Chapter 31 Izzy
Chapter thirty-one
Izzy
I’m not ready.
Jaxon’s bathroom is jaw-dropping. It’s like stepping into a high-end spa in the Swiss Alps—if that spa also smelled like pine, cedar, and just a hint of him.
A scent I’m worried is now so ingrained in my olfactory processing center that it will forever be the standard against which I judge all other smells.
The floors are a smooth, heated stone that somehow manage to feel like a hug to my bare feet.
The massive shower takes up nearly the entire back wall.
Floor-to-ceiling glass. Matte black fixtures.
Multiple rainfall showerheads and rows of body jets that look like they were engineered by someone who really understands shoulder tension and poor posture.
There’s a floating double vanity, and a sleek, freestanding tub sits beneath a row of windows that overlook the same perfectly designed backyard.
I have no idea where the toilet is, but it’s not out here ruining the ambiance.
I stare, completely overwhelmed. “This is…obscene.”
Jaxon laughs behind me. “Right? I told my architect I wanted a shower that would ruin all other showers for me. Mission accomplished.”
“Jaxon,” I say, stepping in to get a closer look at the panel of buttons. “I think this shower requires a degree in engineering.”
“I’ll set it up for us,” he says, and I turn to make room for him. “Eucalyptus steam, full-body massage, mellow playlist. Trust me.”
That something in his eyes from before has grown and morphed into something warm and hungry and barely restrained.
My breath catches.
“We’d better see how good your presets are first,” I say, lifting my chin in a challenge I don’t fully understand.
He steps forward, reaches past me, and presses a few buttons on the panel. Steam rises behind the glass, soft and scented. The lights dim slightly, and a gentle acoustic guitar track filters into the space.
When he turns toward me, he’s close—close enough for me to feel the heat of his body.
He brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “Are you ready to let go, Izzy?”
I don’t have time to even consider his question before his lips are pressing against my neck. Still holding to my no-kissing rule, as much as I regret making it right now.
I want tender. I want a first kiss.
But I know that could break me. The kiss that may already be breaking me, just thinking about having it and knowing I’ll never get more.
So I say nothing.
Jaxon stops his exploration of my neck to strip my shirt off, tossing it aside before unhooking my bra.
His mouth moves to my clavicle, pulling a sigh from me as he shoves the nicest pair of jeans I own off my hips.
I kick out of them before grabbing the hem of Jaxon’s button-down and undressing him as well.
Damn, he’s pretty. All hard ridges and flat planes. Just enough hair to make him seem like a man.
Our eyes meet as I unbuckle his jeans, and it hits me that I’m going to see him naked for the first time. There’s a flash of something I would’ve sworn was uncertainty in his eyes, but it can’t be that. He’s been touted as a god amongst men enough times that there’s no way he’s self-conscious.
Unable to wait any longer, I shove down his briefs and jeans together, relishing the way Jaxon pulls me closer as he steps out of them.
At the press of his hard dick against my stomach, I give in to the urge to see all of him and peer down. Holy hugeness.
Jaxon is a tall guy, so maybe I should’ve expected this. Wait? Is there a correlation between height and—NOT NOW, IZZY!
“Come on,” Jaxon says, tugging me into the shower. He positions me just so, making sure the jets are aligned around my spine, and I drop my head against the wall as the water pounds into my back.
Jaxon cages me in with both arms as he drops his mouth to my nipple, his teeth and tongue move in a dance that has me begging for more.
I know I should be worried this doesn’t even feel weird anymore, but I just…can’t right now.
I drag my hands through his hair as he sucks—hard.
Fuck.
My body is on fire.
Stopping just long enough to turn off the jets, Jaxon gives me a slow smile before demanding, “Turn around, Iz. Hands on the wall.”
I do as I’m told, the grout lines in the wall against my palms almost too much for my overstimulated nerve endings to handle.
“God, you are—this is…” He trails off, before pressing against me, his cock sliding along the groove between my ass cheeks and nestling there. I rock my hips against him, and he lets out a low moan.
I smile at how good it feels to tease him.
He immediately reminds of who’s in control as he reaches between my legs and finds the wet and swollen bud of my clit.
“Yes,” I breathe as he works me, the heat of the shower bringing out sensations I’ve never even felt with a vibrator before.
I rock against him as he adds a second finger, the pressure just right, the tempo a steady pace that makes me weak.
