CHAPTER 27
Anna
I woke slowly, my senses returning in fragments. Warmth first, then the solid weight of an arm draped over me, then the steady rhythm of breathing against my neck.
Jaxon.
The memories of last night flooded back in a rush that sent heat blooming across my cheeks, his hands on my skin, his body moving with mine, the way he'd looked at me like I was something precious, something worth worshipping.
That actually happened.
His body was pressed against my back, his strong arms wrapped tightly around me, holding me close to his broad chest like he was afraid I might disappear if he loosened his grip.
His hand had slipped beneath the shirt I wore—his shirt—and rested splayed across my bare stomach.
The heat of his palm spread through my skin and settled low in my belly.
I could feel every point where our bodies connected: the solid wall of his chest against my back, his thighs tucked behind mine, and the unmistakable evidence of his morning arousal pressed against my backside, separated only by the thin fabric of his boxers and my underwear.
As I stretched languidly, testing the faint soreness in muscles I'd forgotten I had, his grip tightened reflexively, pulling me closer. His body was a furnace of heat against mine, sending delicious tingles racing along my nerves and making me acutely aware of every inch of bare skin touching his.
Morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft, golden glow across the bedroom. Dust motes danced in the sunbeam slanting across the bed, and everything felt hazy and dreamlike, too perfect to be real.
But it was real. He was real. This was real.
Jaxon shifted behind me, his arm tightening slightly before he leaned into the crook of my neck. His lips traced a slow, sensual path up to my temple, feather-light and soothing. A quiet reassurance that he was awake and fully present in this intimate moment.
My breath caught at the tenderness of it. After everything last night, the passion, the intensity, the way we'd come together again and again until we were both utterly spent, I'd half-expected awkwardness this morning. Some sign that he regretted it, that it had been a mistake.
But there was no hesitation in his touch. Only affection. Only certainty.
"Good morning," he murmured against my skin, his deep voice low and rich, still rough with sleep in a way that did absolutely sinful things to my insides.
The rumble of his words vibrated pleasantly through his chest against my back, and I couldn't suppress the small smile that curved my lips. Such a simple greeting, yet it carried a depth of affection that made my heart flutter wildly.
I turned to face him, my movements slow and deliberate, savoring the feeling of him against me. The shirt rode up as I moved, and I felt the brush of his bare thigh against mine, skin on skin, intimate and perfect.
When I finally faced him, the sight stole my breath.
His dark hair was mussed from sleep, and from my fingers tangled in it last night, and his eyes were soft, unguarded in a way I'd never seen before.
The morning light caught the blue of his irises, making them almost glow, and the smile playing at the corners of his mouth was genuine, warm, content.
He's beautiful. How did I get so lucky? I placed a gentle kiss over his steadily beating heart, my lips brushing against the warm skin of his chest. I could feel the rhythm beneath my mouth—strong, steady, alive—and it grounded me, reminding me that this was real, that I was allowed to have this.
My hands traveled up along his muscular arms, fingers tracing the defined biceps and the curve of his shoulders. My nails lightly grazed his skin, and goosebumps rose in their wake, proof that I affected him as much as he affected me. The knowledge sent a thrill through me, heady and intoxicating.
Jaxon shivered at the sensation, his breath hitching almost imperceptibly. "Anna," he breathed, my name a warning and a plea all at once.
Emboldened by his reaction, I gently bit into his sculpted pec, a playful nip that left a fleeting mark on his tanned skin. He groaned low in his throat, the sound making heat pool between my thighs.
I kissed my way up across his broad shoulder, my rhythm deliberate, a mix of tenderness and playful affection. Each press of my lips was a silent confession of my desire, my choice, my commitment to stay.
Jaxon closed his eyes, his head tilting back slightly as he let out a low sigh that sounded almost like a prayer, a heady mix of contentment and longing. I made him feel like this. The power I felt at that thought was exhilarating.
The room was quiet, save for the distant chirping of birds outside the window and the faint rustling of cotton sheets against our entwined bodies. The intimacy of the moment made everything else fade into the background, leaving only the warmth and the soul-deep connection thrumming between us.
