Chapter 14 – Jaxon
The morning light streamed through the kitchen window, cutting sharp angles across the room. I sat at the breakfast nook, one hand curled around my coffee mug, the other drumming lightly against the table.
The strong black coffee did nothing to clear the fog in my head, though. My thoughts were still tangled in the events of last night — or, more specifically, what I thought I’d heard.
It had been faint, barely audible over the hum of the air conditioner and the stillness of the apartment. But the sound of her soft moan had cut through the quiet like a live wire.
At first, I’d convinced myself I was imagining things, that my mind was playing tricks on me because she was just down the hall. Too close. But then it came again, unmistakable.
I’d frozen in place, every muscle in my body tightening like a coiled spring. My hand gripped the armrest of the chair so hard I thought the wood might splinter. My heart had pounded in my chest, loud enough to drown out anything else.
I wanted to ignore it, to convince myself it was nothing, but the image of her — lying in that bed, her body arching, her lips parting — had hit me with a force I hadn’t been ready for.
The coffee in my mug sloshed as my grip tightened on the handle. I forced myself to take a slow sip, hoping the heat would burn the thoughts away.
It didn’t.
I’d taken a cold shower that morning. A long one. But even the icy sting of the water hadn’t done much to straighten me out. It wasn’t just the memory of what I thought I’d heard — it was the way it had made me feel. Like I was right back in that car with her, fighting every instinct to look at her, to touch her, to say something I couldn’t take back.
And in the privacy of that shower, where there was no one to answer to but myself, I’d let go of every shred of restraint I’d been clinging to. My fist had wrapped around my cock, and I’d stroked it like a man possessed, desperate to exorcise the need she’d ignited in me.
The memory of her soft moans — real or imagined — had played on a loop in my head, the sound threading its way through every nerve in my body. I’d thought of her lying in my guest bed, her hand trailing lower, her back arching as she whispered my name. It was reckless, indulgent, and completely out of character, but in that moment, I hadn’t cared.
I’d come hard, my release hitting me like a freight train, but even that hadn’t been enough to shake her from my thoughts.
The need, the tension, the ache of wanting her — it lingered, gnawing at the edges of my self-control.
Now, sitting at the breakfast nook, my coffee growing cold in my hands, I felt no more composed than I had in the shower. She was under my roof, just a few steps away, and the lines I’d sworn to keep between us were blurring faster than I could stop them.
This wasn’t like me. I was controlled, disciplined, always. I didn’t let myself get distracted by things that didn’t matter. But Madeline ? She was starting to feel like the exception to every rule I’d ever set for myself.
I rubbed a hand over my face, letting out a sharp breath. This wasn’t just a distraction — it was a goddamn liability. She was here because she was in danger, because I’d decided I couldn’t stand by and let something happen to her. That was it. That was all it was supposed to be.
But I couldn’t stop picturing her. The way her lips curved in that defiant little smile that drove me insane, as if she enjoyed pushing me right to the edge of my sanity. The way her dress had clung to her curves last night at the club, highlighting every dip and line, leaving just enough to the imagination to make it torture. And then there was the moment I’d retrieved the note from her bra — God help me, the memory alone was enough to wreck me.
Her skin had been impossibly soft beneath my fingertips, her breath catching in a way that sent a shock straight through me.
The bra itself had been some flimsy little lace thing, delicate and utterly maddening. I’d tried not to notice it, but I wasn’t blind. The thought of tearing at it with my teeth like a crazed teenager with no self-control had crossed my mind more than once since then, no matter how much I tried to shove it away.
It wasn’t just the physical pull, though that was enough to drive a lesser man to distraction. It was her. The way she held her ground when most people would’ve folded. The way she looked at me like she could see straight through the walls I’d spent years building. And damn it all, the way her scent lingered in the air, sweet and warm and completely intoxicating, like it had settled into my lungs and refused to let go.
This wasn’t who I was. I didn’t get rattled, didn’t lose focus. But with Madeline, every interaction left me teetering on the edge of something I couldn’t quite define. And no matter how hard I tried to push her out of my mind, she kept pulling me back in, like a flame that refused to be extinguished.
I needed to get a grip. To remember who I was and why she was here. But as I heard the soft shuffle of footsteps behind me, my body betrayed me, tensing in anticipation.
