Chapter 10
Jaxon
My place smelled like Chinese takeout and beer thanks to the two idiots on my couch.
Jesse and Ariyo were planted on the center couch, controllers in hand, bodies leaning forward as they locked into the game.
The TV flashed neon violence and shouted commentary, but it all blurred into background noise for me.
I was laying comfortably on the couch to the right, my sketchpad balanced on my knee as the pencil moved across the page. A sense of calm always came over me whenever I was doing that. My fingers moved on instinct more than thought, and the projection of the memory in my head stared back at me.
If only I could just—
My phone buzzed.
I barely glanced at it at first, expecting a random notification from my socials, but my gaze caught Nerissa’s name.
What does the little devil want now?
My brows pulled together as I picked up the phone and opened the message. Maybe she was wondering where—
Everything simply stopped.
My breath caught in my throat as I stared at the screen—stared at the agonizingly beautiful woman looking straight at me. The sketchpad slid flat against my thighs as I sat up, spine straight, eyes running down her body like my last breath depended on it.
Maybe it did.
Savannah.
Her usual dress code was enough to make me double take. This… Savannah dressed in nothing but black lace was going to be the death of me.
Her body was angled just enough to suggest instead of show, with confidence threading through her posture like a secret she’d spent years keeping. Her eyes weren’t trying to seduce the camera—but they weren’t running from it, either.
“Fuck,” I muttered, my eyes landing on the curve of her hips and down to the single jewel on her panties.
I couldn't look away.
Maybe a part of me didn't want to look away because I was afraid the picture would disappear—because there was no way this image was for me, right? One could never tell with Nerissa, and she knew sending me this would have me falling over the deep end.
I told you she was a tiny devil.
You all didn't believe me.
Wait a damn minute, she’s with Nerissa?
I held back the scoff and shook my head. Of course she is. Go figure that Rissa would be spending more time with my fake girlfriend than I was. Fantastic.
Fucking hell, look at her legs.
Savannah didn’t look like a law student or that bastard's ex-fiancée or the woman who held herself together with discipline and control. She looked… dangerous—like she was a woman you never wanted to cross.
She looked like mine.
And I was absolutely, catastrophically enchanted.
I zoomed in before I could stop myself.
Tracked the curve of her waist. The line of her collarbone. The way her lips parted just slightly, like she was teasing me with the idea of her lips spreading for something else.
Heat flared inside me, rising and roaring and threatening to take over. I could hear the pounding of my heart as if it were a drum beside my ear. And my dick was stirring in my pants.
I’d seen and been with beautiful women before, all naked and confident and bold. None of them had ever made my chest ache like this.
“You good over there?” Jesse asked, glancing at me from the corner of his eye.
I didn’t answer.
Ari leaned back, smirk already loaded. “Oh, I know that face. He's over there sexting his girl. Gross, dude. We're right here. Unless you want to show—”
“Do not finish that sentence.”
My glare cut to him, pulling me out of my trance.
“Testy.” His knowing smirk just widened, and he returned his gaze to the game.
Rolling my eyes, I closed the photo—painfully, trust me—and tried to call her. When she didn't answer, I typed.
JAXON
Trouble.
I waited.
Ten minutes passed.
Nothing.
My jaw tightened.
I typed again.
JAXON
You gonna ignore me now?
Not very girlfriend-like behavior, trouble.
Still nothing.
The game ended, and Jesse swore softly just as Ari launched in the air with a fist pump.
“And that's your ass, Daucett.”
“Don't forget you lost the last one. The way I see it, we're even.”
That slapped the smile right off Ari's face, a scowl taking its place.
“One last go and I'll have the winning streak.”
Now Jesse gave him a small smirk. “Let's go then.”
An hour crawled by as they played and I tried—really, I tried—to not look at the chat screen with Savannah, my message sitting there unanswered.
Now isn't the time to play games, trouble.
I ran a hand down my face and closed the chat, my thumb hovering on Nerissa’s. The right thing would’ve been to delete the photo, right? The question gave me pause and I could feel my restraint weighing thin.
Men were such weak-minded souls.
Temptation ate me alive and I gave in, opening the photo one last time.
Just once, I told myself.
The ache came back instantly—sharp, deep, all-consuming. I groaned softly and locked the screen, dropping the phone face-down on the cushion beside me like it would detonate any second. My fingers flexed and unflexed. My breathing was labored like I had just run a marathon.
