Allie
It’s been three hours.
Three hours since I was sure I’d watch Jax—the kindest man I’ve ever met—get taken away in handcuffs. The very real, metal, not-at-all-fun kind.
And in the three hours since he didn’t end up behind bars? We haven’t moved. Not once. We’ve just sat here, in silence, while rain taps gently against the balcony door. My fingers keep drifting through his dark brown curls that now reach the tips of his ears.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask softly, smoothing his hair down.
He doesn’t answer right away. Doesn’t even move. For a second, I think he might’ve fallen asleep on me. But then he shifts slightly, adjusting his head like he’s either trying to get more comfortable or avoid the question altogether.
“That was my father.” He says it so final, like even he doesn’t believe it. And me? I definitely don’t. I could’ve sworn his father was dead. Whenever he mentioned him—which was extremely rare—it was always in the past tense. Or he’d dodge the subject completely.
That was his father?
I stay silent and resume running my fingers through his hair.
“He started drinking after he lost his job when I was thirteen.” His voice is faint, like he’s telling someone else’s story.
“He was never there for me or Millie. Hell, he wasn’t even there for Mum.
He’d steal her till money to the point we couldn’t afford milk.
He even tried to take my guitar a couple times, so we ended up keeping it at James’s place. ”
He pauses, drawing a long, shaky breath.
“Mum was hit by a drunk driver,” he admits, and it feels like my world stops spinning. “Right around the corner from where my lovely dad was, already half in the bag.”
My throat tightens, but I stay quiet.
I always wondered why he never talked about his dad the way he talked about his mom.
I figured they just weren’t close. But Jax is the kind of person who bottles things up so he can be there for everyone else.
Holding their burdens on his shoulders while his world crumbles.
And this just goes to show that when you do—everything explodes.
But, I’m also not going to throw that in his face right now.
So instead, I hold him and let him feel this in a safe way, and just be here for him.
I lean down, press a soft kiss just above his ear, and gently smooth his hair back into place. “I’m so sorry, Jax,” I whisper into the quiet air. Not because it fixes anything, but because he deserves to hear it. “That’s not something anyone should have to go through.”
At first he doesn’t say anything. Just sits there in the silence with my fingers running along his scalp.
He tilts his head slightly, his gaze meeting mine from the corner of his eye. I catch the flicker of a smile he’s trying to bite back, and raise a brow. “What?” I ask softly.
“Felt fucking good to hit him, though,” he murmurs.
My mouth falls open. “Jax,” I say, eyebrows lifting. “That’s not funny.”
“I know, I know,” he says quickly, holding up a hand in surrender. Then he turns fully in my lap, those beautiful blue eyes locking onto mine. “It just happened. I wasn’t even thinking.”
He reaches up, his fingers brushing lightly along my cheek, and my heart stutters. “It seems like every time we go away, something happens,” he murmurs.
I let out a soft laugh and sweep the fallen hair from his eyes. “Maybe we should just start staying home.”
He smiles wide and nods. “I’d love that,” he says. “Just you, me, the girls. We could make movie nights a more regular thing.”
At that, my chest tightens—but I’m not sure if it’s in a good way or not. Because as perfect as that sounds, we still don’t know if that can happen.
Not wanting to ruin the moment, I smile anyway. “I can’t wait.”
He carefully cups my cheek in his hand, and I lean into the touch, closing my eyes and drawing the deepest breath I can manage. “Everything will be okay, love. It’s only one more week.”
I nod slowly. When my eyes open again, I press a soft kiss to his palm.
“Speaking of,” he says, his thumb brushing lightly across my cheek, “who has the girls this year?”
“I have them for Thanksgiving. Trevor’s taking them for Christmas.”
He lifts a brow, the corners of his mouth tugging into a warm smile. “Can’t wait.”
“Are you ready for your first Thanksgiving?” I ask, smirking—because I already know the answer.
“Ehh…” He laughs. “Are you sure you want to host? The guys get pretty rowdy under the same roof. Especially when there’s food involved.”
I nod. “I’m actually looking forward to it. What’s better than watching you carve a turkey while I scold James to use a spoon for his mashed potatoes?”
He carefully lifts his head from my lap, then shifts, bracing himself on one arm as he gently coaxes me down until my back hits the pillows.
Looming over me, his eyes lock onto mine with that same mischievous grin lifting at the corners of his mouth.
“And what’s for dessert?”
My brows pull together. He just laid me back like I was made of glass, and now he wants to talk about what we’re having for dessert a week from now?
Before I can respond, the back of his hand glides slowly down my arm where my skin pebbles.
I blink up at him, still trying to follow the shift in conversation.
“Probably some apple pie,” I finally answer. “Why?”
