Sickeningly inseparable.
The more I saw them together, the more I thought about being that way with Jaxon. It was an easy fantasy to have when he was in the kitchen acting like a domestic god. I had no time for daydreaming that morning; I was running late for class.
“Morning,” Tiffany chirped, coming over to hug me. “It's supposed to be sunny today, absolutely beautiful.”
“Morning Tiff, it’ll be nice to have sunshine after all that rain for the past week,” I said, picking up my backpack from the floor.
“Not staying for breakfast?” Lance asked.
Jaxon looked over at me from the kitchen. I glanced at Tiffany and Lance, trying not to meet his eyes with mine. His words were still drifting around my mind, causing unnecessary distractions. Maybe he really thought I was gorgeous.
The sun cast soft rays into my eyes through the blinds, reminding me that I had to hurry. I had four classes that day and had read and reread over pages of notes for days, preparing myself for tests that would determine a lot of my semester grades. The volume of information was incredible. I read the chapters multiple times, but the information fused into one giant blob. I couldn't possibly remember it all, especially with Jaxon intruding on my thoughts. I needed to stay disciplined.
“No, I think I am going to get to the library and get some reading done before my first class. Catch up with you guys at lunch?”
“Sure,” Tiffany said. I could tell that she was wondering if something was going on by her scrunched face, but she didn't ask. “See you then.”
After morning classes I sat down next to Tiffany with my tray of food. Lance was directly across from her and they were talking about movies. I sat there quietly, half listening and absentmindedly picking at my salad, thinking of Jaxon.
The same way I had all morning.
A tray of food appeared on the table in front of me, drawing my attention. I knew who it was by the strong hands holding it. I was afraid to look up at him. Since he appeared while I was daydreaming about him it felt like I was caught in the act. I was certain he’d be able to tell if he saw my eyes.
He leaned over the table and rested on his elbows.
Mouth just inches away.
My eyes moved up and then shot back down to my salad. His hand clutched my forearm, sending goose bumps up my skin. Closing my eyes I took another bite of my salad and slowly chewed.
Please walk away. Please walk away.
“Are you okay?” Jaxon asked, gently squeezing my forearm.
He didn't walk away.
I didn't respond.
“Elana,” Tiffany said, nudging my shoulder with her elbow.
“What,” I sighed.
Jaxon’s hand didn't move. I wanted to disappear. Oh, how I wished I could. Tiffany nudged my shoulder again.
“What’s wrong with you?”
My eyes moved to Jaxon and back to Tiffany.
“It’s nothing,” I said, pulling my arm away and picking up a napkin as an excuse.
“It doesn’t look like nothing,” Lance said. “Is something going on between you two?”
“Don’t look at me. I’ve been nothing but nice for weeks.”
“No, nothing’s going on. I’m just distracted by exams and stuff.”
Tiffany looked at me out of the corner of her eye. “You sure, Elana?” she said suspiciously. “You didn’t fall into his trap, did you? Like he was right about you liking him the other morning?”
“Hey, I make you guys breakfast and give her a free room, and I’m the bad guy?”
I was about to say something when his phone rang. He looked at it and started to stand up, “Whatever, I don’t have time for this. I’ll see you guys later.” He got up from the table and jogged out the door.
“What was that all about?” Lance said.
“Nothing, there’s nothing going on,” I said, blushing.
“There may be nothing going on yet, but your cheeks say you want something to start,” Tiffany said. “Just remember who you’re dealing with. He isn’t some happy little high school boy like Cole was. He’s a complicated mess of a man.”
“Nothing is happening.”
Nothing.
Unfortunately.
Luckily.
“I gotta run to my next class. See you guys later. Stop worrying, Tiff. I know better.”
On my way to class, I texted Jaxon.
Me: Sorry about that. Worried about test.
Jaxon: K. No prob.
Me: Thx for understanding
Jaxon: Art project 2nte?
Me: K. Home @ 6, I typed with more excitement than a class project warranted.
I would have to look at him.
Get it together.
Chapter 10
Jaxon's knock on the bedroom door was light. But I was so nervous that I jumped. Even though we needed to get the drawings done, I thought about ditching. I was worried he'd make a pass when we were alone, and I didn't know if I could resist.
I thought about suggesting we work in the living room because a boy and girl in a bedroom would normally lead to kissing and Jaxon wasn't the sort of guy who usually stopped at kissing, but I never got the words out. Instead, I forced myself to think of all those girls writhing on the couch with him, the anger he showed after the race, and the empty beer bottles. I could not fall for him. It wasn’t the right time or the right guy.
Plenty of girls saw college as a wild experimental period, and lots of them were happy to experiment with Jaxon. But I dated Cole for three years before he broke up with me, and I had never been with anyone else. I wasn’t experienced enough to get tangled up with him.
He knocked again.
Taking a cleansing breath, I stopped thinking and opened the door. His black hoodie stretched across his muscular frame. His worn, boot cut jeans were fitted but relaxed. He hunched his shoulders, hands in his front pockets and sketchpad under one arm. For a moment, he almost looked humble. The butterflies in my stomach made me feel like it was a first date.
It wasn't though.
