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JAXON

I swear, I've imagined this a hundred different ways.

Late at night, alone in my bed, thinking about what it would be like to really touch her, to feel her, to see her like this—bare, open, mine.

But every single thought, every single fantasy I've ever had about Madison Blake, is nothing compared to this.

To her.

To the way she's looking at me now, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. Her eyes—those brown eyes that have haunted me for years—are dark with want, but something else too, something that looks a lot like trust.

Her fingers trail over my abs, tentative at first, like she's memorizing the feeling of my skin, like she's learning me through touch alone.

My pulse pounds as I let her strip me bare, her hands dragging down my arms to toss the sweatshirt to the floor. Each point of contact burns like a brand, marking me as hers in ways I've always wanted.

And then, her fingers go for the waistband of my sweatpants.

I freeze.

Not because I don't want this. God, do I want this, more than I've ever wanted anything.

More than football. More than the draft.

More than any dream I've ever chased.

But this is new. I don't know what I'm doing, and the last thing I want is to fuck this up for her.

For us.

Because this isn't just sex.

This is Madison, the girl I've been in love with since before I even understood what love was.

She must see something in my expression, because her fingers still, her eyes searching mine. "Jax?"

I swallow hard, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Yeah?"

Her lips twitch, her hands sliding up my stomach, slow and so damn soft, it makes me ache. "Are you nervous?"

I exhale a short laugh, running a hand through my hair. "I mean, yeah. Kinda. Yes."

I could lie, could play it cool. I could pretend I've done this a hundred times before.

But this is Madison, and I've never been able to lie to her.

She reaches up, brushing her fingers along my jaw, and fuck, I'm so gone for her.

"I want you, Jax."

Her voice is barely above a whisper, but it's enough to wreck me. The sincerity in her eyes, the slight tremble in her touch—it all tells me this means as much to her as it does to me.

I nod, swallowing past the lump in my throat. "Me too."

Taking control, I reach for the hem of her sweater, my hands steady as I lift it up over her head, exposing the smooth skin of her stomach, the curve of her shoulders, the delicate strap of her black lace bra. My fingers trace lightly down her arms, across her stomach, before settling on her waist.

I let out a shaky breath, my fingers itching to touch her, to trace every inch of her. Still, I force myself to go slow, to savor this moment, to commit every detail to memory, starting with the scars covering her left shoulder, reaching to her collarbone.Leaning down, I kiss them one by one. She shivers under the attention, but she doesn't stop me .

“You’re beautiful, Madison.” Bringing my eyes back to hers, I wonder if she’ll go shy on me.

Instead, she steps in closer, her fingers slipping under the band of my sweatpants.

"Take these off."

I inhale sharply, my body tightening at the rasp in her voice.

“Yes, ma’am.” I hook my thumbs under the waistband, shoving them down as she watches me with an intensity that makes my skin burn.

She makes me feel seen in a way I never have before.

She continues to watch me as she reaches behind to undo the clasp of her bra, her eyes meeting mine again right in time for it to hit the floor.

Fuck. Me.

I can’t help my eyes from wandering over her entire body, drinking her in and committing her naked body to memory.

She's perfect. Not in the airbrushed magazine way, but in her realness. The small freckle just below her collarbone on her right side. The slight curve of her stomach. The way she holds herself—confident, but with an undercurrent of vulnerability that makes my chest ache.

I groan and move towards her, my fingers curling around her waist. I press my lips to hers, slow and deep, letting her feel everything I can't put into words—all the longing, all the waiting, all the dreams I've had about this moment.

She moans softly, her hands sliding down my chest, her eyes roaming my body the same way I did hers, teasing at the band of my boxers. I have to focus hard on my breathing, because I cannot lose it right now.

I break the kiss, pressing my forehead to hers, trying to calm the storm raging inside me. "Mads…"

Her hands still, and she smirks—smirks like she knows what she's doing to me, like she's enjoying the way she has me completely at her mercy. "Yeah?"

I squeeze my eyes shut for half a second before letting out a ragged breath. "Get in the shower before I forget how to be a gentleman. "

She laughs, shaking her head, but she turns toward the water, peeling off her leggings before getting in.

Fuck my life. I am so screwed. There is zero chance of me lasting more than five seconds. Every curve of her body seems like it was created to exceed my wildest dreams.

She steps under the water, and I join her a second later, closing the door behind me.

The second the hot water hits my back, my muscles finally loosen. Steam swirls around us, curling in the air, but all I can focus on is her.

The way she tilts her head back, letting the water cascade down her body, her lashes fluttering as she sighs.

The way the droplets cling to her skin, sliding over the curves of her shoulders, down the valley between her breasts, over the dip of her waist.

I swallow hard, forcing myself to look at her face when she turns back to me.

Her cheeks are flushed, her lips still swollen from my kiss, her eyes soft. There's a vulnerability in her expression now—like she's letting me see a side of her she keeps hidden from everyone else.

I step forward, lifting my hands to cup her jaw, my thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. "You're unreal, Mads."

She smiles, leaning into my touch. "You're not so bad yourself, Montgomery."

I chuckle, my hands sliding down to her waist, pulling her against me under the water. The feel of her skin against mine—nothing between us for the first time—sends electricity racing through my veins.

"So…" she starts, her hands coming up to wrap around my neck. "About being a gentleman.."

"Yeah?" I don't know what's happening to my voice, but it sounds rough and deeper than before.

My breath catches.

She's looking at me with that look—the one that says she knows exactly what she's doing, knows exactly what she's asking for.

And fuck, my brain might short-circuit.

Her fingers move to my hair, tugging just enough to send a shiver down my spine.

"What if I don't want you to be?"

My heart slams against my ribs, my grip on her waist tightening, like I need to hold on to something solid before I lose my damn mind. The water is hot, the steam thick, but she's the only thing burning my skin.

