Page 9

J ax

Lauren's apartment was located in a converted warehouse near the water. The space was open and airy, with high ceilings and large windows currently reflecting the city lights. The furnishings were a blend of modern and vintage pieces, chosen for comfort rather than fashion, with colorful throw pillows scattered across every chair.

What caught his attention most, however, were the photographs that lined one wall—breathtaking nature shots and animal portraits that captured moments of startling intimacy.

"These are incredible," he said, moving closer to examine a particularly striking image of a wolf in mid-howl, snow swirling around its upturned muzzle.

"Thank you," Lauren said, coming out of the bedroom after changing into more comfortable clothes. He had slung off his jacket and stuffed his tie in his pocket. "Photography was my first love, before veterinary medicine. Now it's just a hobby."

"You took all of these?" Jax asked, genuinely impressed as he studied another photograph—a hummingbird captured in perfect stillness, its wings a blur of motion.

"Most of them," she confirmed, removing her heels with a sigh of relief. "Make yourself comfortable. I'll start on those omelets."

Jax continued to study the photos, drawn to the care and patience evident in each shot. They revealed something about Lauren he'd only glimpsed before—an artist's eye for beauty, a willingness to wait for the perfect moment, a respect for her subjects that translated into startling intimacy.

"Can I help with anything?" he offered, moving to the kitchen where Lauren was already gathering ingredients from the refrigerator.

"You can chop these," she suggested, setting bell peppers, mushrooms, and green onions on a cutting board. "If you trust those hands to handle a knife rather than a hockey stick."

The teasing note in her voice made him smile. "I'll have you know I'm quite skilled with kitchen implements. I make a decent stir-fry."

Lauren raised an eyebrow, handing him a knife. "A man of hidden talents."

"A few," he agreed, their fingers brushing during the exchange, the brief contact sending a pleasant warmth through him.

They worked together for a few minutes, the domestic scene striking Jax with its unexpected rightness. How long had it been since he'd done something this normal, this intimate, with a woman? His dating life since joining the Chill had been a series of brief, often superficial connections—women attracted to his status as a professional athlete rather than interested in the man behind the enforcer persona.

"You're staring," Lauren observed without looking up from the eggs she was whisking.

"Sorry," Jax said, a rare flush creeping up his neck. "Just appreciating the view."

Now she did look up, her green eyes meeting his with a directness that stole his breath. "The omelets or the chef?"

"Both," he admitted honestly. "But mostly the chef."

A smile curved her lips and he was riveted. He wanted their first kiss. Their first everything.

"You're not so bad yourself," she replied, her gaze sweeping over him in a way that made his pulse quicken. "Especially in formal wear. Though I have to admit, the hockey uniform has grown on me."

"Has it?" Jax asked, genuinely curious about her evolution from someone who'd recoiled at the violence of his sport to someone who now attended games regularly.

Lauren considered her answer as she poured the eggs into a waiting pan. "I've come to appreciate the strategy, the skill involved. It's more than I initially gave it credit for."

"And the fighting?" he prompted, wanting to hear her honest assessment.

She was quiet for a moment, focusing on the cooking eggs. "I understand it better," she finally said. "The context, the purpose. I still don't enjoy watching it, but I see that it's more complex than I initially thought."

It was a measured response, thoughtful rather than reflexively judgmental, and Jax appreciated her honesty. "That's fair," he acknowledged. "It's a complicated part of the game. One that's changing."

"Like your role," Lauren observed, glancing at him. "Coach Vicky mentioned you're taking on more defensive responsibilities."

Jax nodded, sliding the chopped vegetables her way. "The game's evolving. I either evolve with it or get left behind."

Lauren added the vegetables to the eggs, her movements efficient and practiced. "Is that difficult? Changing a role you've played for so long?"

The question struck at something fundamental, something Jax had been grappling with throughout the season. "Yes," he admitted. "It's... disorienting. The enforcer role has clear boundaries, clear expectations. This new approach is less defined."