It was just an art project.
“Can I come in?”
I stepped back into the room, holding the door wide. He stepped past me and sat down at the edge of bed. Jaxon and I were alone in a bedroom. This was a true test of my resolve.
The butterflies kept fluttering.
Honestly, I didn't want to be his latest score. If I thought about the trail of broken hearts, he was slightly easier to resist. He tossed his sketchpad on the floor and glanced at my laptop. As he scanned my computer, I stared at his square jaw, parted lips, and dark eyelashes.
No boys, no drama.
When he drew the hoodie over his head, his black t-shirt pulled up a bit with it and I got another peek at the tattoos covering his exquisite abs. I still wasn't able to make out the script, too small to read, that went from his right to left side. My eyes focused on it, but when the hoodie joined his sketchbook on the floor, the t-shirt fell back into place. He turned to me and smiled. His white teeth were perfect. He ran both hands through his flattened hair and shook it out, resulting in a bed-head look.
Good god.
I took a deep breath.
“So, do you want to go first or me?” I asked, rubbing my bare foot on the carpet.
“You can, Toots,” he said, stretching across the bed. “I forgot how comfortable my bed was.”
I placed my easel on the floor at the end of the bed and put my sketchpad on it. The assignment was to draw a black-and-white portrait of another person in the class. Jaxon wouldn’t be difficult since I had already studied his features.
Multiple times.
“Want me to take my shirt off?” he asked, trying to look innocent.
“No, no,” I responded.
“Are you sure?”
“Yes. Positive.”
My heart was racing and thinking about him without his shirt made me dizzy. Concentrating, I took the charcoal pencil from my skirt pocket and began to draw. At first, it wa
s hard to move the pencil on the paper, but then I got lost in the work. As the minutes passed, it became easier and easier.
His lush hair came into being one stroke at a time. His eyes looked at me from the page, as dark and deep as they were in reality. I used my finger tip to blend the shading around his cheekbones and imagined myself touching his skin. The strong jaw was the perfect balance for his soft lips and I worked my finger gently to recreate the smooth, kissable texture. As my hand worked the pencil faster, remembering how to render life in lead, the pace of my breathing increased. It was as if my hands were actually touching his skin.
Shaking off a chill, I put the charcoal down and said, “That’s it.”
“You're done already?” he asked.
I nodded. “Pretty much,” I said. “I'll apply some finishing touches later.”
“My turn,” he said, jumping up from the bed.
“Where do you want me?” I asked with a hint of flirtation. It was like one of his cheesy lines, and he smiled.
“On the bed.”
Oh god.
Moving my easel to the side, I perched myself on the edge of the mattress, as he glanced around my room for a good place to sit. He closed the door and sat with his back against it, knees up, pad on his thighs. My heart was thundering, waiting.
He peered at me, head angled to the side. “Take all your clothes off and lie on your side. Prop your head up with your hand.”
I considered it for a second before saying no.
He stuck the pencil over his ear, looking unconvinced. “Are you sure? It looked great when they did it in Titanic.”
“Well, if there’s a risk the apartment will sink, dragging you into icy waters, I’ll consider it. Otherwise, clothes on.” This wasn’t so bad. I wasn’t dumbstruck and mumbling like I was in the library. I might make it through the experience without becoming a total fool.
“You decide then. How do you want to pose? What’ll be comfortable for you?”
I couldn't say the answers that popped into my head, but the wildfire flush that spread across my face gave me away. He caught his lower lip in his teeth, and I was sure it was to contain a laugh.
Most comfortable position?
What about with my head stuck under a pillow?
“I don't know,” I said, combing my hair back out of my face.
“How about the Titanic pose without being nude?”
I laughed. “You’re a little obsessed with that movie.”
“I appreciate a good nude scene. Can you blame me? Lie on your side and prop your head up with your hand.”
I did as he told me. “Like this?”
He nodded, eyeing me as if absorbing details or searching for flaws. Coming onto his knees, he came over to fan his fingers through my hair, letting it fall over my shoulder.
“Perfect,” he murmured, scooting back to his position against the wall.
I stared at him as he sketched, his eyes moving back and forth from my face to the pad. At some point, his gaze began to move over the rest of me. I closed my eyes.
“Falling asleep?” he said softly, his voice closer than I expected.
I opened my eyes to find him squatting next to me at eye level. My heart picked up its pace again.
“No, I’m awake.”
He dropped the pad and pencil on the floor behind him.
“Are you… done?” I asked.
He shook his head slightly. “No. I just need you to change your position for me.” He swept his eyes over my body, “Move your hand by your side for me.”
I was afraid he'd be able to see my heart hammering through my thin shirt. He grabbed the pad and pencil from the floor and leaned back against the door. I felt vulnerable. It was as if he was running his hands across my skin instead of a pencil across paper. He paused again.
“I'm going to arrange you again, if that's okay?”
I swallowed. “Yeah, I guess. Having a difficult time capturing the right pose?”
“Sort of, they’re all so damn perfect. It’s hard to choose.”
My throat tightened.
Every muscle in my body was tense with anticipation.
