Page 52

52

MADISON

T he shift of the mattress stirs me just enough to pull me from the edges of sleep.

Warmth. The scent of fresh soap and clean skin.

The familiar weight of him settling in beside me.

Jaxon.

I keep my eyes closed, my body instinctively drawn toward his, even in sleep.

His presence is steady, grounding, something I could sink into so easily.

But where’s the fun in that?

Instead, I stretch—slowly, deliberately, the soft sheets dragging along my skin as I arch my back, sighing quietly.

I feel his body tense beside me, the sharp inhale of breath he probably doesn’t even realize he takes.

Interesting.

I shift again, turning onto my side, my legs tangling with his under the sheets.

My bare thigh brushes against his as I sigh contentedly, my hand lazily drifting across his stomach.

His muscles tighten under my palm, the ridges of his abs flexing, betraying just how much control he’s using to keep himself still.

Just because I can, I move closer.

My lips barely ghost along the base of his throat, my fingers splaying across his ribs as I murmur, “Mmm…you smell good.”

Jaxon exhales sharply, and I know without looking that his jaw is locked, his hands gripping the sheets.

“Madison,” he warns, voice thick and rough from sleep.

I smile against his skin, tracing lazy circles on his stomach.

“Hmm?”

He shifts, just slightly, his arm sliding under me, his fingers tracing the curve of my waist. His touch is light—too light, like he’s waiting for me to push things further.

Like he’s waiting for permission.

A slow, delicious warmth spreads through me, the tension between us stretching thin , and I know if I press just a little harder, if I tilt my chin and look up at him, his control will snap.

Jaxon exhales sharply, his hand flexing on my hip like he’s barely holding on.

For a second, I think he’s going to flip me onto my back, press his body over mine, and take control the way I know he wants to.

Instead, he just lets out a heavy breath and mutters, “Goodnight, Madison.”

I grin against his skin, my fingers still splayed across his stomach, my body still curved into his.

So close, close enough to feel the tension rolling through him, the way his muscles are pulled taut beneath my touch, the way his breath comes just a little too fast for someone who’s supposed to be going to sleep.

But that’s not what I want.

Not tonight.

So, I tip my chin up, my lips grazing his jaw.

“Just kidding,” I whisper.

And then, I kiss him.

Jaxon groans, deep and raw, and suddenly, he’s moving.

His hands tighten on my waist, and he flips me onto my back in one, smooth motion.

His body presses into me, claiming every inch of space I gave him.

His mouth crashes against mine—hot, desperate, unrestrained—and it steals every breath I have left .

I melt beneath him, my arms winding around his neck, my fingers threading into his damp hair.

He kisses me like he’s making up for lost time, like he’s memorizing me all over again, reminding me exactly who I belong to.

And the truth is, I do belong to him.

I always have.

His body presses against me, heat radiating between us, but it’s not just need that makes my chest ache—it’s something deeper, something that tightens my throat.

He pulls back just enough to look at me, his forehead resting against mine, his thumb tracing the edge of my jaw.

I know what he’s asking without him saying a word.

Are you sure?

I don’t hesitate.

I reach up, brushing my fingers over his cheek, my voice barely a whisper as I tell him the only thing that has ever felt certain.

“I love you, Jaxon Montgomery.”

Jaxon stills, his entire body freezing, his deep brown eyes locked onto mine, and for a split second, I wonder if I said the wrong thing.

But then, he exhales, like every breath he’s ever held back is finally released, like I just gave him the words he’s been waiting to hear.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of hearing you say that.”

And then, he kisses me again—slow, reverent, full of something that feels dangerously close to forever.

The kiss quickly turns heated the second his tongue touches mine.

The urge to have him even closer takes over.

The need to have him filling me is overwhelming, especially when his hips drop down against mine and I feel his hard length.

He groans, moving enough to rub against me, and I gasp out his name.

“I need to feel you.”

“Yeah?” he asks with a playful smirk as he moves his mouth along my jaw, down my neck, my body.

“Want to feel my mouth on you? ”

The desire for just that sends a shiver down my spine as he kisses over my body, licking and lightly nipping at my skin until he’s pulling my underwear off my legs and settling between them.

“You’re so fucking perfect, baby.”

His mouth descends on my core, instantly finding my clit like he’s an expert on my body, which, at this point, he probably is.

He’s sucking and flicking it with his tongue in a way that has my release already dangerously close.

I tug at his hair, both pulling him closer to me and trying to push him away.

He chuckles against me, and the vibration has me gasping out a moan.

This time, I tug him harder, pulling his mouth up to mine, and I taste myself on him.

“I want to come with you inside me.”

I slide my fingers down his toned chest, down his abs, toward his waistband.

I tug at the fabric on his hips and he lifts slightly, allowing me to free his cock from the confines of his boxers.