"But potentially more lasting," Lauren suggested. "From what little I understand about hockey, a pure enforcer has a limited shelf life."

"Very true," Jax acknowledged with a rueful smile. "The body can only take so many punches." He rubbed absently at his knuckles, where a hairline fracture from last season still ached when the weather turned cold. "My agent's been warning me that the league is cracking down harder on fighting. The new commissioner wants to clean up the game's image."

Lauren glanced at his hands. "And how do you feel about that?"

"Conflicted," he admitted. "Part of me knows it's the right direction. The other part wonders what happens to players like me when that part of the game disappears entirely."

Her eyes held his for a long moment. "You're more than just your fists, Jax."

The simple statement, delivered with such conviction, left him momentarily speechless.

Lauren divided the omelet onto two plates, adding toast and sliced fruit before carrying them to the small dining table by the windows. As they settled across from each other, the intimate setting—soft lighting, city views, the late hour—made Jax's heart beat faster.

"This looks amazing," he said, genuinely impressed by the simple but perfect meal.

"I'm a decent cook when I have time," Lauren replied, pouring two glasses of orange juice. "Between emergency calls and shelter volunteer hours, that's not as often as I'd like."

"I know the feeling," Jax said. "During the season, nutrition becomes functional rather than enjoyable."

They ate in shared quiet for a few moments, the fatigue of the long evening settling over them both.

"Thank you for inviting me tonight," Lauren said finally. "I enjoyed it more than I expected."

"Even the awkward team interrogation?" Jax asked wryly, thinking of how his teammates had practically lined up to meet her.

Lauren laughed, the sound warm and genuine. "Even that. They care about you. It's nice to see."

"They're nosy," Jax corrected, though there was no heat in it. "But yes, they're also protective. We spend more time together than with our families during the season."

"Your hockey family," Lauren observed, perceptive as always.

"Exactly." Jax studied her across the table, struck again by how right this felt—talking with her, sharing a meal, existing in the same space without pressure to fill every moment with words. "What about you? You've mentioned Barb, but are you close with your family?"

A shadow crossed Lauren's face. "Not particularly. My mother passed away when I was in college. Cancer. My father..." she hesitated, then continued with careful neutrality, "we speak occasionally, but we've never been close."

Jax recognized the deliberate distance in her tone—the same way he spoke of his own father on the rare occasions the subject came up. "I'm sorry about your mother," he said quietly.

"Thank you." Lauren's smile was tinged with sadness. "She would have liked you, I think. She had a soft spot for people who appeared tough on the outside but were gentle inside."

"Like you with animals," Jax observed.

Lauren looked surprised, then thoughtful. "I never considered that parallel, but yes, I suppose so."

"Is that why you became a vet?" he asked. "Because of your mother?"

"Partly," Lauren acknowledged. "She volunteered at animal shelters when I was growing up. Taught me to see the personality behind the fear, the potential behind the aggression. When she got sick my sophomore year, I switched majors from photography to pre-vet. It felt like a way to honor her."

The simple explanation carried weight, revealing layers to Lauren he'd only glimpsed before. Jax wanted to know more—every experience that had shaped her, every story behind her choices.

He rubbed his thumb over a small scar on the back of his hand, a nervous habit he'd developed years ago. "Was your father supportive? Of the career change?"

Lauren's expression hardened slightly. "No. He wanted me to finish the photography degree. Said veterinary school was too expensive, too competitive." She took a sip of her juice. "What he meant was that it was too ambitious for his daughter."

Jax waited, sensing there was more.

"My father..." Lauren began, then paused, seeming to choose her words carefully. "He had very specific ideas about what women should and shouldn't do. My mother's illness changed him. Made him more controlling." She twisted her napkin in her hands. "He never hit us, but there was a... volatility to him. Things would break. Doors would slam. Words became weapons."

The familiar description made Jax's throat tighten. He reached across the table instinctively, his hand covering hers.

