by BJ Harvey
That makes me choke again, but this time it’s not the I’m-gonna-die kind; it’s more the laugh-my-ass-off kind.
“You guys are so mean,” I squeak as I straighten. Looking around the group, I’m met with four wide grins.
“You owe me twenty bucks, Mom,” Abi says.
“Dammit,” she mutters, all the while I’m switching my attention between Jax’s Mom and sister.
“You bet on me liking your son?” I ask incredulously. Granted, it would be shocking if it was Sheila and my sister, but not so much the two female members of the Cook family.
“I bet you would hold out for a while longer,” April says with a shrug. I look toward Betty who just snickers and shakes her head.
“Let’s get back to the dresses, shall we?” I suggest, redirecting the conversation.
April looks between Abi and me, then smooths her hands over the sides of her own dress, lifting her head as a radiant smile curves her lips. “What was it again? I say yes to the dress!” she says, lifting her arms in the air dramatically and ushering us all in for a rather complicated group hug.
“Can we go eat now?” Abi asks when we finally pull apart. “Because I have two mini Cook-Carsens inside me who are ravenous. And we all know what happens when a Cook gets hungry.”
“Oh yes we do,” April and Marcy say in unison.
“Right. Then before I go all crazy, pregnant lady, let’s go do that.”
I grin at Abi and shake my head. “The mama-to-be has spoken. Undress, then food.”
“Well, preferably get dressed again before the food, but each to their own. Rick and I often go nak—”
“Mom!” Abi groans.
“Marcy!” Betty giggles.
April and I just look at each other and burst out laughing again.
With females like this in my life, with family like this in my life, it brings home how much I’ve missed out on growing up as a Nelson—Gilly being the exception.
The good news is, with the way I feel about Jax, the future is looking a hell of a lot brighter.
Jax
I get up early and make Ronnie breakfast before bringing it up to the bedroom and sitting beside her, gently waking her with my arm on her shoulder.
“Hmm,” she says, slowly opening her eyes and looking up at me. “Why are you not in here with me?”
“Because waking up with you wearing a tank and underwear that I can’t strip you out of is torture for a man like me.”
Her lips quirk up. “And what kind of man are you?”
“One who can’t think straight when you press your hips back into mine all night.”
“Oh.”
“Mmm hmm,” I say, leaning down and brushing my lips against hers. She hooks her hand around my neck and deepens the kiss.
I’ve got my eyes on the prize though so I pull back when her other hand starts heading south.
“Uh-uh-uh,” I say, standing out of arm’s reach. “None of that, otherwise you know exactly what’ll happen.”
“I’ll win, then hopefully you’ll win?” she says, waggling her brows.
I chuckle, meeting her hopeful gaze. “Not yet. Soon,” I murmur promisingly. “I don’t quite think I’m ready to win. Not until I know I’ve well and truly earned it.”
She licks her lips and makes everything harder when she slowly looks me up and down. “Oh, I’ll make you earn it.”
“I don’t doubt that for a second. Now, drink your coffee and eat your toast. We’ve got plans.”
She slowly sits and leans her back up against the headboard. Grabbing the mug, she cradles it in her hands and takes a slow sip, closing her eyes and moaning, deep and low and torturous. A growl rumbles in my chest and her eyes snap open.
“Plans?” she says, sounding very happy for herself.
“We’re going to the hardware store, then we’re going to the house.”
She frowns, looking adorably confused. “Okay…”
“You’ll need your camera, old clothes, and an open mind,” I say with a slow-growing grin.
She arches a brow. “I’m now suitably intrigued.”
“Good.” I lean a hand into the headboard and place open-mouthed pecks on her cheek, her jaw, and then her neck. “Now drink up, get up, suit up, and we can begin our day,” I whisper.
“I can think of more fun ways to begin the day.”
Cupping her jaw, I tilt her face to meet mine. I press my lips to hers for a soft, achingly slow kiss, caressing her tongue with teasing strokes until every atom in my body is begging me to jump back on to the mattress and join her.
