Chapter 7 Jaylynn
Jaylynn
Balancing the tray in my hands, I fumble for my key, trying not to send two plates of breakfast skidding to the Inn’s floor. My body shifts, and muscles I didn’t know I had tug tight and my brain instantly takes me back to last night.
Holy God, when was the last time I was touched like that? Never. Not like that. Tender and wild, deliberate and devastating. Penn unravelled me and put me back together, twice. Twice. I hate to even admit that in the past I was always left finishing the job myself.
Is all sex supposed to feel like that?
It wasn’t with Dylan. Nor with that cringe-worthy college hookup. I’ve been basing my entire sex barometer on those two disasters, and wow… colossal mistake.
Maybe it was good because Penn and I bonded over being the unwilling stars of viral social media humiliation. Or maybe it was the ticking clock and our complete surrender to it. But when he’d said it was all about him first, I hadn’t expected him to drop to his knees and slip between mine.
For a moment, I’d braced for my ex’s move—take what you want, leave her cold. But no. Penn had taken pleasure in pleasuring me. Either he’s one of a kind, or I’m in some peppermint fantasy.
A door opens behind me, jerking me back to reality. “Morning, Jaylynn.” I shift, and the tray wobbles dangerously. Jaxon’s gaze drops to it. “Oh, shit. Let me help.”
Relief floods me as he takes it. “Thanks. Just let me get the door.”
I slip the key in, conscious of the nightgown I’d been hoping could pass as a casual dress.
I nudge the door open with my foot, hand reaching for the tray.
“When did you get in?” I ask, trying for breezy, though one of his teammates is very much in my bed.
Penn and I are faking a relationship, so I guess Jaxon will soon find out.
“Late last night. I’m only here for the weekend. Games right up until the twenty-second.” He keeps hold of the tray. “Hey,” he says, voice dipping a notch, “I’m sorry about…well, you know.”
“Yeah. I know.”
“Mom said you’re running the festival this year.”
I nod.
“It’s going to be amazing.” His smile is warm, reassuring. I hope he’s right. I need this to go flawlessly. And when I think of Penn, somehow wrangling himself onto the float as Santa, a grin tugs at my mouth.
“I can take that,” I say, trying to wrestle the tray from Jaxon without sending our breakfast airborne.
“It’s fine, I’ll carry it in.” Before I can argue, he’s balancing it effortlessly on one palm and nudging the door open. “How many people are you feeding?” he teases, then freezes mid-step. “Oh. Hey, Penn. Shit, sorry. I didn’t realize.”
I’m still half in the hallway when Penn’s low, sleepy voice drifts out. “It’s okay. Need a hand with that?”
Dear God, please don’t get up. He’s still naked.
“No, uh, I got it,” Jaxon says quickly. I don’t know why my cheeks are burning. We’re consenting adults, for crying out loud.
“Didn’t realize you were back in town,” Jaxon says.
“Yeah. Just laying low.” His voice has that edge—awkward, careful. Is it because of the Santa fiasco? Because he’s naked in my bed? Or something else entirely? Why do I sense that it’s something else entirely?
I push into the room. Penn’s gaze locks on me. “Breakfast,” I announce a little too brightly, my cheeriness about as subtle as a marching band at eight a.m.
“I’ll just get out of your way.” Jaxon moves past me. “See you guys later.”
“Beer tent!” I blurt out like an idiot. “Be there or be square.” Oh my God. Did I just channel my grandfather? From him, such a saying is charming. From me, I sound like the town weirdo.
“You bet,” Jaxon says, and slips out.
The door clicks shut, and my eyes dart back to Penn. “Sorry about that.” He watches me, brow knit, then pulls his knees up, resting his hands there. “Coffee,” I say, because that’s safe ground, and start pouring two oversized mugs.
He takes his. “Thanks, Jay.”
I set the plates on the little table. “Hope you’re hungry. I went overboard.” I glance back. He’s staring into his coffee like it holds the secrets of the universe.
“Everything okay? I know that was awkward, but… we are pretending. Jaxon is going to find out we’re a couple.”
He shakes his head. “Yeah, you’re right.”
Then he throws back the sheets and stands, stark naked, morning glory on full display.
Well. Hello.
“I’ll just make a quick trip to the bathroom,” he says casually, leaving me gripping my coffee like it’s a lifeline.
I watch his very fine backside disappear into the bathroom, but a knot twists in my stomach. Call it intuition, but something tells me there’s… something between him and Jaxon. And not the good kind of something.
I drown my pancake in syrup while I wait. When the door finally opens, he’s tugging on sweats, settling across from me like nothing happened. I sip my coffee, studying him.
It’s none of my business—this is all fake, after all—but the words slip out anyway. “You don’t like Jaxon.”
His head snaps up. “What? No. Jaxon’s a great guy.”
“Then why was all that…” I wave from the bed to the abandoned breakfast tray “…so awkward?”
“We just… I don’t know. I haven’t been on the team long.”
It’s not his words I read, but the weight in them.
“You just don’t know him well,” I say, though what I’m hearing feels bigger.
This isn’t about Jaxon—it’s about Penn. He hasn’t bonded with his teammates.
He’s worried about losing his spot. And maybe—just maybe—he’s never been the bonding type. He wasn’t in high school, either.
The boy from the edge of town with the eccentric aunt, the parade of ferrets and now cats, and six husbands. Maybe he simply never learned how to fit in with the guys. A thought lodges deep in my chest. Over the holidays, I’m going to give him what he needs. Whether he likes it or not.
