Chapter Eighteen #2
Slow licks that made her hips lift instinctively.
Gentle suction that pulled a low, broken sound from her.
Circles, then flicks, then long, dragging strokes that built the heat in relentless, patient layers.
Every time she started to tremble—every time her thighs tensed and her breath turned ragged—he eased back just enough to let the edge recede, only to start again, slower, deeper, more focused.
The car moved smoothly through traffic; outside the windows the city blurred into streaks of light and shadow. Inside it was only this: the wet heat of his mouth, the soft, helpless sounds she couldn’t swallow, the low hum of the engine vibrating through the seat and into her bones.
Her body wound tighter and tighter—thighs shaking, stomach clenching, fingers gripping his hair so hard she was sure it hurt but he only groaned against her in response, the sound vibrating straight through her.
When she finally broke it was sudden and shattering—back bowing off the seat, thighs clamping around his head, a choked cry swallowed by the plush interior. Waves rolled through her, long and rolling, leaving her trembling and gasping, skin flushed and slick.
He kissed his way back up her body—settling beside her on the seat. Strong arms gathered her close, pulling her against his chest so her head tucked under his chin. His heartbeat was steady and loud against her ear, grounding her as her own slowly came back down.
She was glowing, loose-limbed, still flushed and glassy-eyed.
He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek, pressed a kiss to her temple.
“Better?” he asked, voice rough with restraint.
She laughed weakly. “Much.”
They arrived at the venue flushed and smiling—impossible to hide it. On the red carpet they couldn’t stop touching—his hand low on her back, her fingers brushing his sleeve, stolen glances that felt private even under a thousand flashes. Photographers ate it up. So did the fans.
Inside, she presented her segment flawlessly—voice steady, smile bright, introducing the next award with effortless charm. Jax watched from their table, arms folded, a small, proud smile tugging at his mouth.
The after-party was in a rooftop lounge—low lights, pulsing music, champagne flowing. They danced once, slow and close, his hand warm at the small of her back. Then he kissed her temple. “Need a drink. Back in two.”
She nodded, watching him disappear into the crowd.
That was when Min-Jae found her.
He emerged from the press of bodies, dark suit sharp. “Aria.”
“Min-Jae.”
“You were incredible up there. Always are.”
“Thank you.” Her voice stayed polite, guarded.
He stepped a little closer. “Things with Ji-Yeon… didn’t work out. We ended it a couple weeks ago.”
The words she’d waited months to hear landed strangely—flat, almost hollow. She waited for the rush of hope. It didn’t come.
“I’m sorry,” she said quietly, and meant it.
He searched her face. “I didn’t realize how much I’d miss you until I started seeing you everywhere. Tonight especially. You look… happy.”
She swallowed. “I’m doing okay.”
Before he could say more, Jax was back—two champagne flutes in hand, grin wide and bright.
“Hey,” he said cheerfully, stepping right up beside her and handing her a glass. “Got the good stuff.” He turned to Min-Jae with easy confidence. “Min-Jae. Killer track last month—had it on repeat during testing. Respect.”
Min-Jae blinked. “Thanks.”
Jax laughed lightly and slid his arm around Aria’s waist, pulling her snug against his side, thumb tracing over her hip. “You alright, babe? You seem quiet.”
The casual touch felt dialed up, possessive under the lights. She forced a small smile, but her shoulders stayed tense. “I’m fine. Just catching up.”
Jax’s grin held steady, though his grip tightened a fraction. “Yeah, of course.” He dropped a quick kiss to her temple, deliberate enough for anyone nearby to notice. “She’s had a big night. Can’t keep her all to myself too long.”
Min-Jae’s jaw ticked slightly. His gaze flicked from Jax’s arm to Aria’s face, uncertain. “Right. Enjoy the rest of the evening.”
Jax turned them away smoothly toward the dance floor. Once they were out of earshot, he leaned down, voice low against her ear. “You alright?”
She nodded too quickly. “Yeah.”
He studied her for a long second, then gave a small, tight nod. “I’ve got an early flight. Need to head back to the airport in about an hour. But I’ll see you in Melbourne in a few weeks?”
“I’ll be there.”
He kissed her—soft, lingering—then pulled back. “Text me when you’re home safe.”
After he left, Aria stood alone in the pulsing party, champagne untouched, the night suddenly feeling colder.
She kept scanning the crowd, eyes searching for the familiar height of his shoulders, the messy hair, the slow grin that had lit up the entire lobby earlier.
Every few seconds she caught herself doing it—looking for Jax, waiting for him to reappear through the bodies and pull her back against him like he had in the car.
Why had he left so suddenly?
The question looped in her head. She knew the answer—testing, the early flight, the team breathing down his neck—but it still stung.
She had wanted him to stay. Wanted the night to end with him in her bed again, tangled and quiet, the way it had in London.
Instead he was already gone, halfway back to the airport, and she was here alone with a glass she couldn’t bring herself to drink.
She hadn’t looked for Min-Jae once. Not when he’d walked away. Not when the crowd shifted around her. Not even now.
The realization hit her quietly, like a note resolving at the end of a song she hadn’t meant to write.
She was no longer waiting for her ex to come back.
She was waiting for Jax.
And that scared her more than anything else tonight.