Chapter 23 Sloane
SLOANE
We walk back to the house hand in hand, and I see two trucks pull up. People pile out, voices call out greetings, and then I see Riley’s car behind them.
“You really did invite them.”
“Told you. We’re doing this right.”
Riley and Maggie get out of the car, and Riley immediately wolf-whistles when she sees me and Jax holding hands.
“Look at you two,” she calls. “So cute I might vomit.”
Maggie smacks her arm, but she’s grinning too.
Jax’s family is staring at us with various expressions of curiosity and amusement.
“Everyone,” Jax announces, his arm around my waist. “This is Sloane. My girlfriend.”
Girlfriend.
The word makes my heart soar.
“And these are her people. Her sister Maggie and her best friend Riley.”
“Welcome.” A tiny woman who can only be his grandmother pushes through the crowd. “You must be the girl who’s had my grandson moping around for weeks. Get in here, let me look at you.” She pulls me into a hug before I can respond, and she smells like cookies and perfume and home.
“She’s perfect,” she announces to everyone. “I approve.”
“You haven’t even talked to her yet, Grams,” one of Jax’s brothers says.
“Don’t need to. I can see it in her eyes. She loves him. That’s all that matters.” She pulls back and looks at me. “You do love him, right?”
“Yes, ma’am. Very much,” I answer.
“Good. Then come inside. All of you. It’s freezing out here, and I didn’t spend all day cooking for you to stand around in the snow.”
And just like that, we’re swept inside. Into warmth and noise and family and chaos.
Jax’s mom hugs me and does cry. His dad shakes my hand firmly.
Everett immediately goes to Riley, and I see the spark between them.
His brothers all tease Jax mercilessly about finally bringing a girl home.
Maggie fits right in, talking to Jax’s mom about the business and the town.
And through it all, Jax keeps his hand in mine.
Keeping me close. Making sure I feel included. Making sure I know I belong.
“This is overwhelming,” I whisper to him during a quiet moment.
“Want to escape?”
“No. I love it. It’s perfect.”
And it is.
It’s loud and chaotic and completely different from my own family dinners. But it’s warm. Real. Full of laughter and love and acceptance.
This is what family should feel like.
Hours later, after dinner and dessert and way too much wine, after Jax’s grandmother has interrogated me about my intentions, after Riley and Everett spent the evening flirting, and after Maggie has bonded with Jax’s mom over recipes, everyone finally starts to leave.
“You’re staying, right?” Jax asks quietly as we say goodbye to his family.
“If that’s okay.”
“More than okay. I don’t want you to leave.”
“I have to go back to Denver at some point to pack. Get things in order.”
“But tonight? Stay with me tonight.”
“Okay.”
Riley and Maggie hug me goodbye. They have been put up in one of the inns for Christmas.
“So?” Riley asks. “Was it everything you hoped?”
“Better,” I admit. “So much better.”
“Good. You deserve it.” She hugs Jax, too. “Take care of her. Or I’ll hunt you down.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says seriously.
After everyone leaves, it’s just us. Finally.
The house is quiet except for the crackling fire. Snow is falling outside the windows. And Jax is looking at me like I’m the best Christmas present he’s ever received.
“Hi,” I say softly.
“Hi.”
“This is real, right? This is happening?”
“It’s happening.” He pulls me into his arms. “You’re here. You’re moving here. We’re doing this.”
“I’m terrified.”
“Me too.”
“But also, really happy.”
“Me too.” He kisses the top of my head. “Merry Christmas, Sloane.”
“Merry Christmas, Jax.”
We stand there swaying slightly, holding each other, and I think about how different this Christmas is from last year. How much has changed. How much I’ve changed. Last year, I was with Chett, pretending to be happy, making myself smaller. This year I’m with Jax, feeling seen, becoming braver.
“What are you thinking about?” he asks.
“How lucky I am. How a snowstorm and a wrong turn led me exactly where I’m supposed to be.”
“I was thinking the same thing.” He pulls back to look at me. “I love you.”
“I love you too.”
“Come to bed. It’s late. You must be exhausted.”
“I am. But I had other ideas.” I wink at him.
“Yes, ma’am.” He chuckles, scooping me up in his arms as he rushes off to his bedroom. He carries me up the stairs like I weigh nothing, and I’m laughing against his neck, pressing kisses to his jaw.
“You know I can walk, right?”
“Not fast enough,” he growls, kicking the bedroom door open. He sets me down next to the bed, and suddenly the playfulness shifts. The air between us crackles with tension and want and weeks of pent-up longing. “Sloane,” he breathes, his hands framing my face. “Are you sure? We don’t have to …”
I cut him off with a kiss. Deep and demanding. Showing him exactly how sure I am. “I’m sure,” I whisper against his lips. “I want you. It’s been too long.”
“Thank fuck, my hand had been getting sore.” He groans, and then his mouth is on mine again.
This kiss is different from the ones outside. This is hungry. Desperate. Claiming. His hands slide under my sweater, warm against my skin, and I gasp into his mouth.