"After Mom died, I applied to vet school without telling him. When I got accepted, he told me I was on my own." Lauren gave a small shrug that didn't quite hide the hurt. "And I was. Scholarships, student loans, three jobs. But I made it."

"You're remarkable," Jax said softly.

Lauren turned her hand beneath his, their fingers intertwining. "What about you?" she asked, her eyes meeting his. "How does a boy become an NHL enforcer?"

Jax considered how to answer, how much to reveal of a past he rarely discussed. "By being big early," he said finally. "I was always the tallest kid in my class, and hockey coaches saw that as an asset. But I was also clumsy with the puck, so they put me on defense and taught me to use my size."

"And the fighting?" Lauren prompted gently.

Jax stared out the window at the city lights, memories surfacing that he usually kept buried. "That came later. Junior hockey. I had... anger issues as a teenager. Coaches channeled it into something useful on the ice. Gave it rules, boundaries."

"Control," Lauren said softly, understanding immediately.

"Exactly." Jax met her gaze, finding no judgment there, just quiet comprehension. "Fighting in hockey has codes, expectations. It's contained violence, not chaos. That distinction mattered to me."

He took a deep breath, his thumb tracing small circles on the back of her hand. "My father was a mean drunk. Unpredictable. Some nights he'd come home and it would be laughs and presents. Other nights..." His jaw clenched. "My mother took the worst of it. Until I got big enough to step between them."

Lauren's fingers tightened around his.

"The first time I hit back, I was sixteen. He was coming at my mom with a broken bottle." Jax's voice had dropped to almost a whisper. "I put him through the coffee table. He needed seventeen stitches."

"Jax," Lauren breathed, her free hand reaching across the table to touch his face.

"After that, I was afraid of what I could do. What I was capable of." His eyes met hers. "Hockey gave me a place where that capacity for violence had boundaries. Where it protected people instead of hurting them."

Lauren's palm was warm against his cheek, her touch like an anchor. "That's why you're so gentle with the animals at the shelter," she said softly. "Why you brought in that kitten at two in the morning."

Something tight in Jax's chest loosened at her words, at being seen so clearly. "Maybe," he admitted. "I never really thought about it."

"Thank you for telling me," she said, her voice steady despite the brightness in her eyes. "For trusting me with that."

Jax turned his head slightly, his lips brushing against her palm in a gesture that was half gratitude, half something deeper. "Thank you for asking," he replied. "For wanting to understand."

The moment stretched between them, charged with potential, with unspoken possibilities. Jax studied the curve of her lips, the light dusting of freckles across her nose, the way her blonde hair caught the dim light.

"Jax," she said softly, her free hand still caressing his face, fingertips tracing the line of his jaw with gentle curiosity.

The sound of his name on her lips, the tentative exploration of her touch—it was his undoing. With careful deliberation, giving her every opportunity to pull away, Jax leaned across the small table. Her eyes met his, unwavering, before they drifted closed as his lips finally found hers.

The kiss was gentle at first, a question rather than a demand. Her lips were soft beneath his, yielding but not passive as she responded with equal care. When her hand slid to the back of his neck, fingers threading through his short hair, Jax deepened the kiss, tasting the faint sweetness of the orange juice and something else, something uniquely Lauren.

His hand cupped her cheek, thumb stroking along her jawline as their lips moved together with increasing hunger. When her mouth parted beneath his, the first touch of her tongue against his sent heat coursing through him, fierce and demanding.

Time seemed to slow, the world narrowing to the points where they connected—lips, hands, the shared breath between them. When they finally parted, Jax rested his forehead against hers, unwilling to move too far from this newfound closeness.

"I've been wanting to do that f all night," he admitted, voice rough with emotion.

"Why didn't you?"

"The boys would’ve been brutal."

She laughed softly, the sound warming him from the inside out. Then, with a boldness that surprised and delighted him, she rose from her chair and moved around the table, never releasing his hand.

"Come here," she said simply, tugging him to his feet.

Jax followed willingly, allowing her to lead him to the couch where she settled beside him, close enough that her thigh pressed against his.

