by Kelly Myers
I feel Easton’s fingers wrap around the St. Michael medallion.
I glance down. “Maddy gave it to me the day I graduated from the Academy.”
“Patron saint of police officers, right?”
“He’s a Protector, Warrior and the Angel of Death.”
Just like me, I think. I feel a little shiver run through Easton’s frame.
“After Madison’s death, I swore to find out who was responsible. I used every possible connection and resource to help me get vengeance. I pulled away from everyone, especially Sharpe, and he was my best friend over at the station. We graduated from the Academy together. But, I didn’t want to drag him down with me. Revenge consumed me and it was the only thing that got me out of bed in the morning.”
“What happened?” Easton asks, nuzzling deeper in my embrace.
“A tip came through and I was able to track the guys down that I was looking for. We wound up in a warehouse downtown. I went completely rogue and, when I went into that warehouse with no backup, a part of me didn’t think I’d be coming out again. I didn’t care, though. I failed Maddy and whatever it took to bring those guys down, I was prepared to do. Even if it meant dying.”
“Oh, Jax,” she murmurs.
“There was a shootout and I fucked up. Thought I got them all, but I had missed one and he fired seconds before I did. I got shot three times. Would’ve died if it weren’t for Griff. I didn’t realize he was worried and he’d been keeping close tabs on me. He got there just in time. Called for help and kept me from bleeding to death. I owe Griff my life.”
I feel her reach for my hand and squeeze it.
“That’s why it’s so important to me that Platinum Security is successful. Guys like me, Griff and Ryker don’t have many options. We have a specific skill set and the people who trained us abandoned us. It’s up to me to make sure we’re taken care of now.”
“You’re a good man, Jax,” she says and I can’t help but snort back a dark laugh.
“You have no idea what I’m capable of, Easton. I’ve been trained to kill. And, I had no problem using what I learned to take out my enemies. I don’t regret it.”
“You avenged your sister and you eliminated some terrible men. I understand why you did it. But, I’m betting LAPD didn’t.”
“No, they sure didn’t. But, I guess I’m lucky I’m not rotting in a jail cell right now. Cops watch out for each other and, technically, it was self-defense. Or, at least, that’s what we said. I was forced to resign for misconduct. After ten years on the force, it was humiliating to have your career end in disgrace. The “bad cop” stigma lasts a lifetime.”
“You and Logan seem to get on well still.”
“Because of you.”
“What do you mean?”
“We hadn’t talked in almost a year. I ran into him at a bar by the office and we talked a little. He must’ve felt bad because he referred you to me.”
“I’m so glad he did,” she says and takes my face in her hands. When she kisses me, I feel like her light drives out some more of the darkness in my soul.
25
Easton
I pull back and tenderly brush a dark lock of hair back from Jax’s face. I’ve never seen this strong, capable man appear so vulnerable and my heart aches for him. The fact that he confided his painful past means the world to me.
If my feelings were unclear before, they’re crystal clear now. I’m falling so hard and so fast. Love is a strange, wonderful, crazy thing and, as I look into Jax’s dark brown eyes, I’m home. There’s nothing I want more than Jax Wilder in my life.
Problem is, I don’t know what’s going on in that head of his. I know he cares about me. Without a doubt. But, that doesn’t mean he wants a relationship or that he loves me. After all he’s been through, a man like Jax might think he’s not even capable of loving a woman anymore.
Well, I’m going to have to prove him wrong.
He needs to stop punishing himself for what happened. Blaming himself for Maddy’s death is self-destructive and the reason he can’t move on with his life. But, I’m going to do everything in my power to help him forgive himself.
Having these giddy feelings about a man is strange. I definitely never felt this way about Daniel or Lincoln. I’ve always been too busy, too self-involved. But, now that things have slowed down and it's just me and Jax, I have time to think. And, I can see and understand things more clearly.
And, if I know one thing, it’s that I never want to go back to the chaotic and lonely way I used to live. I’m yearning for a more simple life again and my thoughts are turning traditional which is crazy for me. Marriage and babies are two things that I never gave any thought to because they just weren’t in my plan.
But, now, looking at Jax, a part of me begins to think I’d like a normal life with him. Maybe have a family together. He would be an amazing husband and father. He possesses the right qualities-- loyal, protective and caring.
Jax is a wild card, though, and I don’t think he’ll ever be fully tamed. And, I like that, can accept that about him, because I kind of feel the same way about myself.
I might fall in love with him, but there’s a side to me that will always remain free and unbroken. We complement each other very well, I realize.
Jax leans down, kisses me hard then pulls back with a sigh. “I’m starving,” he says.
I slide out of his lap and we stand up. While he yanks his jeans back on, I pick up his discarded t-shirt and slip it over my head.
“You don’t mind, do you?” I ask. The cabin is hot from the fire and I want his smell on me.
He throws me a crooked smile, reaches for my hand and pulls me against him. “I love it,” he says and kisses my temple. When he says the word “love,” my heart skips a beat.
We wander into the kitchen and I search for plates and silverware while Jax opens the fridge and retrieves some of the food we brought with us. Sandwiches, pasta salad and a couple bottled waters.
