I look up at him from beneath my lashes, and the view nearly steals my breath. He’s looking back at me with a feral hunger in his shadowy depths as he grips the edge of the desk like it’s the only thing stopping him from full collapse.
“I’m gonna come down your fucking throat if you don’t pull away,” he says in a strangled voice.
I release him from my mouth with a pop, working him over with my hands. “Do it. Come for me, Cowboy.”
He throws his head back and groans, coating my tongue and chin with his release. His hat tumbles to the floor, forgotten alongside what remains of my inhibitions.
I rise on shaking legs and pull down his bandana to reveal the devastating grin hidden beneath. Jaxon meets me halfway, stealing the last remaining breath from my lungs.
His tongue delves between my lips, seemingly unbothered by the taste of him still lingering there. “Sweet Jesus. Are you sure that was your first time? You sucked the fucking life out of me.”
A giggle bubbles out of me. “I think I’d remember doing something like that before.”
He unties the bandana and gently wipes my face. “It is a goddamn privilege to be your first.”
The raw sentiment unravels me. I thread my fingers through his and pull him toward the sofa.
He settles us into a reclined position with his hand on my hip. I close my eyes and rest my cheek against his hard chest, tracing the delicate line of one of his tattoos. I wonder if he’d let me color these instead of my books.
My eyes catch on a framed photo perched on a bookshelf. It’s unmistakably a younger version of Jax standing next to another young man about his age. If I had to guess, I’d say it was taken somewhere on the ranch.
“Who’s that?” I ask.
His grip on my hip tightens almost imperceptibly, like he’s afraid I might try to escape.
At first, he doesn’t answer. Maybe I overstepped.
“His name was Ryan. He was my best friend.”
Was.
I see them now, more clearly than before. Where my scars are physical, visible for all the world to see if I let them, his are buried beneath the surface of this playful facade he wears. I want to know more—to find out if his damage matches mine in a way.
“What happened to him?” I ask.
He retreats into himself, closing the door on whatever temporary connection we shared. “I don’t like to talk about it.”
A well of emotion pulls me under, and I find myself blinking back tears for the second time today. It’s stupid, really. I’m not entitled to know his story any more than he’s entitled to mine. If I examine this moment too closely, I might break, so I shut down the part of me that longs to feel something deeper and let sadness fade into oblivion, listening to Jaxon’s heartbeat beneath my ear.
I wanted to believe I could mean something to someone, but I have a lifetime of evidence that only proves otherwise. What’s one more disappointment?
Jaxon
I glance down at the stunning woman fast asleep on my chest, half convinced I’m still dreaming. She driftedoff after she came all over my hand again, and her body is still draped over me. I wasn’t going to leave her wanting after she gave me the most mind-blowing blowjob of my life. Her sweet scent invades my senses, but it’s tinged with hints of my cologne. I kiss her forehead for one more confirmation.
She’s real, and she’s mine.
Her full lashes flutter against her cheeks, and those gorgeous eyes meet mine.
“Morning, beautiful. How’d you sleep?”
She gives me an adorable, tired smile, stretching like a cat. “So good.”
Her sleepy voice reminds me of her quiet pleas as I brought her to the brink of orgasm the night before, and my dick stirs at the memory. For years, I dreamed of waking up just like this; the only thing that would make this better is if I had my cock buried inside of her.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” she asks.
“Trying to decide if I want to feed you or devour you for breakfast.”