"This feels..." Lauren began, then paused, searching for the right word.

"Unexpected?" Jax suggested.

"Yes," she agreed. "But also surprisingly right."

The simple honesty of the statement resonated deeply with Jax. "I know exactly what you mean," he said, his arm draping carefully along the back of the couch behind her, not quite touching but close enough that she could feel his warmth. "When I brought that kitten into your clinic, I never imagined we'd end up here."

"On my couch after a charity gala, talking about our childhoods?" Lauren's smile was teasing, but her eyes were soft as they held his.

"Something like that," Jax agreed, his fingers tentatively brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face. "Though I'll admit, I hoped we might."

Lauren leaned into his touch, her eyes never leaving his. "Despite my initial judgment?" she asked, a hint of apology in her voice. "I wasn't exactly welcoming that first night."

"You were protective," Jax corrected. "Of your patients, of your boundaries. I respected that." His voice dropped lower, more intimate. "Still do."

She studied him for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. "You're not at all what I expected."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?" he asked, genuinely wanting to know.

Lauren's answer came in the form of her lips pressing firmly against his, the kiss bolder than before. Jax responded with equal passion, one hand cupping the nape of her neck while the other slid to her waist.

This time, their tongues met and danced together, a languid exploration that conveyed weeks of pent-up desire. Lauren's body molded to his, her fingers digging into the fabric of his shirt as she sought to be even closer. Her soft moan vibrated against his mouth when he playfully bit down on her bottom lip.

Keeping their mouths locked together, Lauren gracefully swung one leg over Jax's lap, now straddling him with a sultry confidence. She pressed herself against his hardness and ground against him. He relished in the friction and growled low in his throat.

Lauren broke their kiss, her eyes heavy-lidded and hazy with desire as she gazed down at Jax. She trailed her fingers down his chest, tracing the ridges of his ab muscles before reaching for the hem of his shirt.

“Take this off.” She tugged it upwards. Jax raised his arms, helping her remove it and toss it aside.

Now bare-chested, Jax reached for Lauren, his hands sliding up her sides and underneath her top. His fingers brushed against the soft skin of her back, sending shivers down her spine. He found the clasp of Lauren's bra, deftly undoing it with a flick of his wrist. Her breasts spilled free, her nipples pebbled with desire. He cupped them in his hands, teasing them with his thumbs as Lauren threw her head back and moaned.

He pulled off her shirt and bent his head to take her nipple into his mouth, sucking with a gentle tug. Her breath hitched and she threaded her fingers through his hair, still rocking on his hardness. Trailing his lips down Lauren's stomach, kissing and nipping at her sensitive spots, he pushed her back on the couch. She squirmed beneath his touch, a mixture of anticipation and need building inside her. He reached the waistband of her pants and hooked his thumbs in the band, slowly dragging them down over her hips.

Her phone rang.

“No,” she whispered.

His phone rang.

“No,” he said.

But the mood was broken. With a frustrated groan and a throbbing in his pants, he fished out his phone from his back pocket. She grabbed her shirt and put it on. Her phone had stopped and then started ringing again.

He let Vicky go to voice mail, but read the message as she was leaving it live: "Morning skate at six."

“Six?” he said incredulously. That was pure evil after a nice of drinking and debauchery. And the debauchery had just barely got started.

“I need to go in to the clinic. Barb needs me. It’s an emergency surgery.”

“At this hour?” he asked.

“We’re open twenty-four hours.” she said, reaching for her bra. She held it awkwardly. “I’m sorry we got interrupted.”

He adjusted himself with a grimace. “Me too. Especially since my schedule is going to be bonkers this week.”

“I’m not going anywhere. I can wait.” She kissed him again.

He considered picking up where they left off. He could be quick. But he didn’t want their first time to be quick. He broke off the steamy kiss, but not before he grabbed her luscious ass with both hands and held her to his rock hard cock.

“Mmm,” she said and gave him a look under her eyelids that nearly undid him.

“Soon,” he promised.

“Soon,” she agreed.