Waterfall Effect

by K. K. Allen

  I cringe at his surprise. Obviously he’s not interested in Val now, but they have a past just like we do. Is it awful that I want to know what happened between them? Why she decided to show up tonight? What if there are more women like her?

  Jaxon’s expression morphs from surprise to irritation in less than a second. “Why does it matter?”

  I swallow and shrug, turning my eyes away. “I don’t know. Never mind. It was stupid.”

  He stands, towering over me. Shit. I struck a nerve. “Aurora. Jesus Christ. Are you jealous of Val? After I kicked her out of here? Did I not make it clear enough to her? To you?”

  “I’m sorry. I just hate that there have been others.” My voice shakes, and my body quivers.

  Jaxon’s hands lift and drop, slapping his thighs in defeat. “Casually, yes. I told you that last night.”

  He’s right. And I deserve everything I’m feeling. The tightness in my chest, the rot in my gut, and the clamminess of my palms. “Did you love her?” Just saying the words wracks my body with chills. I know he’ll be upset by the question. We are where we are because of decisions I made for the both of us. But maybe I deserve the pain that comes with his. Maybe I want him to know I care.

  “Did I what?” Jaxon’s eyes flash.

  My mouth opens to repeat the question, and then snaps shut again when I see his face.

  “It was sex, Aurora. That’s all,” he roars. “What the fuck?” His face twists, and I realize my question hurt him. “Are you trying to make something more out of this? Because that would be pretty shitty considering you left me no other choice but to move on when you walked away from me in that courthouse.” Letting out an incredulous laugh, he shakes his head in frustration. “Newsflash, Aurora. I loved you with everything I had. This”—he grips his chest, pulling the fabric of his shirt—“was all yours. And I never wanted it back even when you ripped it out of my chest. So, no, Aurora. I didn’t love her. I couldn’t love her, not even if I wanted to. How could I when there was nothing left to give?”

  Tears prick the backs of my eyes as his words sink in. When I walked away from Jaxon, and I left him with nothing. He was empty, just like me. Except he found a way to cope. My tear-filled eyes scan the art on the walls. He did this. He created all of this, while I did nothing with my life. Nothing that means anything, anyway.

  Heat licks at the walls of my chest. “At least you had your art. I had nothing.”

  Jaxon’s mouth closes, his jaw tenses, and he pushes a breath out of his nose. “You think I wanted any of this without you?” he roars. Then, with a quick swivel, he grabs the canvas from the easel and tosses it across the room. I jump at the clatter it makes against the tile but recover quickly when he stalks away. The anger and disappointment he carries as he leaves is so heavy I want to run, but I think I’ve done enough of that.

  I hurt him then, and I’m hurting him now. It’s up to me to stop the cycle. I just don’t know how.

  Without another word between us, Jaxon wipes down the stations while I gather the abandoned wine glasses. I try to not pay any attention to his locked jaw, hard eyes, and the fact that he conveniently works his way around the room opposite me. But I notice everything.

  I wash the glasses in the kitchen sink, working slowly. I know when I walk into the studio again, it will be time to leave and maybe mutter a goodbye before Jaxon and I go our separate ways. In this moment, it feels like the chasm between us has widened. And I’m not ready for another goodbye, even if it’s just for the night. I don’t want every moment with him to be filled with tension, anger, and regret. But we’re filled to the brim with it.

  The last dish is put away and the dirty rags are in the hamper when I finally slip back into the studio. The lights are out, but I see Jaxon clearly lit by the glow of the street lamps streaming through the windows. He’s sitting on his desk, staring down, shoulders pressed forward and hands gripping the edge, his knuckles white.

  My chest squeezes at the sight of him. His face carries pain I’ve ignored for far too long. For a second, he reminds me of that same lost boy painting his dreams on cabin walls. I longed for him to look at me the way he looked at his paintings.

  Now, I just want him to look at me.

  When too many moments pass, I brave the journey across the room and stand in front of him. He still doesn’t move, so I press my palms into his legs and apply the slightest pressure for him to part them. He does.

  I step into the narrow space he left for me, his inner thighs brushing firmly against my hips. He’s not making this easy, but he’s not putting up a fight either. My heart pounds furiously as I slide my hands forward. They move up his thighs, stopping just before they reach his waist. “Jax, look at me.”

