Chapter 23
I notice it the first time because it shouldn’t matter.
It’s nothing. Just her hand brushing my arm when she passes me on her way to the kitchen, her fingers light, barely there, like she didn’t mean to touch me at all.
But my body reacts like she put a knife to my throat.
Everything locks. Not violent. Not aggressive.
Still. Tight. Controlled in a way that isn’t control at all, it’s containment.
I don’t move. Don’t look at her. Don’t acknowledge it.
But I feel it. Every inch of it. The heat where her fingers touched.
The echo of it under my skin like something just woke up that I’ve spent years keeping buried.
She keeps moving like nothing happened. Like she didn’t just knock something loose inside me.
Good. Better that way.
I shift my stance slightly, grounding myself back into something solid, something familiar.
The room comes back into focus. Noise, voices, movement.
The usual rhythm of the clubhouse settling back in around me like it’s supposed to.
It doesn’t stick. Because she does it again. Later. Different angle. Same impact.
She leans past me to grab something off the counter, her shoulder brushing mine this time. Close enough that I catch the scent of her shampoo, something clean and soft that doesn’t belong in a place like this but fits her anyway.
My hand curls at my side. Not grabbing. Not reaching. Just reacting. I step back. Not obvious. Not something anyone else would catch. But it’s there. Distance. Control.
She glances at me when she straightens, just for a second, like she’s checking. Like she knows. I don’t react. Don’t give her anything. But she saw it. I know she did. That’s the problem.
It builds.
Slow. Steady. Every interaction stacks on top of the last one. Her laugh from across the room when Blaze says something stupid. The way she tilts her head when she’s listening, like she’s trying to understand not just the words but the people behind them.
The way she looks at me. That one is worse than the touch. Because she’s not looking at me like everyone else does. Not cautious. Not wary. Not trying to figure out how dangerous I am. She’s figuring me out. Like I’m something she can learn. That doesn’t sit right. That doesn’t sit wrong either.
It just… is.
Dinner makes it worse.
We all end up around the long table, food spread out in a way that looks chaotic but isn’t. Plates passed, voices overlapping, kids still loud even when they’re supposed to be settling down.
Olivia sits across from me at first. That’s fine. Distance. Control. Then someone shifts, someone moves, and suddenly she’s beside me instead. Close. Not touching. But close enough that I feel the heat of her body without trying.
I focus on the plate in front of me. On the food. On anything that isn’t her. It doesn’t work.
“You actually eat?” she says suddenly, her voice quiet enough that it doesn’t carry across the table.
I glance at her.
She’s watching me. Curious. Not pushing. Just asking.
“Sometimes.”
Her lips twitch slightly. “That’s reassuring.”
I huff a breath that might be the closest thing to a laugh I’ve given all day. “Didn’t think you’d be picky.”
“I’m not,” she says. “I just didn’t expect you to sit down and have a normal conversation.”
“Who says this is normal?” She tilts her head, considering that.
“Fair point.” There’s a pause. Not awkward. Not forced.
Then she asks, “Did you always live like this?”
I take a second before answering. “Not always.”
“That’s not really an answer.”
“It’s the one you’re getting.”
She studies me like she might push. Then she doesn’t. “That’s okay,” she says instead. “I’m not going anywhere.” The words land harder than they should. Not because of what they mean. Because of how easily she says them. Like it’s already decided. Like she’s not fighting it. Like she’s choosing it.
Blaze leans back in his chair, watching us with too much interest. “Well, fuck,” he says, dragging the words out. “That’s the most I’ve heard him say in one sitting since we met him when we were teenagers.” A few laughs ripple around the table.
I don’t react. Don’t look at him.
But Olivia does. Her smile widens slightly, something warmer there now, something that wasn’t there before. “Guess I bring out the best in you,” she says, just loud enough for me to hear.
My jaw tightens. Not in anger. Something else.
Night settles in slow.
The clubhouse quiets piece by piece. Kids get put to bed. Voices drop. The constant movement fades into something softer, something that sits instead of rushes. We end up back in my room. Just us. The room feels different now. Smaller. Not because it changed. Because we did.
She stands near the window, looking out like she’s trying to process everything that happened today. The way she moved through the clubhouse. The way the women accepted her. The way the men didn’t push but didn’t ignore her either.
The way I…
I stop that thought before it finishes.
She turns. Looks at me. Not quick. Not careful. Direct. There’s no fear in it. No hesitation. Something else. Something that says she’s choosing this. Choosing to stand here. Choosing to be in this room. Choosing me. That’s what breaks it. Not the touch. Not the laugh. Not the way she fits.
This.
Her choice.
“Fuck it.” The words are out before I think about them. I move. Fast. Close the distance between us in two steps. My hand comes up to her jaw, firm, controlled, not rough but not gentle either, holding her where I want her.
Her breath catches. Her eyes don’t leave mine.
I don’t give her time to think. I take her mouth. It’s not soft. Not careful. It’s everything I’ve been holding back all day snapping forward at once. Need. Pressure. Control turning inward instead of out.
She responds immediately. No hesitation.
No pulling away. Her hands come up, gripping my shirt, pulling me closer like she’s been waiting for this too.
That’s what kills the last thread of control I had left.
