Page 23

JACKSON

Before I even open my eyes, I’m assaulted by the sounds of the city and the same unnatural glow we fell asleep to.

“Fucking New York,” I groan and pull the pillow over my face.

No sun to warm your soul and no ocean to get lost in. Who could possibly enjoy this shithole?

Despite the unrelenting lights and the constant noise, I slept—actually slept—without nightmares or waking in panic. My head no longer throbs in pain, and I no longer have the urge to tear the skin from my bones.

Just lingering depression, but that bitch never leaves. Her claws are embedded deep, poised to drag me back into a dark abyss at any moment.

I sense Aurora’s absence. The space beside me is cold; if she were here, she’d be curled up next to me, head on my shoulder, leg between mine.

I can’t remember if we fell asleep that way, or if she gravitated to me during the night, but I vividly recall the weight of her body upon me, her fingers in my hair.

That’s how she is. When she loves, she loves with every fiber of her being.

Whenever we argued, I’d still find her on my chest in the morning. If I hadn’t abandoned her at the height of my addiction, she would’ve never left, never achieved her dreams.

A part of me understood that pushing her away was necessary to overcome our codependency. But for me, breaking free from her wasn’t possible then, and it’s not possible now. I was dead inside the entire time we were separated, and I refuse to go back.

I redirect my thoughts to what Aurora needs. Is she sick? I don’t hear her in the bathroom.

She’s probably eating one of Ricky’s damn prepared meals.

I leap out of bed and dash toward the door, eager to slap the food right out of her hand.

The moment I exit the bedroom, seductive music fills the air, emanating from the living area.

Okay, I can get down with this.

I envision cooking Aurora breakfast, wrapping my arms around her from behind as she eats, caressing her tiny baby bump, inhaling her sweet vanilla scent?—

My feet come to an abrupt halt.

Her back is against the brick wall, her neck arched, and her mouth open in pleasure, as if someone were on their knees, their face buried between her thighs.

She’s doing a photo shoot. In the living room. In lingerie.

What a fucking way to wake up.

I only wish I had my phone to send Ethan a pic.

Captivated, I watch the photographer move in, focused entirely too much on her full tits. She tilts her head, bites her bottom lip, and gazes at the camera with hooded, lusty eyes.

God. Damn. I need to buy every photo. No one else should see her in black lace, looking like an orgasm personified.

“Wow. I guess now, we know why she keeps you around.” That voice, nails on a chalkboard, shifts to Aurora. “I hope you had him tested before you jumped back into bed with him.”

Cue record scratch. My worst nightmare is here—the wicked witch of the west.

Emily’s thirsty gaze traces the contours of my nearly-naked body. My excitement dies along with my morning wood, and my hands shoot to cover myself.

Cheeks flushed, Aurora narrows her eyes at my diminishing erection, then at her ex-best friend. “Emily—” she starts.

“Fuck you,” I snap, unwilling to let Aurora bear the weight of my mistakes.

Emily’s face lights up; she’s delighted to push my buttons or have my attention, not sure which. “No thanks. I have standards.”

That makes me scoff. “Really? You’ve fucked half the hockey team. What are your standards? A jersey and a padded bank account?”

“A clean dick,” she taunts me with a smug smile.

I step forward, not giving a damn about my undressed state or the photographer gawking, only about defending my relationship. “I haven’t been with anyone except Aurora in over five years, so get off my clean dick.”

Emily rolls her eyes. “Yeah, okay, Jackson. Save your breath. I’m not stupid.”

I don’t miss her low jabs at Aurora, and it’s the last thing I’ll tolerate. She can talk shit about me all she wants, but not my girl. I come at her, finger pointed. “That’s the second time?—”

“Get out!” Aurora’s exasperated tone cuts through the air like a sharp blade.

My heart skips with fear and regret. I should’ve shut my mouth and walked away. I’m the one who convinced Emily to return—and when I say convinced, I mean paid—and here I am, fucking it all up again.

I face Aurora, ready to fall to my knees and beg for her forgiveness, but for once, it’s not me.

She glares at her assistant with outright murder in her eyes. “Leave.”

A mocking cackle, sharp and brittle, escapes Emily’s lips. “Are you serious?”

“This is my place. I’ll have whoever I want here. I’ll fuck whoever I want. It’s none of your business. You’ve dropped off the collection, and now, you can go.” At that, she turns her back and grabs a black satin robe.

Damn , Aurora is fucking hot when she’s angry at someone else.

Emily stands stunned, mouth hanging open—that makes two of us—before she shakes her head, gathers her belongings, and walks out.

“Jackson!”

Fury dances in Aurora’s eyes, and my dick twitches.

“Yes, babe.”

“Put some clothes on.”

“Come here.” Before she can refuse me, I draw her into my chest. “Good morning. You’re fucking hot when you’re jealous. Have you eaten?”

She shoves my shoulder. “You’re impossible.”

“And you’re irresistible.” I lower my voice for only her to hear. “Can I pin you up against the brick like that and eat your sweet little cunt?”

“Jax! Go get dressed.” The tension has left her body, her voice playful and pleading.

“Kiss me, and I’ll go get dressed before you murder someone.”

She rises on her toes, gives me a quick peck, and pulls away. “Clothes. Now.”

I spin around and head directly to the bedroom, my hands shielding what’s only hers.