When I looked up, there she was. Hair mussed from sleep, an oversized T-shirt skimming the tops of her thighs, legs bare and impossibly distracting. She froze when she saw me, her dark eyes widening slightly before she gave me a tentative smile.
“Morning,” she said, her voice soft and a little hoarse.
I nodded, forcing myself to keep my eyes on hers and not let them wander. “Morning.”
She moved toward the coffee pot, and I watched as she poured herself a cup, her movements unhurried but carrying that same quiet confidence that always seemed to get under my skin.
I clenched my jaw, gripping my coffee mug tighter as I fought to keep my thoughts in check. This was going to be a long, long day.
“Hey, where do you keep the cereal?” Madeline’s voice called out, pulling me from my thoughts.
I glanced up from my coffee, watching as she stood in the middle of the kitchen, barefoot and radiating an unintentional kind of charm that made my pulse jump. “Top cupboard. Far left.”
She shot me a look over her shoulder, brow raised. “Of course, it’s out of reach. What is it with men and putting everything on the highest shelf possible?”
“You’ll manage,” I replied with a faint smirk, taking another sip of coffee.
She rolled her eyes but didn’t argue, moving toward the cupboard in question. Her T-shirt, already skimming the tops of her thighs, shifted higher as she reached up, revealing a sliver of soft, smooth skin.
I tried to look away, I really did, but when she stretched on her toes, her shirt rode up enough to expose the curve of her ass — and the simple, pale pink panties she was wearing.
Jesus Christ.
She huffed, still reaching, completely unaware of the effect she was having on me. “Okay, this is ridiculous. Who puts cereal up here? Are you hiding it from someone?”
I forced myself to move, setting my coffee down and crossing the kitchen in a few long strides. “Here, let me.” My voice sounded rougher than I intended, but she didn’t seem to notice.
Stepping up behind her, I reached over her shoulder, my arm brushing against hers as I grabbed the box from the shelf. Her scent hit me — something light and sweet that made my stomach tighten — and I gritted my teeth, willing myself to keep it together.
“There,” I said, holding the box out to her.
She turned, her face lighting up with a bright smile that only made things worse. “Thanks. I’m pretty sure I pulled a muscle trying to get that.”
My eyes flicked down for just a second, catching the faint blush on her thighs where the hem of her shirt had pressed into her skin. I swallowed hard, forcing my gaze back to her face.
“You could’ve just asked,” I muttered, stepping back to put some much-needed space between us.
“I did ask,” she shot back, grabbing the box and setting it on the counter. “You just assumed I’d manage.”
“Lesson learned,” I said, my tone dry as I picked up my coffee again.
She didn’t respond, too busy rummaging through drawers for a bowl and spoon, but I could still feel the lingering heat from the moment.
My jaw clenched as I turned away, staring at the coffee in my mug like it might have answers to questions I didn’t want to ask.
That brief flash of pink, the soft curve of her body, the way she’d smiled at me like it was nothing — it was all burned into my mind now, impossible to ignore.
I took a slow, steady breath, reminding myself of every reason this was a bad idea. She was here because she needed to feel safer, not because she needed me.
She’s also 9 years your JUNIOR, asshole.
The thought hit me like a slap, sharp and grounding. Nine years wasn’t a lifetime, but it was enough. Enough for her to still have that spark, that lightness I’d lost somewhere along the way. Enough for her to deserve someone who could match it, who could give her more than a man weighed down by years of responsibility and regret.
What the hell was wrong with me?
She was smart. Capable. Fiercely independent. She didn’t need me swooping in.
Or did she?
The thought gnawed at me, twisting my gut into knots. I’d been so blinded by rage when I saw that note last night that maybe I wasn’t thinking clearly.
Maybe I was projecting, seeing threats in every shadow because I’d spent years in a world where danger was real, where it wasn’t just in your head — it was waiting around every corner.
But this wasn’t that world. And she wasn’t a soldier who needed orders barked at her to keep her alive.
She’s fine, Jax. She’s handled herself this far.
Yet… she hadn’t told anyone about the note. She’d downplayed everything, even to Quinn. It wasn’t weakness — it was pride. And if there was one thing I knew about pride, it had a way of making you think you could carry the weight of the world alone.
So maybe she did need me.
