Page 120 of Shadows of Obsession

"Traitor," I accused the horse fondly. "I spend all morning brushing you, and he shows up with one apple and you're all over him."

"What can I say?" Jaxon grinned, that crooked smile that made my heart flutter. "I'm irresistible."

"You certainly are," I murmured, stepping closer to him.

The playfulness in his eyes shifted to something warmer, deeper. His hand came up to cup the uninjured side of my face, and I leaned into his touch.

"Anna," he breathed, my name a question and a statement all at once.

I answered by rising on my toes and pressing my lips to his. The kiss was gentle at first, mindful of my injuries, but when I made a soft sound of encouragement, Jaxon deepened it.

When we finally pulled apart, both of us breathing a bit harder, Jaxon rested his forehead against mine.

Choco snorted, clearly annoyed that we were ignoring him, and we both laughed. A bright, genuine sound that echoed through the barn.

By late afternoon, we'd made our way back to the house. The physical activity had been good but exhausting, and I could feel fatigue tugging at my bones.

"How about I make dinner?" I offered as we entered the kitchen. "Nothing fancy, but I've been craving lasagna."

"You sure you're up for it?" Jaxon asked, concern flickering across his features.

"I'm sure. Besides, cooking is soothing. The routine of it, you know?"

He nodded, understanding. "Okay. But I'm helping."

We worked together in the kitchen, moving around each other with an ease that felt natural despite the newness of our relationship. Jaxon chopped vegetables while I assembled the layers of pasta, sauce, and cheese. We talked about nothing and everything, his plans for repairing the cabin, my ideas for expanding the tack room, whether we should tell Connor about us when he got home or let him figure it out on his own.

"He's going to know the second he sees us together," I said, spreading another layer of ricotta. "We're not exactly subtle."

"Do you want to call him? Give him a heads-up?" Jaxon asked.

I considered it, then shook my head. "No. He'll be home in a couple of days anyway. We can tell him then."

I preferred to tell him face-to-face. Like adults. Like people who aren't hiding anything.

As I slid the lasagna into the oven and set the timer, a sense of accomplishment washed over me. Such a simple thing, making dinner, but it felt monumental. A quiet reclaiming of domestic normalcy after the violence and trauma.

I closed the oven door and straightened, only to feel Jaxon's strong hands grip my hips from behind. The touch sent a shiver down my spine—not of fear, but of anticipation.

With a playful grin, he effortlessly lifted me onto the cool marble countertop. The sudden change in position drew a delighted laugh from my lips, the sound surprising me with its genuineness.

Instinctively, my hands found their way to Jaxon's broad shoulders, my fingers curling into the soft fabric of his shirt as he stepped between my parted legs. His arms circled my waist, drawing me flush against his solid chest, and I melted into his embrace, savoring the warmth and security of his body against mine.

"Hi," he murmured, his eyes dancing with affection and something deeper, something more heated.

"Hi," I breathed back, my heart racing in the best possible way.

Our lips met in a tender kiss, a wordless affirmation of everything we'd endured, everything we'd survived, everything we were building together. As the kiss deepened, my arms wound around Jaxon's neck, my fingers tangling in the silky strands at his nape. The sensation sent pleasant tingles through me, warmth pooling low in my belly.

Lost in the intoxicating taste and feel of him, I barely registered his hands tightening on my hips, drawing me closer to the edge of the counter, closer to the heat of his body.

I needed him closer.

My legs wrapped around Jaxon's waist of their own accord, my ankles crossing behind his back. The desire to eliminate the last bit of distance between us was overwhelming in its intensity. I could feel every hard plane of muscle, the undeniable evidence of his desire, and it made me dizzy with want.

A soft moan escaped my throat as he gently nipped at my bottom lip, a delicious mix of pleasure and the faintest sting of pain thatmade me arch against him, craving more. His hands slid from my hips to my lower back, pressing me impossibly closer.

"Anna," he groaned against my mouth, the raw need in his voice sending electricity racing through my veins.