I swallow hard, my voice lower than before. "You sure?"

She smirks, tilting her chin up slightly, her lips brushing against mine but not quite touching. "I've never been more sure of anything."

That's all it takes.

I grab her hips, spinning us so her back presses against the cool tile, a soft gasp leaving her lips as the contrast of heat and cold sends a shock through her.

Her hands slide from my hair to my shoulders, nails digging in, and I groan, dropping my forehead against hers, trying to breathe, trying to keep myself under control. Our bodies are completely pressed against each other for the first time.

I trail my lips along her jaw, down the side of her neck, lingering there, breathing her in, licking her, tasting her… She smells like lavender and something sweeter, something uniquely her.

"Mads…" My voice is hoarse, barely audible over the water.

She shudders, tilting her head back, giving me more access. "Jax."

Her voice is softer, breathier, and it does me in.

I kiss her skin, slow and deep, savoring the heat of the shower, the faint saltiness of her skin, the way she arches into me when I scrape my teeth against her pulse point.

Her breath hitches, her nails pressing harder into my shoulders, and I grin against her neck. "Still want me to forget about being a gentleman? "

She lets out a soft laugh, breathless and warm. "Jaxon Montgomery, if you stop now, I might actually die."

Chuckling, I capture her mouth with mine, letting the steam envelop us in our own world. My hands explore the curve of her waist, the small of her back, every inch of her skin making me dizzy with want.

Her fingers trail down my chest, across my abs, and then lower, and I suck in a sharp breath when she wraps her hand around my hard length.

"Mads—" My voice breaks, the sensation almost too much.

She smirks against my lips. "Relax," she whispers, her grip firm but gentle. "I've got you."

And she does. Her hand moves with expert precision, like she knows exactly what I need, exactly how to touch me—like she's done this before, many times before. I quickly shove that thought right out of my mind.

The realization hits me—she has no idea this is my first time. She's the first to touch me like this, and for some reason, I don't want to tell her. I don't want her to stop or slow down or treat me any differently.

I press her harder against the tile, my breathing ragged as she continues her ministrations. Water cascades between us, but I barely notice, too lost in the feeling of her hand around my cock, the look in her eyes as she watches my reactions.

"Feel good?" she asks, her voice husky.

I can only nod, doing my best to stifle a moan, words beyond me now.

Her free hand tangles in my hair, pulling me down for a kiss that's all heat and need. I groan into her mouth, feeling the pressure building, knowing I'm not going to last.

"Mads, I can't—" I try to warn her, my hands gripping her waist so tight, I'm afraid I might leave bruises.

"Then don't," she whispers against my ear, her pace increasing. "Let go. Come for me, Jax."

That's all it takes. Her permission. Her demand .

I come undone, my body shuddering against hers, my cum painting the shower wall, a strangled version of her name escaping my lips. The world narrows to just her—her touch, her scent, her eyes watching me fall apart.

When I can think again, I'm slumped against her, both of us breathing hard. She looks pleased with herself, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

"Shit," I manage, half-laughing, half-gasping. "That was..."

"Mhmm," she finishes for me, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.

Something shifts in her expression then—a flash of vulnerability quickly masked. She turns away, reaching for the shampoo, and I realize she's retreating. Not physically, but emotionally, like she's afraid of what just happened between us so she's putting her walls back up.

I don't let her get away that easily. I take the shampoo from her hands, pouring some into my palm before working it into her hair. She stiffens for a moment, surprised by the tender gesture, but then she relaxes into my touch.

"Feel good?" I ask, my voice steadier now.

She glances over her shoulder, that mask slipping back into place. "You don't have to?—"

"I want to," I cut her off, my hands massaging her scalp. "I want to make you feel good too."

Something flickers in her eyes—uncertainty, maybe, like she's not used to someone wanting to please her without expecting anything in return. It’s almost like she's waiting for the other shoe to drop.

"Let me," I whisper, turning her to face me.

She hesitates then nods, allowing me to rinse the shampoo from her hair. I take my time, making sure every touch communicates what I can't.

This means something to me. She means something to me. This isn't casual for me—it never has been, and it never will be.

When we finally step out of the shower, I wrap her in a towel, pulling her close. For a moment, she lets herself lean into me, her guard down just enough that I can see the real Madison—not the confident girl who just took me apart with skilled hands, but someone softer, someone who might be just as afraid of this thing between us as I am.

Then, the moment passes. She steps back, that familiar smirk returning to her lips, but her eyes remain vulnerable, uncertain.

"Come on," I say softly, taking her hand. "Let's get ready for bed."

I lead her into her bedroom, both of us still wrapped in towels, water dripping from our hair. The tension between us has shifted—no longer just physical desire, but something deeper, something more complex.

I understand then. She's afraid of the intensity, afraid of what this means, afraid that once we cross this line completely, there's no going back.

I brush my thumb across her cheek, my touch gentle. "Mads, look at me."

She does, those hazel eyes locking onto mine.

"This changes nothing," I say firmly. "And everything. In all the best ways."

Her breath hitches. "Jax?—"

"I want you," I continue, needing her to understand. "Not just tonight. Not just for now. I want all of you, in every way possible."

Something in her expression shifts, a quiet acceptance replacing the fear. She reaches for me, her hand cupping my jaw, her thumb tracing my lower lip.

"Show me," she whispers, and the vulnerability in her voice nearly undoes me.

I stand, gently pushing her back onto the bed, my body hovering over hers. The towel slips away, leaving her exposed beneath me, her hair fanned out across the pillow.

She's never looked more beautiful than she does right now—open, honest, giving herself to me in a way I know isn't easy for her.

I lower my head, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "I've got you, baby. I promise."