Not to take over, not to smother her with protection she didn’t ask for, but to be there. To be steady when she couldn’t be, to see the angles she might miss because she was too close to it all.
Every time she looked at me with those sharp, curious eyes, I felt like she saw something in me I wasn’t sure I still had. It was infuriating, intoxicating, and completely fucking off-limits.
This wasn’t about me. It couldn’t be. She was here for safety, for support should she choose to accept it. That was it.
I could feel her eyes on me. Madeline had been quiet — too quiet — for the last few minutes. That alone was enough to put me on edge. She wasn’t the type to sit in silence for long unless she was trying to work something out in her head.
I leaned back in my chair, setting the mug down on the table with deliberate slowness. “Whatever it is you’re chewing on, Scout, just spit it out.”
Her spoon paused midair, hovering over her cereal bowl. She blinked, caught off guard, then gave me a small, sheepish smile. “Chewing on?”
I arched a brow, keeping my tone dry. “You’ve got that look. The one that says you’re about to ask me something I’m not going to like.”
Her smile widened, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. “You’re observant. I’ll give you that.”
I didn’t respond, waiting her out. She shifted slightly in her seat, glancing down at her bowl before finally setting the spoon aside.
“How well do you know Sean?” she asked, her voice casual — too casual.
There it was.
I kept my expression neutral, even as my instincts flared. “Why?”
She shrugged, but the movement was too deliberate. “I was just curious. I know he works at the club. I thought maybe you’d worked together before or something.”
My jaw tightened. This wasn’t just curiosity — she was fishing. And while I didn’t know exactly what she was after, I wasn’t about to lay everything out on the table for her.
“We’ve known each other for a while,” I said, keeping my tone even. “Military.”
Her eyes lit up with interest, and I could practically see her filing the information away.
“That makes sense,” she said, nodding slowly. “You’ve got that… disciplined vibe about you.”
I snorted softly. “Disciplined, huh? Is that what they’re calling it these days?”
She rolled her eyes but didn’t take the bait. “Sean doesn’t really give off that vibe, though. He seems… different. Less rigid.”
I leaned forward slightly, resting my forearms on the table. “What are you really asking, Madeline?”
Her gaze flicked to mine, and for a moment, she hesitated. But then her shoulders squared, and I saw that familiar spark of determination flare in her eyes.
“Look, I’m just trying to understand the people around the club. Sean seems… connected. Like he knows more than he lets on.”
I narrowed my eyes, studying her. “What exactly are you hoping to find by ‘understanding’ the people around the club?”
She hesitated again, and for a second, I thought she might back off. But instead, she leaned forward, her voice lowering just slightly. “I’m just trying to stay informed. Safer that way, don’t you think?”
My jaw clenched. She was skirting the edge of something dangerous, and whether she realized it or not, she was dragging me into it.
“Sean’s a good guy,” I said firmly. “He’s been through a lot, and he’s handling it the best he can. That’s all you need to know.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I could tell she wasn’t satisfied with the answer. But she didn’t push, and I wasn’t sure if I was relieved or frustrated by that.
“Okay,” she said finally, leaning back in her chair. “Thanks for humouring me.”
I didn’t respond, my gaze lingering on her for a beat too long. There was something about the way she was looking at me — curious, calculating, and maybe just a little vulnerable — that made me want to say more.
She fiddled with the spoon in her empty cereal bowl, her fingers absently spinning it in lazy circles. The air between us was thick with unspoken words, a silent tug-of-war between her need to know more and my reluctance to give it.
“You’re not as closed off as you think you are,” she said suddenly, her tone light but her eyes sharp.
That pulled me up short. “Excuse me?”
She gave me a small, knowing smile. “You act like you’re all walls and no windows, but you give away more than you realize.You care about people.”
I leaned back in my chair, crossing my arms. “What exactly are you trying to say, Scout?”
Her smile widened at the nickname, but there was a flicker of hesitation in her eyes. She set the spoon down, folding her hands in her lap. “I’m saying… it’s nice to know there’s a heart there and it’s not made of stone.”
The words hung in the air, heavier than they should’ve been. She wasn’t wrong — not entirely. But that didn’t mean I was about to let her dig any deeper than she already had.
“I’m not indifferent,” I said slowly, choosing my words carefully. “But that doesn’t mean I’m going to hand you every answer you’re looking for on a silver platter.”
