The bacon is delicious. He’s delicious. Everything he does is annoyingly perfect, and I hate how much I notice every single detail about him. The way his jaw works when he chews. The little satisfied sound he makes after taking a sip of coffee. The way his tee stretches across his shoulders when he reaches for another piece of toast.
I’m staring. Again. Stop staring, Sloane.
But it’s impossible not to. Not when he’s right here, all masculine and capable and smelling like woodsmoke and pine and something that makes me want to climb into his lap.
“This is really good,” I manage, taking another bite to give myself something to do besides imagining what those shoulders would feel like under my hands. I kissed this man last night. Tried to kiss him. Missed. Then he kissed me back. Willingly, hesaid. My cheeks burn and my thighs clench just thinking about it.
“Are you okay?” Jax asks, and when I look up, those hazel eyes are studying me with an intensity that makes my stomach flip. There’s heat there. Awareness.
“Fine,” I lie, my voice breathy. “Just thinking.”
“About?” His eyes drop to my mouth for just a second. It’s quick, but I catch it, and the look sends heat pooling low in my belly.
“About how I made a complete fool of myself last night.” The words tumble out. “I’m really sorry, Jax. That was so inappropriate …”
“Sloane.” He sets his plate down and turns to face me fully. The couch feels three sizes too small. Our knees brush, and that simple contact sends heat racing up my thigh. “We already talked about this.”
I know, but my brain likes to, you know, relive my most embarrassing moments rent-free inside it. “You could get in trouble. This is your job, and I just ... threw myself at you.”
“You didn’t throw yourself at me, technically.” His voice drops lower, rougher, and I feel it everywhere. “You were drunk and emotional, and you kissed me because you needed someone. That’s human.”
Why is he so nice? “But you’re not supposed to be my comfort. You’re supposed to be my rescuer. There’s a difference.”
The air between us crackles. His eyes darken. “What if I want to be both?” he asks, his voice low.
My breath catches. “Jax ...”
“I’m just saying.” He picks up his coffee mug and takes a sip like he didn’t just say something that made my entire world tilt. “The rescue part is done. You’re safe. The roads are blocked.We’re stuck here together. Maybe we can just ... be people for a while.
“People,” I repeat.
“Yeah. People. Who talk. Who, get to know each other.” He pauses, his eyes meeting mine. “If you want. No pressure. But if you want to talk about what happened with your ex, I’m a pretty good listener.”
I should say no. Should change the subject. Should maintain some kind of professional boundary even though we’ve already obliterated that particular fence. But the thing is, I want to talk about it. Need to, maybe. And Jax ... God, Jax makes it feel safe. Makes it feel like I can say anything and he won’t judge me for it.
I let out a heavy sigh. “As you know, his name is Chett,” I start, surprised by how steady my voice sounds. “We’d been together for nine years. Living together for five. College sweethearts.” Jax nods, encouraging but not pushing. “I thought ...” I laugh, but it sounds bitter even to my own ears. “I thought we were happy. I really did. We talked about getting married. About buying a house. All the things you’re supposed to want, you know?”
“And then you caught him cheating?” His voice is gentle.
I take a deep breath. “Yeah. I came home early from work one day. I’d been feeling like something was off for a while, but I kept telling myself I was being paranoid. That I was stressed about work. But that day, I decided to trust my gut.” I can still see it. Walking into our apartment. Hearing the sounds from the kitchen. The way my heart had dropped into my stomach. “I found him fucking his assistant over the kitchen bench. Cliché, right?” I try to laugh again, but it comes out more like a choke. “Her name is Brittany. She has one of those Instagram accounts where everything is perfectly filtered and she does yoga and drinks green smoothies.” The tears start to fall.
“Sloane …”
“The worst part wasn’t even catching them,” I continue, the words spilling out now that I’ve started. “It was what he said after. He tried to apologize, obviously. Cried. Begged me to forgive him. Said it didn’t mean anything.” I look up at Jax, and there’s something fierce in his expression. Protective. “And then he said ...” I have to pause to swallow past the lump in my throat. “He said it was my fault because I’d been distant. That I’d been working too much. That I’d let myself go. That I wasn’t giving him enough attention. That Brittany made him feel wanted in ways I didn’t anymore.”
The rage on Jax’s face says it all. “What a fucking coward. He blamed you.” It’s not a question. Jax’s voice is flat, dangerous.
“And the really messed-up part? I believed him. I stood there and thought, maybe he’s right. Maybe I did this. Maybe if I’d been better, prettier, more attentive, he wouldn’t have needed to find it somewhere else,” I confess through hiccupped tears.
“That’s bullshit.” Jax’s voice cuts through my spiral. “That’s complete and utter bullshit, Sloane.” He reaches out and pulls me into his side, those strong arms comforting. Snapshots of those same arms holding me as he took me to bed race through my mind. I bury my face into his strong chest and inhale his woodsy scent. I don’t mean to rub myself against him like a cat in heat, but I do. He’s all hard plains and delicious muscles. “If someone cheats, that’s on them. Nothing you did or didn’t do. He made a choice. A shitty, selfish choice. And then he tried to make you feel responsible for it because he’s too much of a coward to own his own actions,” he says against my head as his hand strokes my hair. Goosebumps line my skin as something in my chest loosens at his words. Eases.
“My best friend Riley said the same thing,” I admit. “She wanted to key his car. Nearly did. I had to physically restrain her.” The memory makes me laugh.
I feel his chest rumble with a laugh, too. “I like your best friend.”
“She’s terrifying,” I say, but I smile too now. “In the best way.”
“How long ago did you find out?” he asks.