Definitely need to get out of the room with the bed.
I stand up rather suddenly, earning a shocked gasp and wide eyes from Ronnie until her gaze looks straight ahead—crotch level—and her expression turns knowing and amused.
“If you want me to get up then you need to get out.” She lifts off the blankets to reveal her long, bare legs and her pair of skimpy black underwear that I’d almost forgotten about. Definitely need to leave.
Without another word, I spin on my heels and walk out of the room and make myself at home in her living room. I grip the armrest of the recliner when I hear her shower turn on. I turn the volume up when I hear her start humming “I Wanna Sex You Up,” and I near-on leave the condo when I swear I hear her moan.
It’s not surprising that by the time she walks out of her bedroom, she’s looking radiant and very happy for herself, and I’m grumpy, frustrated, and ready to knock a wall out with my erection.
Ninety minutes later, my truck is parked in the driveway of the no-longer-pink Dream House, and I’m helping Ronnie as she exits the vehicle.
“So, what are we painting then?” she asks, her camera bag slung over one shoulder, her golden hair slightly curled and running wild. Watching her stand there, the sunlight cascading over her face, I wish I had my camera in hand. Since I stopped ignoring the beautiful woman standing beside me, I haven’t needed to take covert photos in order to enjoy the sight of her. I can do it whenever I like now, but sometimes, I have to figuratively slap myself out of a daze just from looking at her. A definite first for me.
I lead her ’round to the back of the truck and drop down the tailgate. Once we have the supplies from the hardware store, I quickly lock everything up. I seek out Ronnie’s hand, then walk down the side of the house and around the back towards the former second garage, soon-to-be renovated studio.
I lead her inside the paint-ready room, letting go of her hand to close the door behind us.
“Wow, this is awesome. It would make an amazing darkroom and office,” she says, bending down to place her bags on the ground as I do the same with my own supplies. She turns around to face me. “Maybe this was Barbie’s secret hideaway from all the mini Kens?”
I snort and shake my head. “What about the mini divas? The boys would be heathens, but the girls would be killer on a man’s sanity and his wallet.”
Her pink lips quirk. “Heathens and divas, huh? Are you saying you wanna have babies with me, Jaxon Cook?”
My mouth gapes, my heart stops dead, and my entire body is frozen in place. Her smile widens as her amused gaze takes in my stunned reaction, which is obviously written all over me.
“I knew I’d get you with that one,” she says with a giggle.
I narrow my eyes at her. “One day, I’ll know when you’re fucking with me.”
Her smile turns sexy as she traces the tip of her tongue along her bottom lip. “Soon, Jax… very soon.”
“We better change the subject otherwise we’ll both be in trouble. Are we doing some painting?” she asks, looking at the bags at my feet.
I close the distance between us and rest my hands on her hips as she puts her palms flat on my chest. I hook a loose curl behind her ear, rubbing my fingertip down her cheek and over her jaw. “We aren’t painting, but we do need paint.”
“Okay. That makes no sense because I’d be all up for a naked paint party, but there are certain parts of my
body where paint does not need to go. Paint is like sand; there’s such a thing as too much,” she says with a grin.
“I’ve got water-based paint and this room can be cleaned up easy enough afterward…”
She beams. “Is this a big effort to win the chase? ’Cause you might be on to something.”
I drop my head back and bark out a laugh. “I probably am but I swear this time, my intentions are far too honorable for my own good. You’ve been working on the human form for your portfolio, and I figure, I’m a man, and my form isn’t too bad…”
“Not too bad is a big understatement,” she says. “Massive,” she leans in and whispers.
I smirk because I doubt there’s a man on the planet who doesn’t like to hear the word massive in relation to his male form.
“You’re going to be my model?” She runs her hands over my shoulders and presses her breasts against me.
“Yeah,” I reply, sounding far too affected. At this rate, this arty portrait shoot might be more pornographic than I intended. Fighting my instinct to pull her closer, I brush my mouth against hers before moving out of reach.
