Finally, after another few moments of stiffness, I melt back against his body.
He rubs my legs lightly and places a soft kiss on my temple. I pull back at the gesture, looking down at him. Our eyes lock and hold for the longest time, his fingers smoothing gently over my thighs. I’m not sure which one of us moves first, but then my lips are crushed against his, his tongue pushing into my mouth.
This isn’t like the kisses we’ve shared before, in the heat of sex, or the wild abandon of our hard, quick fucks in the office.
This is long, drawn out, and so unexpected that I want to pull back. Every pass of his tongue makes me press against him, looping my arms around his neck as he pulls me toward him.
The kiss seems to last for hours, and when I finally pull back, I find myself straddling his hips, pressed against him as he blinks up at me.
Neither of us speaks as I stare into those impossibly blue eyes, wondering what the hell is happening.
After a little while, he sighs. I expect him to push me off and leave, but instead, he rearranges me against his body again, kissing my neck and reaching into his pocket for something.
I frown as he pulls it out with a little shrug of his shoulder.
“Happy birthday,” he says, handing me a long oblong box.
I take it from him, his arm holding me steady.
“You didn’t have to buy me anything,” I whisper, fighting the overwhelming urge to hand the box back, rise, and walk out of the room.
He doesn’t say anything else, waiting for me to open it. I stare at the box, unsure how to interpret what he’s done, and terrified of making this more meaningful than it is.
Surely, this is just his way of keeping me happy enough to keep fucking him?
Then I open the box and wish I hadn't. It’s awful to be pressed up against him in that moment, with nowhere to hide.
Inside the box is a tiny golden necklace. It’s delicate, sparkling in the light, and utterly perfect. The chain is so slim it almost doesn’t seem real.
The pendant is a tiny wind chime. At the base of each tube, there is a sparkling jewel, a little bit like the crystals that hung from the one I gave to his mother. I shudder to think what they are made of.
He cannot know how much this affects me, how synonymous this tiny object is with my memories of my mother, and how wonderful it feels to have her next to me like this.
“I saw it and thought you’d like it.” There’s something off about his voice now, and I’m struggling to draw in a full breath.
Don’t cry, Jax, for fuck’s sake. Do. Not. Cry.
“Thank you,” I say, managing somehow to insert every emotion I possess into two syllables. “It’s beautiful.”
His fingers smooth over my thigh again, and when I look at him, he’s staring at the charm with that same wistful expression I saw in his mother’s house.
“I haven’t seen you wear anything but black and gold,” he says.
I chuckle, glad to break the tension. “Gold-plated, sure. I’m assuming this is gold-plated and these are crystals, right, Gray?” I ask, holding it up to him.
He swallows, his eye twitching. “Uh… sure.”
I narrow my eyes at him as he smiles.
I don’t know what else to say or how to respond, so I just pull it from the box and move to put it on. I fiddle with the clasp for a few seconds before he takes it from me, brushing my ponytail aside and fastening it around my neck.
“How does it look?” I ask, forcing a casual nonchalance into my voice that I don’t feel.
He stares at it for a long time, his fingers coming up to adjust it, placing it gently at the center of my neck.
“It looks like you,” he says softly, and a tidal wave of emotion floods through me, so strong and violent that it’s impossible to suppress.
I push myself off his lap, tears pooling in my eyes.