His hand travels down until it lands on my thigh, and my eyes lock with his. “That sounds really good,” he says, and the way his voice just dropped like three octaves? Suddenly I’m not thinking about the damn apple pie anymore.
And as if he’s reading my mind, his hand shifts, slowly trailing higher until it pauses and his eyes are back on mine.
“What else?”
I raise a brow. “Maybe some ice cream?”
His hand inches just a little higher.
“Oh?” He slides up my dress, fingers hooking around either side of my panties—but then he pauses. “What kind?”
“V-Vanilla,” I rush out, breath hitching.
Heat pools between my legs as I watch his eyebrow raise.
Without hesitation, he tears them off, sending them flying to the floor.
God I love vanilla.
Then his hand is on the insides of my thighs, inching higher as my core pulses with need.
“Anything else?” he asks, biting back a grin.
“Chocolate pie,” I nearly shout from the anticipation.
Without warning, he plunges a finger deep inside of me, my pussy already clenching around it. A low moan vibrates in my throat as my body arches for more.
He chuckles, then removes his finger and brings it to his mouth, sucking it clean.
His eyes stay on mine when he scoots down and slowly pulls my knees apart, letting them fall on either side.
The second his gaze snaps to my already aching pussy, he lets out a hungry groan and lowers himself until he disappears between my thighs.
I wait patiently, waiting for some sort of relief, but am met with nothing.
Reaching down, I gently tug his hair and a smirk spreads along my lips.
“You know what goes great with chocolate pie?” I ask teasingly.
“Tell me” he says, his breath fanning against my wetness.
I bring my lip between my teeth and utter, “Whipped cream.”
The second his tongue swipes inside me, my eyes roll back. He licks, and sucks on my clit, feeling so good my hips buck off the bed.
He adds a finger and I start seeing stars, already feeling the heat pooling low in my belly.
Then he stops—
My head snaps up, ready to full on fight him because I don’t want to list any more damn dessert. I want him inside of me. Now.
My complaint dies on my tongue when I meet his eyes and watch him snap his belt off.
Without looking away, my hands find the hem of my dress and quickly tear it off.
I don’t miss the way his eyes practically turn into those cartoon hearts when they land on my breasts since I wasn’t wearing a bra tonight.
He shakes his head slowly. “God,” he rasps. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
I sit up on my elbows, tilting my head at him. “Just fuck me, Jax.”
He chuckles low, his hands landing on either side of me the second his pants hit the floor.
“Yes ma’am.”
His hands slide behind my knees, pulling me effortlessly to the edge of the bed before flipping me like it’s nothing.
It’s not time at all before the tip of his dick just barely brushes against my swollen clit and I cry out. My head dangles, my hair falling over my face as I purposely back myself closer to him.
“God, you’re so wet,” he says from behind me.
He keeps rubbing his tip along my clit as he dips one finger inside of me, curling until my vision blurs and I can’t take the teasing anymore.
I flip my hair over my shoulder to look back at him, ready to tell him to just fuck me already when a slow smirk pulls at his lips. Then he removes his finger, plants both hands on my hips, and finally thrusts himself into me.
He slowly backs out, almost to the point of slipping out of me.
“You know what my favorite part is about this position?” he asks slowly.
I don’t answer, my words are too caught in my throat to form. Instead, I wait as patiently as I can, and glance over my shoulder at him.
He smirks. “It’s watching myself disappear inside of you. Seeing how well you take this dick,” he rasps.
And then it’s like a flip switches.
His thrusts turn relentless, holding onto my hips for dear life. The headboard smashes against the wall, and I honestly don’t even care.
Jax reaches around until his fingers lands square on my clit, rubbing hard circles when my orgasm crashes through me so hard and so unexpectedly, I can’t help but cry out his name.
“That’s it baby,” he coos, picking up the speed.
He slams into me a few more times, then his thrusts slow, a low grunt leaving his throat. He slips out slowly, then presses a kiss between my shoulders and helps me lay on my side.
My eyes drift closed as I listen to the soft patter of Jax moving in and out of the bathroom. They stay shut when the bed shifts beneath me—until a cold cloth brushes against my still-sensitive skin, and they snap open.
I smirk when my eyes meet his.
“You know,” I say through barely open lids, “we can’t keep having sex every time something bad happens.”
He chuckles. “Why not? Seems like the perfect stress reliever to me.”
I roll my eyes but can’t help smiling. “Stress reliever, huh?”
He shrugs and tosses the cloth in the nearby laundry bin. Then he crawls in behind me and pulls me close against him. My back flush with his chest, our body heat radiating off of each other as well both let out long breathes.
Maybe tomorrow will be better.