He kicks the piece of clothing off completely as I wrap my hand around him in a tight grip.

Groaning, he pushes into my hand, but I want to feel him.

I need to feel him.

“Please, Jaxon,” I ask, angling the tip to my entrance, spreading my thighs further for him.

His hands tangle in my hair, pulling slightly, keeping our eyes connected as he slowly pushes in.

I’m more than ready for him, but the stretch, the feeling of his weight on me, the emotions I’m feeling, they’re all so overwhelming but in the best way.

With our gazes locked, I guide one of his hands up to my throat, pressing it there.

Something flashes in his eyes, a question, hesitance.

I encourage him by squeezing his hand just slightly, answering his silent question.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says softly.

“You never could.” I mean that in so many ways.

I know he wouldn’t hurt me, physically or emotionally.

He keeps his hand wrapped around my throat—it’s not tight enough to cut off air, but the slight pressure only adds to my arousal while we move together.

The orgasm close when his mouth was on me is back, and I’m teetering on the edge.

Everything is perfect with him; he gives me everything I need, and his forehead drops down to mine with a raspy, “Let go.”

I do.

Crying out with everything I’m feeling, truly, I let go.

Jaxon isn’t far behind me, thrusting only a couple more times before he’s burying his face in my neck with a groan.

We lay like that for a while, neither of us willing to move.

It’s after midnight when I feel his hand slip into mine under the covers.

My legs are tangled in his, my face tucked into the curve of his shoulder, our hearts finally beating in something close to sync.

I don’t know how long we lie here, quiet and still, like the world finally stopped spinning just for us.

Jaxon shifts slightly, his voice low and rough from hours of saying nothing.

“What’re you thinking about?”

There’s a pause before I answer.

It’s not because I don’t know, but because it still feels fragile, like some thoughts haven’t been spoken aloud enough to feel real.

“My mom,” I whisper.

He squeezes my hand but doesn’t speak.

“I went to see her,” I say.

“After I ran. After you…played the voicemail.”

I don’t look at him, but I can feel the way his body tenses beside me, just for a second.

He remembers.

“I didn’t plan to. I was driving, and suddenly, I was just…there.” My voice softens.

“I hadn’t been in so long. I told myself I wasn’t ready, but I sat there in the cold and told her everything. About you. About how scared I was. About how much I wanted to stop pushing you away.”

I pull in a breath and let it out slowly.

“I told her I think I’m in love.”

Jaxon doesn’t move at first. Then, his fingers find my jaw, turning my face toward him.

“You think? ”

“I know,” I say, my voice breaking just a little.

“I’ve known. I was just afraid that wanting something good would make it disappear.”

His eyes shine even in the dim light.

“You never had to be perfect, Mads. Not for me.”

“I know that now,” I whisper.

“But it took me a while to believe it.”

He leans in, brushing his lips across my forehead, then my temple.

“Thank you for telling me. For going. I think she’d be proud of you.”

“I hope so,” I say, curling closer to him.

We’re quiet for a long beat.

I think maybe that’s all he’ll say, but then he lets out a breath, tracing the inside of my wrist again.

It’s the same motion he’s been doing all night, almost like it grounds him.

“Can I tell you something too?” he says.

I nod.

“I wasn’t okay, when you left.”

I look up at him, and he’s already staring at the ceiling, like the words hurt.

“I know I acted like I was, but it tore me up. Every game, every practice—I was there, but not really. I kept playing like my body remembered how, but everything else felt…gray and dark.” He swallows.

“And I kept listening to that voicemail, over and over, like maybe if I played it enough, you’d say something different. Come back. Pick me.”

“Jax…”

He turns to me now, fully.

“You didn’t owe me that. I know. I just—” His jaw flexes.

“I didn’t know how to stop hoping.”

I slide my hand to his chest, right over his heart.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

“You didn’t mean to,” he says, then softer, “I just missed you so damn much.”

I move closer until we’re practically breathing each other in.

“I missed you too, even when I tried not to. Even when I told myself I didn’t.”

“I know,” he murmurs.

“I saw it in your eyes. You were just too busy surviving to let yourself feel it.”

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

“That day at the cemetery, something shifted. It wasn’t big or dramatic, but I didn’t run from the pain. I sat in it. I let myself miss her. And you. And who I used to be before everything fell apart.”

He brushes a tear from my cheek.

“I think that was the first time I really chose to start healing,” I whisper.

Jaxon leans in and kisses me.

It’s slow, gentle, and full of everything we’ve never needed words for.

When he pulls back, he rests his forehead against mine.

“I’ve got you now,” he says, voice steady.

“You don’t have to run anymore.”

“I don’t want to,” I whisper.

He shifts until I’m tucked against him again, his arms wrapped around me like home.

And for the first time in a long time, the silence doesn’t feel heavy.

It feels like peace.