“Squirt?” he whispers. “Are you still awake?”
Jax.
My pulse slows. “No. I’m sleeping. This is her night time ghost that watches over her,” I whisper back.
“Dumbass,” he huffs and walks into the room.
He strips out of his clothes, leaving only his boxers on, and climbs into bed, laying on his back. I roll over to face him. “Everything ok? You’re home early.”
“Yea,” he pauses, like there are other words on his tongue, but he can’t figure out a way to say them.
“Ok.” We lay there quietly for a moment. He stares at the ceiling with his hands tucked under his head, his chest slowly rising.
I know he’s like Knox in a lot of ways, each needing their space and their time to deal with and process things.
“I haven’t said it.”
It.
Those three little words.
I had an idea his distance lately was because of that. To be fair, I haven’t said it either, but it’s because I didn’t want to push him into something he wasn’t ready for. And it’s fine. I’m ok with him telling me when he’s ready not because he feels forced. Would it be nice to hear the words? Abso-fucking-lutely, but I get it.
“I know. It’s ok.” I reach across the space and put my hand on his chest.
He rolls over to look at me and in a quick move slides his arm between my legs, grabs my ass and pulls me across the space between us and nearly pulls me on top of him. My breath leaves my lungs as I look down at him before laying my head on his chest.
His fingers mindlessly move up and down my back like silk on my skin, but they keep getting hooked on my shirt. I love love love my back being rubbed and part of me is scared if I move, he’ll stop. Don’t you always freeze like a statue, scared to breathe if someone starts rubbing your back, for fear they’ll realize what they’re doing and stop?
He does it a few more times, so I risk the move. “Hold on.” I awkwardly sit up from my position and slip my shirt over my head. I ignore his blown puff of air when he sees my breasts, and I lay back down, resting my head on his chest and throwing my leg over his waist.
He puts his hand on my back, but he doesn’t move it and I beat myself up.
Amateur hour, Everlee. You know the rules of the back rubbing game.
Never move.
Barely breathe.
I nuzzle my head on his chest and hope my back moving ever so slightly under his touch will kick start his hand, as if it were a lawnmower needing to get started. A moment later we have movement. He continues to rub my back, but the air in the room is still weird. I know there is something on his mind, but I won’t push him. He shows me more love than Rich ever did, even as he was saying he loved me. I feel like I’ve gotten to a stage in my life where actions are more important than words. Or maybe I have to be at this stage with these boys because of our arrangement.
After a few minutes, I can feel his cock hardening and pressing up against the underside of my thigh, like a snake poking its head out of a hole.
“Did you have a good night tonight?” I ask softly.
“Yea.”
“Why did you come home?”
Silence.
I wanted to know, but I also didn’t want to push. It sounded like he came straight to my room as soon as he walked through the door, like I was his reasoning for coming home. But that would be weird, right?
He shifts a little. “Did you enjoy the hot tub?”
“I did. I’m pretty sure it knocked me out. Well, that and the drinks and general conversation with Lizzy.”
“That’s pretty exhausting.”
