Jax nods his head toward the hallway, so I follow him to the guest bedroom. The second I step inside, memories of Callumflood back—his bare ass walking across the room, how his penis hung when he turned around, the warmth of the bed after he left.
“Jax,” I say before he can close the door behind him. He pauses as I whisper, “I don’t want to be alone.”
He pauses, hesitating as he looks at me. Then he steps back inside the room and closes the door behind him.
I scoot over on the bed, relieved he’s not making this weird.
He lies down next to me and pulls out his phone to set a few alarms. Then he turns to face me.
I’m already on my side, watching him. I take in his features through the dark. The sharp line of his jaw. The way his eyes hold mine even in the shadows.
“Thank you,” I whisper.
He stares back at me like he’s taking me in, memorizing every detail. My stomach fills with butterflies—the kind only he seems to give me.
He’s not just looking. He’s seeing me.
And I think he knows more about how I feel than I do.
“Like Zeff said,” he finally murmurs. “You’re safe here, Tiger.”
I blink, trying to push away the swarm of butterflies in my belly. I didn’t know I could feel like I’m flying without moving a single inch.
I inhale and readjust myself onto my back. I can’t take the tension any longer.
I close my eyes for a moment, trying to sleep.
Curiosity wins for a second because I open my eyes and turn my head toward him. And he’s in the same position, his eyes still on me.
“I didn’t know you were watching my house every day,” I mutter.
I snuggle my head deeper into the pillow, closing my eyes again.
I can feel the heat of his stare, but something is calming about it.
I know in my heart that in this bed next to Jax, I’m safe.
The safest I’ve ever been.
Sleep pulls me under.
The alarm screams about ten minutes after I fall asleep.
I jolt awake, heart hammering, body already tense and ready to run.
Where am I? What time is it? Did he find me?
“Hey.” Jax’s voice cuts through the panic. Soft. Steady. “You’re okay.”
He reaches over and silences his phone. The room falls quiet again.
I’m breathing too fast. My hands are shaking.
“You’re at my place,” he says, turning to face me. “Remember?”
I nod, forcing myself to breathe slower.
Right. His place. I left my house. I climbed out the window. I fall back on the pillow, exhaling.