“Neck,” he demands, and I tilt my head back so his lips can find the spot just below my ear.
He presses hard, almost desperately, against the skin there.
Breaking the connection, he slides to the side of me, his other hand slipping between my legs, too. He dips one digit in, then two, and after a second of exploration, finds that spot on my inner wall that has a pounding need building inside me.
Steam swirls around us, working in tandem with Jaxon to amplify my desire.
His fingers keep moving, and I’m almost there.
I’m so close.
“I’m…I’m…”
Instead of speeding up like the other men, Jaxon keeps his pace, those two fingers working my clit like it’s their sole purpose in life.
“You’re doing so good. So good, baby. You’re such a good girl.”
He bites my earlobe, gently, and…and…and…
“Fuck,” I say as I stop moving, lowering my forehead to lean against the wall in front of me.
Jaxon stops too, his fingers still inside me.
“Fuck,” I say again as tears pool in my eyes. I disentangle myself from him, never meeting his eyes, though I can feel him watching me.
Dropping into the corner of the shower, I pull my knees in close, wrapping my arms around them as the tears finally fall.
I sit there staring at my knees, sobbing, naked in the shower. It’s a low for fucking sure.
Jaxon turns off the water. Then I feel the warmth and smooth slide of his skin as he sits next to me. He puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him.
Rubbing light circles on my shoulder, he asks, “The cliff?”
I nod.
“It seemed…better this time?”
I nod again.
“We’ll get there, Iz,” he says softly. “We’re a team.”
That breaks something open in me, and I cry harder—choking, ugly sobs that taste like ten years of swallowed frustration and disappointment.
Jaxon doesn’t shy away, though. He sits there in the cooling shower, maintaining those slow circles.
A few times, his breathing changes, as if he’s about to say something, but he doesn’t. He just sits there with me, offering silent comfort as I cry.
Finally, I take a deep breath, my tears running out. “It’s a losing game. I’m broken.”
“I don’t believe that for a second, Iz. I’m not a doctor, but it feels like your body is doing what it’s supposed to. We’ll get there.”
“How?”
“I know you get uncomfortable when I talk about researching this, but I have been. And, based on everything I’ve heard and the sex therapist we reached out to, women’s orgasms are highly correlated with psychological factors.
How they feel about themselves, how they view sex overall, their willingness to release their inhibitions and control.
They all contribute to women’s orgasms.”
Great. So not only do I need to work on my body issues and my societally ingrained views on sex, but I also need to become a Natasha Bedingfield song. And Jaxon talked to a sex therapist about me. I’m not sure if I’m embarrassed or grateful. Both, I suppose.
“Well, that sounds easy enough,” I say sarcastically.
“Iz,” Jaxon says, kissing my forehead, even though he knows he’s not supposed to.
“You’re almost there. You’re smart, funny, and the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, so confidence isn’t an issue.
You devised a plan to get yourself what you wanted sexually, so you’ve got control.
You just have to be willing to give up that control. ”
Jaxon has a very different view of me than I have of myself, but arguing about whether or not I’m confident or in control feels counterproductive. And I’m too tired to argue. Instead, I ask, “And do you have any ideas how I do that?”
“I get you to trust me.”
I tilt my head to look at him. “I don’t not trust you.”
It’s the best I can do right now. I trust him to keep our secret. I trust him to be the guy who gives me an orgasm. I might even trust him enough to call him my friend right now. But I’m not sure I trust him enough to protect my heart.
“I know, Iz. I get it. I do,” he replies. “But I believe we’re going to get there.”
I tuck my face back into my knees. “So you can uphold your end of the bargain?”
Jaxon tugs lightly on my chin until I look him in the eyes again. “So I can earn back what I lost fifteen years ago.”
The soft look in his eyes, the regret there, tells me he means it.
“So what do we do now?” I ask.
“I carry you to my bed and cuddle with you until I fall asleep.”
It sounds like a terrible plan. It also sounds like the best plan I’ve ever heard.
And since I’m too emotionally tired to make any choices, I nod.
He wraps me in a plush towel and lifts me into his arms before carrying me to his bed. I snuggle down into the luxurious cocoon that is his sheets and smile when he crawls in behind me, pulling me tight against him.
“Goodnight, Jax,” I mumble.
“Goodnight, Iz. We’ll get there next time.”
And for the first time, it feels like maybe we will.
It also feels like I just might be starting to fall for this man.
Luckily, I know it’s fake.