His fingers encircled the wrist nearest him and he brought my arm over my head, bent as though it had been thrown back. Taking the opposite hand, he splayed my fingers over my abdomen. He sat back, stared at me a moment, and then moved it, too, over my head, crossing my wrists, as though I was bound. I tried to breathe normally, but it was impossible.
“I'm going to move your leg,” he said, his eyes on mine, waiting for my nod.
His hands on my knee, he angled it out, leaving it flush against the mattress. He picked up the pad and his pencil moved again. I felt a flood of warmth in my thighs.
Sweet heavens.
“Tilt your face toward me a bit—chin down—that's good. And shut your eyes.”
I tried to remain relaxed; knowing that as long as I heard the scratch of his pencil across the page, he wasn't going to touch me. I stayed very still, eyes closed, listening to the rasp of lead on paper, broken by the soft brush of his finger, smearing a line or a shadow.
My phone buzzed next to me and my eyes flashed open. Without thinking, I rose to my elbows and looked at the message. It was from Tiffany.
Hungry. Pizza?
Jaxon watched me closely. “Is it important?”
“Not really. One second.”
I replied, Studying.
I returned to my position without closing my eyes, and he didn't ask me to.
He continued sketching, concentrating on my hands, and then my face. He stared into my eyes, back and forth between that intense examination and his drawing. When he stared at my mouth—drawing, staring, drawing, staring—I wanted to reach down, grab his t-shirt, and pull him up to me. My hands clenched involuntarily.
He put the pencil and pad down and stood over me. Looking down at me, he said, “Elana?”
“Yes?”
“You look so fucking beautiful right now.” His jaw was rigid.
“I do?” I asked, wide-eyed. I wasn’t sure if I should move or not.
“Yeah, you are. And it’s not only looks. There’s something about you.”
I didn't know where he was going with this. He got on the bed next to me, propping himself on his elbows. He ran a finger over my jaw, down my throat, between my breasts, and down my thigh.
I stared into his dark eyes, my heart racing, my breath shallow and fast. Leaning over, he brought his lips to mine. I felt his tongue slowly push into my waiting mouth. Feeling him on top of me, tasting him, was like floating on calm ocean water. Gravity didn’t exist. Nothing existed outside of that kiss.
My eyes didn't close.
Neither did his.
I inhaled through my nose and his intoxicating scent filled me. I was dizzy from it. The force of my own desire frightened me. It was like nothing I’d ever experienced.
Electrical.
Exhilarating.
Loud knocking at the front door shattered the moment.
“Pizza delivery,” yelled Tiffany and Lance.
Chapter 11
A few days had passed since Lance and Tiffany's passion-killing pizza delivery. I was confused about my feelings and Jaxon’s motivation. I tried to suppress my lust and I fought it longer than I thought possible. Tiffany and Lance saved me from myself and bought me some time. I might not have stopped on my own. She still had no idea what they interrupted, and I wasn’t sure how or what to tell her.
I decided the easiest way was to meet with her and just spill it. I grabbed my phone and located Tiffany’s number. I texted her.
Me: Meet me at the coffee shop!
Tiffany: Ok, c u in 30
Me: Great
I walked to the coffee shop and when I made it inside Tiffany was already sitting at the booth. She smiled at me as I walked over and slipped into the seat across from her. I sat silent, not even saying hi, trying to think how to tell her.
“Well, what d’you want to te
ll me?” she asked. “I get this frantic text and now you’re practically mute.”
“I want to tell you, but I don’t think you’ll be happy about it,” I said, looking down.
“Oh my god! You had sex with him!” she shouted.
“What?! No. Absolutely not.” I shook my head no.
She twirled the silver ring on her right index finger. She’d done some version of that gesture whenever she was deep in thought since third grade.
“What then?”
“It was just a kiss.”
“Only a kiss?”
“Yes, I swear.”
“Ok, so what’s got you all wrapped in knots then? There’s still time to take a step back.”
“It was just a kiss, but I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t interrupted us with that pizza.”
“That’s when you kissed him?” She started to laugh, throwing her head back. “And there I was worried you were studying too much.”
“We were. We were working on our art project, but then —”
“He slipped and his tongue fell in your mouth?”
“No, it was slow and romantic. It felt like my first kiss.”
“Wait, that wasn’t your first kiss?”
“I mean my first kiss ever. It was that amazing. The entire world came to a halt. The only things that existed at that moment were his lips and mine.”
“Oh geez, you’ve got it bad.”
“But I can’t. I mean, he’s all wrong for me. He’s wrong for all women. You know that.”
“Yeah, I’m not normally a fan, but sometimes you have to let go and enjoy the moment. Lance wasn’t exactly winning any awards for being the nice boy next-door when I met him.”
“Was he as bad as Jaxon?”
“Nobody comes close to Jax, at least nobody that exists outside of soap operas and reality shows.”
I let my head fall forward and brought my hand up to support my forehead. “I know. This is not part of my plan.”
“You know I love you, but you need to understand that you can’t plan your way out of hurt. Things are going to happen. They’ll never be as bad as what happened in the past, but bad things will happen. Lance could break my heart tomorrow. I’d still rather enjoy today than be safe and numb.”
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