“I’m an idiot,” I muttered.
But this idiot needed a distraction that Jesse and Ari weren't providing. I pulled up Benji’s contact and typed.
JAXON
I'm an idiot.
His reply came a few minutes later.
BENJI
We know this.
JAXON
* straight face emoji *
You're not supposed to agree asshole.
BENJI
Can't help that it's the truth.
What's the problem?
JAXON
Question, what do you do when you get a sexy pic of your fake girlfriend?
BENJI
What?
JAXON
Pic came from Nerissa.
I have no idea what that means but fucking hell.
Is staring at it for 23 minutes an option?
Because I can't close this picture to save my fucking life.
A pause stretched before he responded.
BENJI
Jax.
I could hear his scolding voice in my head.
JAXON
I wanna go see her.
Scratch that—it's more of a need now.
BENJI
Don’t.
You know what the deal is.
Don't complicate it.
Go to bed.
I leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling.
JAXON
Bro, did you not see the need part of my message?
BENJI
Leave her alone, Jaxon.
Go to bed.
I blew out a breath, long and frustrated, dragging a hand down my face.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
I stood abruptly, sketchpad forgotten, phone heavy in my pocket.
“I’m going to bed,” I threw over my shoulder.
“Already?” Ari asked. “It's barely nine o'clock.”
“Shut up,” I tossed back without heat.
I disappeared down the hall, the quiet of my bedroom swallowing me whole. With my back pressed against the door, I slammed my eyes shut and fisted my dick through my joggers.
Trouble.
All I could see was trouble.
Even with my eyes closed, the image was burned into my skull, my own personal torment.
I knew two things—first, I needed a very, very cold shower. And the second thing… fake relationship or not, I was in way deeper than I planned.
What was this woman doing to me?
Growling, I marched to the bathroom and stripped out of my shirt.
My dick sprang up the minute I dragged my joggers down, achingly hard.
It didn't help that all I could picture was Savannah sprawled in my bed wearing that fucking black lace—or me ripping it off.
They were dangerous thoughts to have, but I wasn't a man who ran away from dangerous things.
I stepped into the shower and cranked the handle until the water ran brutally cold. It hit my skin like the penance I was more than happy to pay—sharp, unrelenting, meant to erase the image from my head.
It didn’t.
I braced my hands against the tiled wall and let my forehead rest there, water cascading over my shoulders, down my spine. My breath came slow, controlled.
In.
Out.
In.
Out.
No amount of cold could stop the heat blazing through me. If anything, it enhanced the image. Her eyes. Her legs. Her curves. The longer I closed my eyes, the deeper I drowned into the fantasy of Savannah fucking Bristow.
She was stealing my soul bit by bit, and she didn't even know it.
Dragging a ragged breath, I reached for the shower gel and squirted some in the palms of my hands.
“Get it together,” I muttered, but my voice echoed back hollow.
I tried to wash up—tried to ignore the pulsing in my veins—until I couldn't block it out anymore.
Suddenly she was there, standing right in front of me and taking over every action.
My hand glided across my chest, skimming over the outlines of my abdomen and sinking lower until it circled around my dick.
I gritted my teeth as I squeezed, the tension coiling in my shoulders.
My mind conjured the image of her sinking to her knees, lips parted and waiting for me. Just for me.
“Fuck,” I cursed, playing into the fantasy, slowly sliding my hand up and down my length.
My breath hitched when she licked her lips, the sight all too real.
I pump my dick faster, panting as I imagined her sliding her tongue across the tip.
I could see her lips spread as she took me deep in her mouth.
I could see the flush on her golden skin.
I could see her wide eyes staring back at me with carnal need.
“Savannah,” I groaned softly, her name a slow burn on my tongue.
It wasn’t just want.
No, this was need.
The kind that crept under your skin and refused to leave, the kind that made your pulse pound and your thoughts unravel.
My free palm pressed against the tiled wall as I moved faster, water pounding down my neck and back.
My breath was uneven now, letting the monster inside me take whatever it needed to quench that thirst.
For that moment, the world resided within those four walls, revolving on the axis of my trouble.
Mine.
I could picture the moment my fingers threaded through her dripping wet hair and fisted. She was sucking and licking and driving me mad. Her eyes watered when I forced her to take more, hitting the back of her throat. My forehead made contact with the cold tile again as my movements went wild.