Chapter 14 #3
The tension built in spirals. Each thrust wound her tighter, pushing her toward an edge she could feel coming.
Jax's hand slid between them, thumb finding her clit. The additional sensation was too much.
It didn’t build. It deployed. Her thoughts fragmented. Everything she'd been holding in place went offline at once. She clenched around him in long, shuddering pulses. Through the wreckage of her higher brain functions came one thought: Jax had optimized for exactly this.
Jax followed shortly after, his rhythm breaking, a sound catching in his throat as he came inside her. His hand found the back of her neck, thumb resting against her pulse point.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then his mouth found her skin, moving from shoulder to collarbone to the hollow of her throat where her pulse still hammered, kissing a slow path upward until he reached her mouth, his hand still cradling her face.
When he kissed her, she tasted herself on him, salt and want and the heat he’d taken from her and carried back. Jax held her with care, like he was stabilizing a system that had just rebooted.
The world reassembled itself into something recognizable: marble counters, gold fixtures, a chaise that had absolutely earned its place in this ridiculous bathroom.
He withdrew and moved to stand, she caught his wrist, her hand tightening before he could pull away. “Wait.”
Jax stayed. His fingers absentmindedly traced her spine, like he was still orienting himself. Then he pressed a kiss to her temple.
“Thou art being and breath.”
When she made to move he rose, offered his hand. Pulled her to her feet with the same careful precision he'd used for everything else. Then he drew her in, one arm around her waist and held her like he was running a diagnostic and refusing to let go until the results came back clean.
"One more thing," Jax said against her hair. "May I share your panel and IUD status with the others?" He pressed another kiss to her temple. "Only for safety. Only if you approve."
April blinked, still floating. "The others?"
"Anyone you're with. Anyone you might be with." His voice was careful. "Just so everyone has the information they need. Consent-based logistics."
It should have felt procedural. Instead it felt like care.
"Okay," April said. "Yes."
"I'll need that IUD documentation when you can send it," he said. "So I can add it to the shared file. But no rush.”
Then he turned her toward the mirror, standing behind her, and proceeded to fix what the library and the chaise had undone.
Lipstick repaired. Hair smoothed. Necklace straightened.
His reflection met hers in the mirror.
"Hold still," Jax said.
He crossed to the counter and picked up the handheld steamer that had been sitting there.
April watched in the mirror as he carefully steamed the wrinkles from her dress, his movements precise and focused. "You're using the amenities."
"Silk wrinkles," he said simply. "And you're going back out there looking like you own the place, not like you've been—"
He gestured vaguely at the chaise behind them.
Such little regard for boundaries. Watching her. Appearing in bathrooms uninvited.
But so much regard for her: The steamer. The careful questions. The way he'd made sure she felt safe even while unraveling her completely.
The steam rose between them, until the emerald silk looked like it had never been compromised.
"There," he said, stepping back to examine his work. "Perfect."
April didn't have a word for what Jax Reed steaming her dress was doing to her, and she suspected if she found one it would ruin her.
Of course he noticed the wrinkles. Of course he had a solution.
Of course Jax Reed would fuck her senseless and then steam her dress like aftercare came with an instruction manual.
April turned and reached up to kiss him again. Gentler now. Grateful.
When she pulled back, Jax smiled.
"Go," he said. "Before the others send a search party. No one would be that stupid to risk a chance with you."
April laughed despite herself.
She checked her reflection one last time.
The woman looking back at her was glowing. Controlled. Dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with revenge and everything to do with knowing—finally—what it felt like to choose and be chosen.
She grabbed her clutch, squared her shoulders, checked her phone.
Laura: I'm getting texts from you like you're trapped inside a telenovela written by HR.
Laura: Can you call me for sixty seconds and tell me:
Laura: A) what you did
Laura: B) what Chad did
Laura: C) what you need me to do (besides panic)
April: Can’t explain
Laura: You can. You're choosing not to.
Laura: (I respect it. I hate it. I'm here.)
April: I’m busy, I’m at a GALA
April: wearing emerald silk
April: there are cameras
Laura: Whose gala.
April: liams
Laura: The brother.
Laura: After your FAKE ENGAGEMENT to his brother's BOSS.
Laura: April this sounds like a Dateline episode.
April: its fine
Laura: “Fine” is doing a lot of work in that sentence.
April silenced her phone.
Checked her reflection in the mirror.
The woman staring back looked composed.
The woman staring back was lying.
She smoothed her dress, straightened her spine, and walked out to face the music.
Literally.