  His long lashes whip against his lids, and I’m transported into his storm. Jaxon’s world was always filled with chaos, with constant responsibility masked with words like opportunity and future. He was ready to flee the country the moment he got his chance, despite what his leaving would do to his relationship with his parents. I’m reminded of that boy when Jaxon looks up at me now, every inch of his features calling attention to his pain. The deep creases in his forehead. The pout of his lips. The heavy breaths that move his chest.

  Desperately, I search his troubled eyes for that anchor he promised. This time it’s me who needs to pull him back to shore. I have that power.

  My chest pushes into his with each breath as my hands firmly slide up his arms, over every ridge of terrain until they meet his shoulders. I squeeze, then cup his neck, my thumb brushing up into his shallow beard. His scruff is new to me, and there’s something intoxicating about the way it scratches my skin. I imagine the way it might feel if he were to kiss that tender spot in the crook of my shoulder…or in between my legs.

  I shiver. I’ve only ever imagined him tasting me there. Jaxon was always so careful with me, never wanting to move faster than he thought I was ready for. Little did he know, I wanted it all. I was just too afraid to tell him.

  His arms are still locked and pressed into the desk, but I swear I feel them shaking, relenting, so close to giving in.

  I lean in and press my lips to his ear. “I’m sorry, Jax.” He shivers, and my breathing grows heavier. “For leaving. For staying away. For coming back.” My voice croaks at my words. “All of it.”

  Guilt chooses this moment to swarm in. I should have thought about what coming back would do to him if he were still here. I should have never felt I had a right to return. Not without an invitation.

  Maybe the town is right to hate me for what my father did. Maybe I’m not as innocent as I want to believe.

  Suddenly I feel his strong hands on my back, pulling me close so our chests meet. My head falls to his shoulder, and it feels so damn good to be this close to him. He smells intoxicating, too.

  I lift my head to search his eyes, waiting for a signal to tell me what to do next, because all I can think about right now is how heavy my breathing is, how close our mouths are, and how none of it is enough. I can already feel the force building between us, ready to spark. All I know is that if it feels this good just to be in his arms, I might die if our lips ever touch again.

  His eyes fall to my lips like he can hear my thoughts. He circles his palm against my lower back as we linger in this embrace, swallowing our fears and filling the space with years of unspoken words and feelings. It’s simply too strong to deny.

  My lips find his first.

  My tongue slips out and skates across his thick bottom lip, trying not to shake on the outside the way I am on the inside. He groans and his arms tighten, crushing me to him in a possessive hold. And just like that, our mouths fuse together.

  My next breath catches in my throat as a shiver crawls over me and panic trickles through my veins. I’m desperate for a taste of the past, but I’m terrified of all that comes with it. Darkness tumbles in, and I try to shove it away. We’re so close, I want to cry. I need him as much as I am terrifie
d.

  But Jaxon would never let me drown. “Are you okay?” he murmurs into my mouth.

  I completely melt, my body molding into his, fitting into him just like I was meant to. I nod as I kiss him again, this time unrelenting.

  Once we’re settled in each other’s arms, his firm lips take the lead in a slow dance only the two of us know. I remember his demanding mouth and the way it used to part mine, just like it’s doing now. Naturally. Hungrily. The stroke of his tongue as it dips and tangles with mine.

  I’m lost in all things Jaxon when my fingers slide through the loose tendrils of his hair to slip off his knit cap. It falls to the desk and his thick curls tumble out. His hair is longer and wilder than I remember. There’s more to run my hands through. More to clutch for support as my pulse quickens. More to tug when I feel the bulge between his legs press hard into my belly.

  My hands play out their fantasies. They weave through his thick locks, gripping from the root and pulling him deeper into the kiss. I moan, and he groans in return, his arousal rubbing against me, so needy. His hands start to travel over my black jean skirt until his fingers grip the bottom hem, skimming the skin just below my ass.