His breathing deepened as I continued my trail of kisses across his chest, his body relaxing into the embrace as if surrendering completely to my touch. The trust in that surrender made my chest ache with emotion too big to name.
I drew in a deep breath, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his skin, something uniquely him, mixed now with the faint musk of sex and sleep. The combination was addictive, and I wanted to bottle it up and keep it forever.
In one fluid motion, Jaxon's hand caught both my wrists. Before I could process it, he maneuvered me beneath him in a single controlled move that made me gasp.
He pressed me into the yielding softness of the mattress, pinning my hands above my head with one large hand. His strength was casual, restrained but undeniable. The position left me vulnerable, exposed, but I trusted him completely.
The coolness of the sheets contrasted deliciously with the scorching heat of his body as he settled over me, his weight supported on one elbow so he wasn't crushing me but still close enough that I could feel every hard plane of muscle.
His other hand slipped beneath the thin fabric of his shirt I wore, his fingers tracing deliberate, tantalizing paths along the smooth, sensitive skin of my stomach. Each feather-light stroke sent shivers down my spine and made my breath come faster.
"Jax," I breathed, my voice emerging embarrassingly needy.
His fingers trailed higher, skimming just beneath my breast, close enough to make me arch into his touch but not close enough to satisfy. A breathy moan escaped my lips as liquid heat pooled low in my belly, the provocative mix of anticipation and desire making my head spin.
He was teasing me. The bastard was teasing me.
"Enough for now," Jaxon whispered huskily against the shell of my ear, his warm breath tickling my skin and sending a thrill of want lancing straight to my core.
Now? What about—
He punctuated his words with gentle nibbles along the column of my neck, marking the tender skin with the barest hint of teeth. Each scrape sent electricity racing through me, and I squirmed beneath him, seeking friction—seeking more.
"I'll go make you breakfast."
Wait, what?
As swiftly as his captivating presence had enveloped me, it vanished. He released my wrists and rolled away, leaving me dazed and bereft in the suddenly cool sheets.
I lay there for a long moment, stunned, my body still humming with arousal, the remnants of our closeness clinging to me like a dense, honeyed fog. It wasn't until my mind began to clear that I noticed Jaxon's retreating figure.
The lean muscles of his back flexed enticingly with each confident step down the hallway, his form clad only in a pair of black boxer briefs that lovingly cupped his—
Dear God, that ass.
The fabric stretched taut across the front, leaving no doubt about his lingering arousal. The sight sent warmth unfurling in my chest, not from desire alone, but from something deeper: he was taking care of me. Feeding me before... before whatever came next.
A deep, shuddering sigh escaped me, carrying the weight of all the tangled emotions swirling in my chest. My head fell back against the pillows, and I draped an arm over my eyes, a futile shield against the overwhelming rush of feeling.
"I'm so done for," I muttered into the quiet, my voice a blend of awed resignation and joyous wonder.
I wasn't scared. Not of this. Not of him.
Reluctantly, I peeled myself from the warmth of the bed, moving slowly, testing.
There was a pleasant ache between my thighs, a vivid reminder of last night that made heat rise to my cheeks all over again.
My legs wobbled slightly as I padded toward the bathroom, my mind replaying every scorching touch, every reverent whisper.
The way he looked at me. The way he touched me like I was something precious.
When I caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror, I barely recognized the woman staring back.
My hair was a tousled mess, my lips faintly swollen from his kisses, and faint marks dotted my neck where Jaxon's mouth had been.
But it was my eyes that stopped me. Bright, alive, and happy in a way they hadn't been in years.
I looked like someone who's been thoroughly loved.
Because I had been. Not just physically, but in every way that mattered.
I splashed cool water on my face, trying to calm the blush that refused to fade, then brushed my teeth and ran a comb through my tangled hair. The shirt I wore hung to mid-thigh, and for a moment I debated changing into actual clothes.
No. He liked seeing me in his shirt. He said so.
The possessiveness of that thought should have worried me, but it didn't. There was a difference between Jaxon's appreciation and Daniel's controlling ownership. Jaxon made me feel desired. Daniel had made me feel owned.
I made my way downstairs, my bare feet silent on the hardwood steps. The scent of coffee hit me first, rich and dark, followed by the sound of something sizzling on the stove.