I didn’t realize how hungry I was until we started unwrapping everything. I take a bite of my veggie sub and suddenly remember it’s July 17. My birthday. I am officially 30-years old and it feels surprisingly good.
Even though I dreaded this day, turning this age, I don’t mind at all anymore. In fact, I don’t think I have ever felt better. I have a feeling it’s all because of the handsome man next to me chowing down on an Italian sub.
I watch him chew, eyes on his mouth, and a shiver runs through me when I think about where on my body that mouth has been. Of the pleasure it’s given me. I swallow down a bite, grab my water and take a long, much-needed drink. It’s too hot and I need to cool off because my thoughts are heating up.
Then, he meets my steamy gaze, drops his sandwich and takes a long drink, throat working the water down, caramel eyes glued to mine. “What?” he asks, voice husky.
“I just remembered that it’s July 17.”
“And?”
“And, it’s my birthday,” I announce with a little smile.
He leans an elbow on the counter, throws me a devastating smile. “Happy Birthday.”
I feel shy all of a sudden, feeling silly that I even mentioned it. “Thanks.”
“How old are you?”
I scrunch up my nose. “Thirty.”
Jax slides over, wraps his arms around me and places a kiss against the side of my neck. “You’re just a baby,” he says.
His hands slide over my stomach and he pulls me against him, tongue skimming up the curve of my neck. I swallow hard, loving the feel of his bare chest pressing against my back. Not to mention the thickening ridge in his jeans.
Then, without warning, he pulls away, turns me around and gives me a sultry half-smile. “Let’s make a cake.”
“What?” I say with a laugh.
“It’s your special day and you can’t have a birthday without cake.”
“It’s not a big deal.”
“You have to make a wish and how are you going to do tha
t if you don’t have candles on a cake?”
His logic is adorable and, before I realize what’s happening, we’re dressed, in the Expedition and heading down to the local corner store even though it’s almost ten o’clock at night. I choose a box of chocolate cake mix, milk chocolate chips to add to the batter and a can of caramel frosting. He finds a little box of candles, eggs and oil for the cake and grabs a few other supplies. Laden with grocery bags, we’re back at the cabin in record time.
The roaring fire from earlier is nothing more than a pile of hot ashes. In the kitchen, I preheat the oven while Jax finds bowls, measuring cups and a pile of random utensils he thinks we may need.
“Have you ever baked a cake before?” I ask, laughing as he pulls out another spatula.
“No,” he admits. “But, you can never have too many spoons, right?”
“That’s a spatula not a spoon!” The look on his face is endearing and he makes me laugh so hard my side hurts.
As we measure out ingredients and tease each other, my heart is light. All of the darkness from earlier dissipates and Jax looks happy. Almost carefree, which is something that I’ve never seen before.
I add the chocolate chips and he swipes a finger through the batter. “Mmm,” he says, licking it off.
“Good?”
When he dips his finger in again, I swat at him. “If you eat it all there won’t be any cake.”
“One more time,” he says. But, this time, after he scoops some up, he lifts his index finger up to my mouth. “Try it.”
Gaze locked on his, I open my mouth and wrap my lips around his finger, sucking the batter off. I can see his chest hitch, breathing increase, and I hold his hand steady. Even though the batter is gone, I continue sucking his finger, moving from one digit to the next. I lick up and around his middle finger then turn his hand over and circle my tongue around his palm where I leave a wet, open-mouthed kiss.
On the edge of his wrist, I catch a quick glimpse of a cursive “M” inked there.
Jax reaches down, grasps my t-shirt in his big hands and yanks it over my head. A moment later, he unsnaps my bra with one hand and, at the same time, slides my leggings down with the other.
Multi-talented, I think, then feel him grasp my hips and pick me up. With an arm, he shoves the bowls, spatulas and everything in the way aside, and lays me out on the counter. Spread before him in just my lace panties, I feel a thrum of desire pound through me and liquid heat pours through my lower body.
He moves between my thighs, reaches over to dip a finger back into the batter and then smears it across my collarbone. I suck in a breath, watching him leave a chocolate trail downward, circling my nipples and then sliding down the valley between my breasts. He circles the sweet gooeyness low on my stomach and then swirls it around my navel.
Then, he lowers his head and, starting at my collarbone, he re-traces the chocolate trail. Only this time with his tongue.
I let out a shaky breath and a tremor runs through my body. I know where he’s headed and as he licks the batter trail, getting lower, I grasp his dark hair in my hands and feel myself melt.
Jax’s fingers slip beneath the elastic of my panties and with utmost care and teasing slowness, he drags them downward. Over my thighs, around the bend of my knees and then down past my calves and ankles where they fall off and hit the floor.
My eyes slide shut when his hands push my legs further apart. His mouth leaves my navel, trails over my hip and then moves inward. I fall all the way back against the counter with a soft moan when his hands grip my upper thighs, holding me open and immobile, and then his mouth dips down to take my hot, wet center in a dark kiss like no other I’ve experienced before.
“Jax,” I gasp.
But, he is on a mission and all I can do is writhe beneath his lips and tongue. “Come on, baby,” he says between those hot, blackout kisses. “Come for me.”