There’s no stopping point anymore. No space to pull back into something controlled and distant and safe.
Because this isn’t safe. This is exactly what I’ve been avoiding.
And I don’t give a shit.
I deepen the kiss, pushing into it, taking more, demanding more, and she gives it right back without faltering. Matches me. Meets me. That shouldn’t happen. It does. And I’m done pretending it doesn’t matter.
I stand up in front of her, my six-foot-four frame towering over her.
If I had to guess, I'd say she was only about five-foot-three.
I wrap a hand around her ass, picking her up, so she's eye level with me, while my other slips around the back of her neck. Pulling her lips to mine, I’m like a starving man wanting another taste of her sinful lips.
They're soft, and as I slip my tongue through them tasting her, I groan in satisfaction.
She's just as sweet as I imagined she would be.
A small moan escapes her lips, and my dick is rock hard. Taking a few steps, I brace her against the wall. My mouth releases hers as I trail a line down her neck, biting and tasting each inch of her skin while her nails dig into my biceps.
Letting her slide down from the wall, my hands catch the hem of her shirt and I drag it over her head.
Her tits are cupped in black lace and, fuck, it's sexy.
Popping the button on her jeans, I ease them to the floor, matching black panties taunt me and my dick strains so hard against the zipper of my jeans that it's fucking painful.
Taking her hand, I lead her over to the bed and sit down. She's standing in front of me in her bra, and panties. "Take off the bra, slowly."
Her hands reach up, sliding down the straps, so they hang and expose more of her.
Reaching around her back she pops the clasps, and it falls to the floor exposing her perfect round tits.
I grab her hips and pull her to me. She's at the perfect height right now as I take her nipple into my mouth, a surprised sound of pleasure comes from her as her hands grip my head.
I slip my hands around, grabbing her ass and holding her to me as I take advantage of having my mouth on her.
I can smell her pussy, and it's driving me fucking crazy.
Dipping my head, I bite her skin through the lace of her panties, and her knees buckle a bit, but I hold her up. "Fuck, I need to taste you." I stand up. "Take my clothes off."
Her tiny hands pull my shirt over my head, and I watch as her eyes take in my tattoos. After a minute, she works my belt off and slips my jeans and briefs down at the same time, her nails brushing my skin and sending chills to every part of my body.
I push her onto the bed enjoying the way she looks sprawled out on my sheets. Bending slowly, I settle my head in between her legs, dipping down, I take the lace in my teeth and tug as she shivers and lifts her ass up for me.
I brace my hands on her thighs, opening her to me completely.
Running my tongue up her, she almost jumps off the damn bed.
Looking up, I see the need on her face, and it sets me on fire.
I slide my thumb over her clit then dip my tongue inside of her.
Rubbing her sensitive spot and fucking her with my tongue, I can almost instantly feel her entire body start to tense.
“Oh fuck!” she screams as she comes and I lap up every bit of it, loving the way she tastes.
I look up at her and see the desire in her eyes. I want her so fucking bad. I grab a condom from my nightstand, slipping it on and then positioning myself at her opening. She arches toward me, and I slip in just a bit.
"I'm gonna tell you my name, and then I'm gonna take you. It isn’t gonna be slow and sweet. I feel like I’ve been waiting for you my whole goddamn life. No one else gets that only you Olivia. Because you’re mine." Her eyes widen at my admission. "My name is Jaxon Hayes."
Shock crosses her face, and I slam into her at the same time.
Her hands slide up my chest, but I take them and lean forward holding them above her head before starting to drive into her hard and fast. Her moans get louder and quicker as my soul crushing need comes to the surface.
Her thighs tighten around me, and I know that after this build up, I won't last too much longer either.
I pull out, flipping her over before she can even question me. Pulling her ass up, I have her on all fours. My hand crashes down against her ass and she yelps. "Fuck, you're as good as I imagined you'd be." I slam into her again, and she moans, her hands gripping the sheets.
I reach around playing with her clit needing her to finish before I do. I pinch the bundle of nerves between my fingers, and she screams, her pussy squeezing me in a heavenly death grip. “Say my name. I wanna fucking hear it.” I pinch harder this time.
“Jaxon!” she cries out as she climaxes.
"Fuck." Her screaming my name was the final nail in the coffin. I explode as I fuck her harder than I ever thought was possible.
I release my grip on her, and she falls to the bed. Looking down at her sated expression is something I dreamed of. I stand up, pulling off the condom and then pulling her to me.
There’s no way I’ll ever be able to let her go.
Later, the room is quiet again. Not tense. Not sharp. Different.
She’s curled into me, her head tucked against my chest like it belongs there, her breathing slow and even in a way I didn’t expect to hear tonight.
My arm is wrapped around her, holding her close without thinking about it, without questioning it. This feels right in a way that nothing else has in a long fucking time. My body isn’t tight. My mind isn’t running through threats and exits and worst-case scenarios. It’s quiet.
Completely.
For the first time in years… I sleep. Not half-aware. Not ready to wake at the slightest shift. Not waiting for something to go wrong. I sleep. Because she’s here. Because she’s in my arms. Because something in me knows… nothing’s getting to her.
And for the first time…
Nothing’s getting to me either.