Her lips part and her eyes widen before recognition dawns, and amusement prevails.
“It’s gonna be hard enough to keep this G-rated when I’ve got your hands on me without giving my cock ideas before we’ve even started.”
She pouts. “But I like giving it ideas,” she says, her voice saccharine-sweet.
I arch my brow. “Saying things like that does not help, beautiful.”
Her eyes go soft like they do whenever I call her beautiful, and fuck, if I don’t like that a whole damn lot too.
She holds her hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, I’ll behave.”
The gleam in her eyes says otherwise. She takes a few steps back and peruses me, tapping an index finger against her lips as she looks me up and down. “Hmm, I can definitely work with this. No faces though.”
I nod. “That goes without saying. Joey and I may be close, but he doesn’t need to see that much of me.”
“No one gets to see that but me,” she says, sounding possessive. Fuck, I like that.
“Okay, so treat this as your first official studio shoot. I’m your model to do with what you will.”
“And the paint?”
I shrug. “You don’t have to use it, but there’s plastic sheeting to cover the ground, and this room is due to be painted by me anyway.”
“So, a naked paint party,” she says, waggling her brows with a satisfied grin, making me chuckle.
“Yep. It just won’t have the kind of happy ending I’d really appreciate.”
She walks over and crushes her lips to mine, wrapping her arms around my neck and giving me everything. My hands go to her daisy duke-covered ass, holding her in place and giving her as good as I’m getting.
Needing distance—again—I slowly ease back until I’m staring into her eyes. “No direction, no suggestions. This is all you, beautiful. Do with me what you will.”
She smacks my lips with a kiss one more time before untangling her arms and moving back. “This may be one of the coolest things anyone has ever done for me,” she says, her voice breaking.
“And just knowing that makes me over the fucking moon that I’m the one giving it to you.”
Her eyes mist over. “Thank you, Jax.”
“Anytime, Ronnie.”
“Now,” she says, clapping her hands. “Chop, chop. Get your clothes off while I decide where the best light might be.”
I point to the back wall of the room. “You’ll find any gear you may need over there. What’s mine is yours: lights, backdrops, tripods, my cameras, lenses, you name it. I know you can do amazing work; I’m just giving you added tools to take it to the next level, and since I’m not grading you, I don’t see it as a conflict of interest. This is all you.”
Her gaze softens, and she opens her mouth as if to say something but seems to stop herself. “This is amazing.” She jumps up and lets out an excited squeal. “My mind is racing with all the things.”
I laugh at her infectious enthusiasm. “Lucky for us, we’ve got all day.”
She nods, her expression morphing from fun to all business. “Right. Let’s get to work then.”
Three hours, two battery packs, and five different light and lens combinations later, and my body is sore from pulling and holding poses for longer than I thought I was capable of. Ronnie bends and carefully places her camera on top of her bag.
“I think we’re done,” she says, walking over toward me. “How are you doing down there?” she asks.
Lying on my side, I’m fully stretched out with one leg bent forward onto the plastic-covered floor, and I have splashes of blue, green, and yellow paint everywhere.
I roll to my back and look up at a radiant Ronnie. Her eyes are tired but bright, her smile huge. She holds out her hand and I lift my arm to lace my fingers with hers.
“Do you like those clothes?” I ask, just as I tighten my grip and tug her down on top of me. She shrieks, my body cushioning her fall. Her messy bun of hair on top of her head protects her blonde locks from the paint, but her hands, chest, and legs don’t fare as well.
“Now we’re both dirty,” she says on a giggle. I lift a blue and green hand to her cheek, pressing my palm to her skin and pulling her down for a long deep kiss. Just as she’s melting into me, I bend my leg and roll us over, my naked paint-covered front draped all over her now. But still I don’t break the kiss. Her arms wrap around my back, her hands roaming my skin as my hips grind against hers.
Then her body goes stock still and her nails bite into my shoulders. I freeze, lifting my head to check on her, but find her eyes glued toward the door… the unlocked door. Dammit!