When I moan, his hands slide around and cup my rear, lifting me up for better access.
“Oh, my God,” I cry, twisting my hips, tugging his hair.
The soft, swirling feel leaves me completely undone and I grind my hips, powerless to the intense pleasure his mouth gives me. “Please,” I beg.
With one final lick up my crease, he straightens back up and then slowly starts kissing his way up my trembling body. “Tell me what you want,” he says, his large hands rounding over my breasts.
“You,” I gasp. “Inside me. Please.”
He works his zipper down and springs free from the denim. After he sheathes himself, that hard length begins to slide inside me and I want to cry.
Jax is pure, potent masculinity and I wrap my legs around him and lift my hips to meet his powerful thrusts. He has so much control and can move from achingly slow to hard and fast and then back to slow in the blink of an eye. I don’t know how he does it, but the sensation is so delicious and leaves me soaking wet and begging for me.
“You feel so good,” he moans, pumping harder, tilting my hips up to him.
Such a bad boy. “My bad boy…” I didn’t mean to say the words aloud and feel a flush burn my cheeks.
His dark, hooded gaze drops and meets mine. “Swear,” he says.
What? “I don’t know-”
“Do it.”
I open my mouth and nothing comes out except a soft moan of pleasure. When I don’t do what he says, he slows down, begins to pull back.
“No! Don’t stop,” I whimper.
“Then, tell me not to fucking stop.”
“Don’t fucking stop!” I cry, wrapping my legs tighter around his waist, not letting him pull away any further.
A wicked smile curves his mouth and he thrusts into me, picking up the pace again.
In moments, I shatter from the explosive climax and fall back on the counter, out of breath and panting hard. I have a hard time cursing and avoid doing it, but knowing that Jax likes it, I realize I’m going to have to talk naughty for him every now and then.
And, it kind of turns me on.
Jax pounds into me and then explodes with a groan. A moment later, he slides out and moves away to take care of the used condom. I can barely move. My body feels so satiated and I feel like I’m somewhere up in the clouds. Jax returns, pulls me up into a sitting position on the edge of the counter, steps between my legs and kisses me thoroughly.
After I float back down to Earth, we put what’s left of the cake in the oven, wrap blankets around ourselves and sit at the table and just talk about anything and everything. From favorite movies to most-hated foods.
“Pickles?” he says and makes a face.
“I can put them on anything, hot or cold.”
He grimaces and I swat his forearm. “Maybe that’s what your tattoo should be. A pickle,” he teases.
“I seriously want to go. Will you take me?”
He nods. “What do you want to get?”
“I’m still deciding,” I say and run a fingertip over his ink. I turn his wrist and look at the cursive “M” that marks the side of it, just above his ulna.
“For your sister?” I ask.
He nods. “I wanted to honor her in some way so I got her first initial and the St. Michael on my shoulder.”
“Does your brother have any tattoos?”
“Bastian? Yeah,” he says with a low chuckle. “More than me.”
“When’s the last time you saw him?” I ask.
“Maddy’s funeral.”
“A year ago?”
“Bastian has the tendency to disappear, go off the radar for a while. But, he always turns back up at some point. Usually when he wants something.”
“You said you’re not as close as you used to be, huh?”
Jax merely shrugs. “He’s my brother so if he needs my help, I’ll be there for him. Just like I am for Griff and Ryker. It’s what we do.”
His loyalty runs deep and he takes care of the people in his world that he cares about.
Suddenly, my heart expands with love for this man a
nd, before he is able to read my expression, the oven dings. Thank God, I think, and jump up to grab an oven mitt. The last thing I want to do is scare him off.
I pull the cake out and we let it cool for a few minutes. Then, I use a knife to spread the caramel frosting. Jax sprinkles some chocolate chips on top then sticks some candles in it. He lights them and pushes the cake closer to me.
“Happy Birthday, Princess,” he says and gives me a heartbreaking smile. “Make a wish.”
There’s only one thing I want and my eyes meet his over the candle glow. I want you to fall in love with me like I’m falling in love with you, I think.
Then, I blow the candles out.
26
Jax
After sharing a piece of birthday cake, Easton and I go upstairs. It’s late and we’ve had a long day. I brush my teeth, splash some water on my face and I’m good to go. Easton, on the other hand, has quite the routine.
I lean back against the wall, watch her set numerous travel-size bottles out along the counter. After washing her face with some sweet-smelling liquid soap, she applies various creams, patting them into her skin with her delicate fingertips.
She meets my curious gaze in the mirror and smiles.
“You do this every night?” I ask in amazement.
“This is only half of my normal evening ritual,” she says.
I move up behind her, slide my arms around her waist. “You, my Princess, are what they call high-maintenance.”
“You’re damned right,” she says and I give a shout of laughter.
When we finally cuddle down together beneath the covers, I pull her into the curve of my body and I think we both fall asleep the minute our heads hit the pillow.
It’s the best night of sleep I probably have had in my life.
It’s nice to be able to sleep in and not worry about work or threatening messages or someone trying to hurt Easton. Here, in our little Big Bear bubble, the world is a safe and beautiful place.