Her gaze didn’t waver, and for a moment, we just stared at each other, the tension between us sharp enough to cut.
“I don’t expect you to hand me anything,” she said finally, her voice quiet but steady. “But you can’t blame me for trying to understand what I’m walking into. Especially when it’s clear there’s more going on here than anyone’s saying.”
I looked away, focusing on the coffee mug in my hand. “Do yourself a favour,” I said, my voice low. “Stop looking for answers that might just make things worse.”
Her expression hardened, but there was a flicker of something else in her eyes — disappointment, maybe. Or defiance.
“That’s not who I am,” she said softly. “I don’t stop just because things get complicated.”
I let out a sharp breath, running a hand over my face. Of course she didn’t. She was too stubborn, too driven to let anything go once she’d set her mind to it.
“Madeline,” I said, my voice softer now, almost pleading, though I hated the vulnerability in my tone. “I know you know this isn’t a game.” I gestured vaguely around us, at the safety of my apartment, the walls I’d brought her behind. “Look around. Look at where you are right now because you won’t drop shit. Look at what it’s already cost you.”
Her lips parted like she wanted to argue, but no sound came. She held my gaze, and for a fleeting moment, I thought I saw a crack in her armour. But then her chin tilted up, her shoulders straightened, and that spark of defiance was back in her eyes.
“I can’t stop,” she said quietly, her voice steady but not without a trace of doubt.
I shook my head, a mix of frustration and something else — something deeper — churning in my chest. “Don’t push your luck, Scout,” I warned, stepping closer, my voice dropping lower. “You might not like what you find.”
She squared her shoulders, her jaw tightening as her dark eyes locked onto mine. “Maybe not,” she admitted, her tone sharper now, almost challenging. “But it’s not about liking it. It’s about the truth. And sometimes, the truth isn’t pretty.”
My stomach clenched, the weight of her words hitting harder than I wanted to admit. She wasn’t wrong, but that didn’t make her any less reckless in my eyes.
I stood abruptly, grabbing my mug and turning toward the sink.
The sound of her chair scraping against the floor told me she’d stood, too, but she didn’t say anything. Instead, the silence stretched between us, heavy and unresolved.
I made a few steps toward her, losing the small distance between us. She leaned back against the counter, her neck tilting up to meet my gaze as I placed one arm on either side of her waist, caging her in.
Her dark eyes locked onto mine, unblinking, as though she refused to be the first to look away. My chest tightened at the fire I saw there — stubborn and so goddamn captivating it made me forget why I’d stepped so close in the first place.
“There’s a difference between bravery and stupidity,” I said, my voice quieter now, rougher around the edges.
Her lips parted. “Which one do you think I am?”
Her tone wasn’t defiant — not entirely. There was something softer laced beneath it, something that made my grip on the counter edge dig a little deeper.
She wasn’t backing down, but she wasn’t challenging me either. She was asking — genuinely asking — and that made it even harder to hold my ground.
“Right now?” I murmured, leaning in just enough to make her shift slightly beneath my gaze, her chest rising and falling faster than before. “You’re toeing the line.”
Her breath hitched again, and I hated how much I noticed it, how much my own pulse quickened in response. My gaze flicked down, catching the faint quirk of her lips as if she were fighting a smirk, and something primal tugged low in my gut.
“You’re awfully close for someone who thinks I’m stupid,” she said, her voice quieter now, but no less sharp.
My lips twitched despite myself, a bitter laugh rumbling low in my throat. “Maybe I’m trying to figure out which one you really are.”
Her eyes narrowed slightly, but the hint of amusement in them hadn’t disappeared. “What’s the verdict?”
I didn’t answer right away, my gaze lingering on her for a moment too long. The soft curve of her jaw, the faint flush on her cheeks, the way her lips were just slightly parted, like she was daring me to close the distance between us—
I forced myself to straighten, breaking the invisible tether that had pulled me in closer than I should’ve allowed.
“Still deciding,” I muttered, my tone gruffer now as I stepped back, putting space between us again.
Her smirk widened, but her eyes didn’t lose their edge. “Well, let me know when you’ve made up your mind.”
The air between us still felt thick, heavy with whatever it was we hadn’t said, but I turned on my heel and headed toward the door, needing the space to clear my head.
As I walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d already made up my mind — and that was what scared me most of all.