and stares into her coffee. “I show him one thing, give him another.”
I lean back, studying her. “I don’t know. There’s nothing wrong with being serious, Row. If he can’t see how amazing you are as—”
“Maybe I don’t want to be serious anymore.”
That stops me cold.
Her eyes lift, slow and deliberate, locking on mine. There’s curiosity there. A spark. And something a little dangerous. “Just for a little while,” she adds softly.
My pulse trips. “You… want to have fun?” I ask, swallowing hard. I’m not entirely sure where this is going, or maybe I am, and that’s what’s dangerous.
“I do.” Her voice is steady this time. Sure of itself.
I blink, trying to make sense of it. “That’s why you want hot coffee shop guy’s attention, right? To have fun, not be serious?”
“Yes, but…” She groans and drops her head into her hand. “Ugh, I hate that I’m even admitting this, Jaxon.”
“You can tell me anything,” I say gently. “Whatever it is, it stays between us.” I squeeze her hand again, my thumb brushing over her knuckles before I can stop myself. “You have my word. Just like I can trust you.”
She hesitates, chewing her lip, and the silence stretches between us, thick and heavy.
“You’re embarrassed,” I murmur.
Her eyes flick up to mine, searching. “Yes,” she says finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t exactly want to humiliate myself in front of hot coffee guy.” She presses her lips together, shaking her head. “I think I’m going in circles here.”
“It’s okay,” I tell her, even though my chest feels tight watching her beat herself up.
She straightens, like she’s giving herself a pep talk.
“Okay, let me lay it out. I want to get with hot coffee guy and just… have fun. The problem? I don’t know how to not be serious.
And even if he could get past that, he’s not going to love how inexperienced I am in bed.
” She winces, the color climbing her neck.
“Jaxon, I’ve never even…you know… given a guy a blow job. ”
My brain flatlines. “Um. Okay.”
There are about seventeen wrong ways to react to that, and I’m pretty sure I just hit fifteen of them internally.
Because, great, now my traitorous mind is picturing her—nope.
Not going there. Not now. I shift in my seat, trying to breathe like a normal human being as my traitorous dick rises up, suddenly very interested in this conversation.
“When we kissed the other night,” I manage, my voice rougher than I’d like. “It didn’t exactly scream inexperienced.”
Smooth. Real smooth, dude.
She quirks an eyebrow, a teasing smile pulling at her lips. “That’s because it was you.”
“Me?”
“You’re easy.”
“Oh jeez, easy, huh?” I grin to hide the fact that her words landed somewhere deep and inconvenient. “Tell me how you really feel.”
She laughs and swats my arm. “You know what I mean.”
“I think I do,” I say slowly. “You mean I’m easy to be around. Because I’m like a brother or something.”
“Brother? Oh God, no.”
My heart trips. “No?”
She exhales, shaking her head quickly. “I just mean we’ve been friends forever, and I’m comfortable with you.”
Then she pauses. Blinks. And I can almost see the thought forming behind her eyes, the reckless, impossible one I don’t want her to put voice to.
Much.
“Maybe you could…” She hesitates, biting her lip, her gaze flicking up through her lashes. “…give me lessons.”
Every muscle in my body goes rigid.
No. Nope. Absolutely not. Worst. Idea. Ever.
My throat makes a sound that can only be described as a dying walrus noise as I try to swallow words that won’t come. Her eyes widen instantly, horror flashing across her face.
“I’m kidding,” she blurts, waving her hand. “God, I was kidding, Jaxon. I wouldn’t actually… I mean, I’d never risk our friendship. I was just thinking—you haven’t been with anyone in a while, and I—”
She’s rambling. Which means she’s nervous. Which means she’s not kidding.
“—I just thought maybe I could learn a few things, you know, not like that, just—ugh, never mind.” She groans, running a hand through her hair. “Forget I said anything. I’m just…bad at this. Clearly.” Her voice drops to a mumble. “It’s no wonder Matt didn’t show up the other night. He probably—”
“I’ll do it.”
The words come out before I can stop them.
Her head jerks up, eyes wide.
What the ever-loving fuck did I just agree to?