“Well, then, I guess you don’t need help painting today,” my father announces.
I turn my head to meet the far-too-amused eyes of my dad.
“Rick, why have you sto—ohhhh,” my mom says, coming up behind him. I look over his shoulder and find my mom covering her mouth and giggling but—I note—not looking like she’s moving anytime soon.
“Ah… hi guys,” Ronnie says, snort-laughing the words.
“Hi, Ronnie. We’ve gotta stop meeting like this,” Mom says.
“Um, love you lots, guys, and all, but do you think we could continue this conversation when I’m dressed?” I ask.
“Nice tushie, Jaxon,” Mom says. “I haven’t seen it since you were a kid, but once a good butt, always a good butt, right?”
“Mom…” I groan.
“You get that from your father. He has a nice, tight ass. Especially when I—”
“Mom!” I shout.
“Woman!” Dad growls, and through all of this, what does the woman beneath me do?
She laughs. And laughs. And she’s still giggling about it twenty minutes later when I rejoin them all downstairs in the main house after cleaning myself up.
Watching them, one thing rings true.
She fits, and as long as she wants to fit and whatever life may throw at us, I’m not letting her go. Mom always told us kids, “When you know, you know.”
Well, I knew the moment I first met Ronnie.
All that’s left is to let her know.
That’s the fun part.
Ronnie
The last few weeks have been so busy, I’ve barely had time to think about anything other than school, the wedding, and—of course—the man currently sitting next to me. He’s not a man easy to forget.
All that’s left to do for my intro to photography class is to finish putting my portfolio together and hand it in next Wednesday. Then, in two weeks’ time, we all fly to Vegas for April and Jamie’s joint bachelor and bachelorette party.
Today, Jax has decided to up his game—his words, not mine. I think he’s done more than enough—and he’s taking me out on a surprise Sunday outing. What I did like this morning was the look on his face when I gave him a frame with a picture of the two of us in it from our
paint-covered photo shoot. When he unwrapped the gift, his eyes went wide then soft. Then he placed the frame on my nightstand, rolled over on top of me and pressed his palm to my cheek, looking at me like I was his entire world. That is a moment I’ll remember forever. It’s also the moment I made my decision that Jax never had to chase me because he’d always had me. I just need to find the right moment to tell him.
Between dress fittings, maid-of-honor duties, organizing the bachelorette weekend, and the guys working long hours renovating the Barbie Dream House to get it finished either before or just after the wedding, it’s been hard to spend quality time together without being interrupted or having to multi-task.
That’s why I’ve been looking forward to this surprise date for the past week, since Jax told me that my Sunday was his. Like I would ever complain about him wanting to spend the day with me. When it comes to us, I don’t care what we do, as long as we’re doing it together.
We’re driving downtown in Jax’s truck. He hasn’t given me any clues about what we’re doing or where we’re going. All I knew was to dress comfortably and be prepared to be out all day.
I decide it’s time to pull out the big guns. Leaning over from the passenger seat, I slide my hand over his jean-clad thigh and slowly glide it up towards the Promised Land. I’ve taken to calling it that because Jax wasn’t joking when he said sex was off the table. There’s been a hell of a lot of kissing and groping, but our sleepovers have remained strictly PG…maybe M… but definitely not X-rated.
I love that he’s still determined to win the chase before we take things all the way again.
What woman wouldn’t like that kind of restraint and only slightly wavering resolve? He wants to earn the right to claim his woman once and for all.
“Beautiful, I love your hands on me, but if you don’t want me to wreck the truck, you might wanna stop,” Jax says roughly.
I love the effect I have on him. It can be just words in a text or whispered in his ear and his voice will turn low and husky, which does it for me more than he probably knows.
Inching closer, my fingers brush over the inseam of his jeans. I wish I could press my lips to his neck and let my hands roam all over his body without risking an accident. It would all be a lot more fun without clothes, but I’ll make do while he has to concentrate and isn’t in a position to distract me with moves of his own.