“Off,” I demand, tugging at his flannel.
He pulls back just long enough to yank it over his head, and oh, I’d forgotten how good he looks. All hard muscle and golden skin and that trail of hair disappearing into his jeans that makes my mouth water.
“Your turn,” he says, his voice rough with desire. I pull off my sweater and bra in one motion, and his eyes go dark. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”
“You’ve seen me naked before.”
“Doesn’t matter. I could see you a thousand times and I’d still be stunned every single time.” His hands cup my breasts, thumbs brushing over my nipples, and I arch into his touch.
“Jax …”
“I know, baby. I’ve got you.”
He walks me backward until my knees hit the bed, then gently pushes me down. I scoot back, watching as he strips off the rest of his clothes. And yeah. I remembered that correctly.
“Stop staring,” he says, but he’s grinning.
“Never.”
He crawls over me, settling between my legs, and his weight feels right.
Perfect. “I missed this,” he murmurs, pressing kisses down my neck.
“Missed you. Missed having you in my bed.” He takes his time.
Learning me all over again. Reacquainting himself with every curve and hollow. Making me squirm and gasp and beg.
“Jax, please …”
“Please, what?” he growls.
“Stop teasing.”
“But you’re so pretty when you’re desperate.” He nips at my hip bone. “And I’ve been waiting weeks for this. I’m going to savor it.”
“You’re evil.”
“You love it.” He chuckles.
And I do. God, I do.
When he finally strips off my jeans and underwear, when his mouth finds me where I need him most, I nearly come off the bed.
“Fuck …” My hands fist in his hair.
He chuckles against me, the vibration making me moan. “That’s it, baby. Let me hear you. No one’s here to tell you to be quiet.”
And that reminder that I don’t have to hold back, don’t have to make myself smaller or quieter, breaks something loose in me.
I let go. Let myself be loud. Demanding.
Greedy. And Jax loves it. Encourages it.
Drives me higher and higher until I’m shaking, gasping his name, coming apart under his tongue.
“Beautiful,” he murmurs, kissing his way back up my body. “So, fucking beautiful.”
I pull him down for a kiss, tasting myself on his lips. “Need you inside me. Now.”
“Condom …”
“I’m on birth control. I’m clean. Unless you want to …” I say, nibbling my lip.
“Fuck no. I want to feel you. All of you.” His forehead rests against mine. “You sure?”
“I’m sure. I trust you.”
Something in his expression shifts. Softens. “I love you.”
“I love you too. Now stop talking and fuck me.”
He grins, positioning himself. “Yes, ma’am.”
When he pushes inside, we both groan. It’s been weeks, and the stretch burns in the best way. He stills, letting me adjust, his entire body tense with restraint.
“Are you okay?” he asks.
“So okay. Move. Please move.”
He does. Slow at first, deep strokes that have me clinging to his shoulders. But I don’t want slow. Don’t want gentle.
“Harder,” I demand. “I’m not going to break.”
“Thank fuck.” He shifts the angle, drives deeper, and I cry out. “That’s it. Take it, baby. Take everything.”
And I do. I meet him thrust for thrust, wrapping my legs around his waist and pulling him impossibly close. My nails rake down his back hard enough to leave marks.
“Mine,” he growls in my ear. “You’re mine now.”
“Yours,” I gasp. “Always yours.”
The words push him over some edge. He pounds into me harder, faster, and I love it. Love the loss of control. Love how he makes me feel, wanted, cherished, claimed.
“Touch yourself,” he demands. “I want to feel you come around me.”
I slide my hand between us, circling my clit, and the added sensation makes me moan.
“That’s my girl. So, fucking perfect.”
The combination of his words, his cock, and my fingers is too much. I come with a cry, clenching around him, and he follows immediately, groaning my name as he spills inside me. We collapse together, sweaty and satisfied and perfect.
“Holy shit,” I breathe.
“Yeah.” He’s still inside me, not pulling out yet. “That was …”
“Amazing.”
“I was going to say life-altering, but yeah. Amazing works too.” He kisses me softly. “Welcome home, sweetheart.”
I smile against his lips. “Happy to be here.”
We stay like that for a long moment before he carefully pulls out and gets a warm cloth to clean us up. When he comes back to bed, I curl into his side immediately.
“So,” he says, running his fingers through my hair. “You’re really moving here.”
“I am.”
“And we’re doing this. For real.”
“For real.”
“Good.” He pulls the blankets over us. “Because I’m never letting you go.”
“Good,” I echo. “Because I’m not going anywhere.”
We lay there in the dark, wrapped around each other, and I think about how different my life is now. How much has changed since that storm.
“Jax?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For saving me. Not just from the storm.”
“You saved yourself, Sloane. I just reminded you how strong you already were.” He kisses the top of my head. “Now get some sleep. Tomorrow’s Christmas, and my grandmother will be here early, demanding to make breakfast.”
I laugh softly. “Can’t wait.”
And I mean it.
I fall asleep in Jax’s arms, in his bed, in what will soon be our home, happier than I’ve been in years.
Maybe ever.