Chapter 3
Ethan
Irefuse to touch my erection in the shower. It’s Antarctica in here, and it hasn’t ebbed. It needs to quit. I have too many conflicting thoughts in my head.
Aurora. I haven’t talked to her about me and Jax. It’s wrong without her.
But she is with Reece… She’s aware of our relationship. I could be tearing Jackson’s clothes off, sinking my teeth into his skin instead of shivering with blue balls.
Fuck, I wouldn’t know what to do if I did get him naked.
You have a dick; you’ll figure it out.
I should stop this. We can’t. He has been through too much.
Although he kissed me.
Joking about it is one thing, but actually doing it? I’m thirty-five. It’s obscene to have a twenty-two-year-old girlfriend and a twenty-five-year-old boyfriend—who’s also the captain of my hockey team. That’s just insane.
Insane is also how I felt when I thought I’d lose him. The universe might as well rip my soul from my body. Losing him would leave a void that can’t be filled. He’s a pain in the ass, but I love him with every fiber of my being, the same as I do Aurora, and maybe have for a while.
Perspectives change in the heat of the moment. When the house was raided and he broke down, burying his face in my neck and gripping me as if I were his lifeline, something in me shifted. I knew with complete certainty that our attachment was deeper, that he was mine to protect, care for, and love.
Insane is how it felt to kiss him. Pure fucking insanity. As if I were free-falling from the sky without a parachute. As if all my wants, desires, and need for him, known and unknown, came rushing to the surface, hitting me all at once.
Love is insane. When I fell for Aurora, I was jittery, crazed, out of control. I fought it, and it did nothing but strain our relationship. I want to do better with Jax, but I also don’t know what to do.
I envision him on his knees, staring up at me with those devilish green eyes as I forced him to take my cock down his throat.
My unrelenting dick jerks.
Nope.
No, I will not. I’m not going there.
I rest my head back against the tile and scrub my fingers through my hair. I’m taking forever in the shower, and I wonder if I’m subconsciously waiting for him. I quickly rinse and shut off the water.
I exit the bathroom, my ridiculous hard-on pressed to my stomach by the towel around my waist, and come to a halt. He’s asleep in my bed, shirtless, his face buried in my pillow. I bet he sniffed it like a creeper too.
As long as he didn’t jack off on my sheets.
That visual has my cock thickening further. I glance down, giving it a scowl and a firm talking-to. Goddammit, stop. The brat is asleep.
My gaze scans the room for my phone. I find it on my dresser beside my belt and snatch it, eager to take a picture of him. Now who’s the creeper?
Still, I snap the pic. He’s too adorable not to.
Full lips parted, his chest rises and falls peacefully. I brush back the hair that’s fallen in his face, allowing my knuckles to graze his forehead, then the stubble on his jaw. Fuck, I have it bad. This erection is never going away.
Taking a deep breath, I slip into a pair of boxers and climb in next to him. Anxiety roils in my stomach. I stare at the ceiling and run through everyone who’s my responsibility.
The twins left with Charlie and another agent to return to the hospital. I sent Rocco a message yesterday, telling him to take whatever from my account to pay Desi and Dante and to ensure they have everything they needed. He responded by threatening to come to LA and insisting we move to New York.
The idea is tempting. If I wasn’t coaching, I would.
Aurora is content with Reece, who’s on a locked unit guarded by half his force. They’re perfectly safe, and I have the twins taking them food and clothes.
As for my other team, I took a few days off, claiming we had a break-in—not a lie—and I won’t return until tomorrow. We have two home games coming up, and for the first time, I’m not excited to coach. But I can’t let personal issues ruin the season for an entire organization.
An arm wraps around my torso, and Jax rests his head on my shoulder. “I can hear you thinking.” His knee comes over me and brushes my relentless hard-on. “You want me to take care of that?”
I don’t have to look at him to know he’s grinning.
My breath picks up. “No…” Doubt sets in. “Is this not new for you?” How did he jump into this easily?
This is Jackson. Why am I even questioning it? He’s impulsive and persistent when he wants something.
And now he wants me. Fuck.
“Everything with the three of us is new.” He props up on his elbow.
I turn toward him, doing the same. “Is that why you like it?”
He trails his fingers over my bare stomach. The muscles tighten and twitch at his touch.
“I love it. Every part. From the moment you snuck into our bed in New York, I couldn’t wait for more.”
My lips twist with unease as I trace my bite mark on his collarbone. “Is it just a fascination for you?”
His hand settles on my waist. “It’s not a phase, if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve always been this way.”
“What way?”
He draws circles on my pebbled skin and contemplates his answer. “Disinterested in people unless I was emotionally connected to them, trusted them. Open-minded about who that might be.”
“Like Grant?” My voice comes across harsher than intended.
He smiles, picking up on my absurd jealousy. “Just because only a few people make it in doesn’t mean I’m attracted to them all. I’m not interested in Grant—he’s a self-proclaimed slut. That’s fine, but we’re not the same.”
I can’t help but chuckle at his seriousness. No, Jackson could never fathom engaging in sex without some level of emotional attachment. “I was a slut once. It happens.”
His smile fades. “Please don’t tell me that. New York doesn’t need another murderer.”
I laugh and nudge his shoulder. “Shut up.”
He lands on his back dramatically and rolls onto his other side, tucking the pillow under his head. “I can’t look at you right now.”
My chest vibrates with amusement. I lie beside him, wrap an arm around him, and pull him close.
He smells of my bodywash—woodsy or pine needles or some crap.
He must have taken a quick shower in the other bathroom.
His hair isn’t wet. He probably refused to use my cheap shampoo, and my lips spread into a smile.
“You’re such a brat.” I give in to temptation and kiss the curve of his neck.
His hips shift. “Don’t stop,” he whispers.
I picture my hand clasping his throat, fingertips pressed into his jaw, holding him to me as I make him come. What noises would he make for me? Would he beg?
Jesus, I need to stop.
“What if you get bored?” I ask, a little too breathless.
The last thing I want is to become utterly enthralled, only for him to move on to his next obsession.
Who am I kidding? I’m already there.
“I won’t get bored.” He weaves his fingers through mine and brings them to his heart.
“How do you know?” I nuzzle his hair. He definitely didn’t use my shampoo. The scent is purely him—coconut and citrus, reminiscent of summer and sunshine.
“Sometimes, I have these voices in my head—not real voices,” he clarifies when I go still.
“Obsessive thoughts, I guess. For a while, one of them has been chanting, Ethan, Ethan, Ethan, Ethan, Ethan,” he says like a rapid heartbeat.
“I hear Aurora’s name, but it’s, Auuuroooraaaa,” he singsongs.
“It’s dreamy, sleepy sex. It’s a lazy, sunny day at the beach, surfing and catching waves.
She’s the light I can’t live without. But you…
” He sighs softly and squeezes my fingers.
“You’re the craving in the dark. You’re cocaine in my veins, a compulsion driving me mad.
I have to have it. I want to know everything.
I fear I’ll lose you. I want to breathe you in until you’re a part of me and can’t escape. You’ll never go away; I won’t let you.”
It's the most Jackson answer I’ve ever heard, and even though he’s completely fucking insane, I grin. “Only you could make falling in love sound like a stalker kidnapping his victim and have it be totally desirable.”