He bites into his pancake, eyes brightening. “These are amazing. Didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
Heat creeps up my neck. “We did burn a lot of energy last night.”
A slow grin curves his mouth. “Yeah. We did.”
My phone pings from the nightstand. “Here we go,” I mutter, already bracing for disaster number twelve of the week. One glance and yep. “They need more craft paper for the kids’ art fest this afternoon.”
“They text you for that?”
“I’m the catch-all person.” I take a much-needed sip of coffee. “I have to check in with the craft vendors and make sure they have everything before the doors open to the public anyway. Feel like shopping?”
He makes a face. “Craft fairs and shopping. Only my favorite things in the world. But yeah, sure.”
“I also have to pick out the town square tree and get it set up.”
“I thought you’d never ask.” His tone is mock-grumpy, but there’s something in his eyes—interest. Maybe even excitement.
“Have you even been tree shopping, or did you just cut down your own?” I ask.
A pained look comes over his face. “Elaine always had ferrets, and they had an aversion to trees so we never put one up.” I open my mouth, to tell him I’m sorry, but he hurries out with, “We still had a nice Christmas, until…” His words fall off for a moment, and then he brightens up and asks, “When’s the lighting? ”
“Next weekend. Right after the parade.”
He shakes his head, almost laughing. “I still can’t believe I’m going to be Santa.”
I chuckle. “Did I thank you for that?”
He glances down at the rumpled sheets, then back up at me. “I believe so. But that’s kind of a big deal, so more thanking will definitely be needed.”
I pick up a grape and flick it at him.
“Hey. That’s grape assault.”
“Grape assault, huh? What’s the punishment for that crime?”
Before I can blink, he’s on his feet, tugging me up with him, pressing me back against the hideous striped wall.
“Well,” he murmurs low, his breath hot against my ear, “First, it requires me to kiss the living hell out of you. And second…”
His lips crash onto mine, deep and hungry. My legs go weak as his tongue slides inside, exploring like last night was just a warm-up, like he’s been starving for more. He breaks the kiss, chest heaving, eyes dark and smoldering as they roam my face.
“Second?” I prompt breathlessly, desperate to hear the rest.
His grin is wicked enough to scare the creepy elf. “How about I just show you?”
His lips move toward mine again, slow and deliberate.
“Does it involve spanking?” I tease, bolder than I’d ever been before.
He freezes, a rough sound caught deep in his throat. “Jesus, girl. You really do belong on the naughty list, don’t you?”
I press my hips forward, bumping against the growing hardness beneath his sweats. He captures my hands and puts them above my head. “Actually? I think I belong on you.”
That pulls a low, guttural growl from him, wrapping around me like fire, setting me on edge until the world narrows to just us. Suddenly, one of my hands is free, and he tugs on my pajama pants with slow, possessive fingers until they brush the lace of my panties.
“Well, since I’m already on the naughty list,” I breathe out. “I might as well take full advantage of it... meaning, take advantage of you.”
With a quick, fierce motion, he yanks my panties down from my hips. I gasp, and before I can catch my breath, his mouth covers mine, swallowing the sound, claiming me.
No man has ever ripped my panties off before.
It’s raw, fierce, and insanely erotic—like a shot of adrenaline straight to my core.
He pulls down his sweats just enough to free his hard, aching erection.
The next thing I know, I’m weightless, lifted against the wall, my legs wrapped tight around him.
Holy God. What the hell is happening to me? I don’t know, but now is definitely not the time to be questioning it.
“Penn,” I whisper, mind spinning.
“Fuck, wait. Condom.”
“Right,” I say. But just as he’s about to set me down and shatter this electric moment, I stop him. “I’m clean and protected. Nexplanon.”
He’s breathing hard when he replies, “I’m clean too, Jay. Tested regularly. And it’s been a while.”
I cock a disbelieving brow. “I read the papers.”
He snorts out a disgruntled laugh. “Don’t believe everything you read.”
I don’t know why it makes me happy to know he’s not a man-whore. “Except for Thanksgiving trauma and decking Santa.”
“Truth.” His gaze sharpens, all humor gone from his voice when he asks, “You sure, Jay?”
“I’m sure.”
And with that, he pulls me closer, sinking into me in one seamless, breathtaking motion.
“Oh, God,” I groan as every muscle clenches around him. I wrap my arms tight, surrendering as he moves me against the wall, sliding me up and down his cock with effortless power.
It’s wild. Crazy. Nothing like anything I’ve ever known, and suddenly something I want every single day. Every hour.
He pounds into me and I bite down lightly on his shoulder, eliciting a raw grunt that sends a shiver racing through my core. There’s something primal in that sound, something so utterly masculine it makes me tremble. He moans, and I know, he feels it too.
With every hard thrust, my clit grinds against his pelvis, and I’m blown away by how fast he’s driving me toward the edge. Is it the heat of skin on skin? The urgent pulse between us? Or just that this is Penn—unforgettable, untamed Penn?
I hold him tighter, nails digging into his flesh as he pushes me higher and higher, filling me deep, hitting my cervix with every powerful stroke. When I let go, my juices slick down his pistoning cock, and the world falls away.
“Jesus, yes,” he murmurs. “Jay, you feel so damn good.”
He clutches me close, mouth trailing fire along my neck as he moves—seeking more than release, more than just the physical. Then his whole body tightens, shudders, and he lets go.
I gasp, breathless. “I feel you. I feel everything.”
He presses into me, slow and heavy, his warmth flooding through every inch of me. And in that moment, I know—this man just might ruin me for anyone else.