  I gasp, pulling me from his mouth. Jaxon doesn’t miss a beat. He moves to my neck, his scruff tickling my sensitive skin and releasing chills all over my body. He tastes me, samples me, sucks me, until my mind is spinning and my skin feels raw to the touch. My hands continue to comb through his hair, tugging when he sucks, and scratching when he draws his tongue from my neck to my ear.

  He nibbles on my earlobe, sending a zing of heat coursing through my body. “Fuck, Aurora. I could get drunk off you.”

  Our lips connect again. I haven’t forgotten the way it feels to be wrapped up in Jaxon Mills, but it’s even better than I remember. His hold is stronger and his kisses more urgent yet somehow paced to perfection. He’s taking his time, but his need is thick and hard against me. He groans like he’s on the verge of stripping himself bare to climb inside me.

  Panting, I pull my mouth from his and reach for my shirt, lifting it over my head and tossing it to the floor beside us.

  Jaxon’s pained eyes slip down to my breasts as his hand moves to a strap of my bra. But instead of sliding it off my shoulder, he traces the edge of the fabric with his finger, down the strap, around the cup, and over the swell of my breasts. He moves a finger back and forth, teasing my sensitive skin until I think I’m going to lose it.

  “You were always so beautiful,” he says, and my heart stops. His eyes reach mine, but his fingers are still moving over my skin, never quite reaching the places I want them to. “You always felt so soft, like silk.” I gasp when he hooks a finger beneath the fabric and slides the cup from my breast. “Your nipples were always so hard for me.” He looks down as if to confirm that nothing has changed and sucks in a breath, blinking hard. “Goddamn, you’re still so beautiful.”

  I feel the heat of his mouth on my skin just before it wraps around my nipple. His tongue swirls. Desire pools in my belly and aches between my thighs, and I moan when he begins to suck me into his mouth. As if that isn’t enough to make me almost explode, his fingers tug at the bottom of my skirt, yanking the fabric up over my ass so it’s bunched at my waist. He palms both cheeks, squeezing, then lifts me onto the desk to straddle him.

  Fuck. My core hits his length just as he bites down lightly on my nipple. I cry out, tossing my head back and feeding my breast to his hungry mouth as I rub against him.

  Bang. Bang. Bang. A heavy beating on the glass from the front window of the studio breaks us apart. I look over Jaxon’s shoulder to see a flashlight, bright and aimed directly at me.

  “Shit,” Jaxon says as he replaces my bra and slides me off him.

  How reckless were we to be so exposed, to do this somewhere anyone could walk by? But in the heat of the moment, I didn’t care.

  “Everything okay in there?” a voice calls from outside.

  Jaxon’s head snaps toward the sound. He frowns. “It’s the sheriff doing his rounds. Let me go tell him we’re not robbing the place.” He hops off the desk, adjusts himself, then scrambles to grab my shirt and throw it to me. He takes two giant leaps to the front door, unlocks it, and pokes his head out.

  “It’s just me, Brooks. Closing up for the night and heading out. Everything okay?”

  “Ah, Jaxon. Thought I saw some movement. You alone in there?”

  “Uh, no. Aurora’s closing the café, so I’m walking her to her car.”

  Sheriff Brooks grunts in understanding. “Got it. Glad you’re both safe. Make sure she gets home okay tonight. There’s been some suspicious activity in the woods over the last week or so. Just be cautious. You know how kids are when they’re home from school and stir-crazy. Pullin’ pranks and gettin’ naked in the woods.” Brooks chuckles.

  “All right. Thanks, Brooks.” Jaxon shuts the door and leans against it, staring back at me with a light chuckle. “That was almost as much fun as getting caught by him under the waterfall.”

  A laugh bursts from my mouth. Now that is a memory I could never forget. How erotic and embarrassing all at the same time. Jaxon swore no one would be able to see us if we made love behind the sheet of the falls. I trusted him, like always. So there, under Hollow Falls, my back propped against the rocks, Jaxon stripped me completely bare and entered me. Just as soon as we’d started, Sheriff Brooks shone a light on us through the cascade, directly on us. He must have seen Jaxon’s motorcycle and known it was us because he called out our names and warned us to leave or he would call our parents.

  Jaxon wouldn’t have cared, but he knew I did. My father was sensitive to us being together, mostly because of Jaxon’s age. A seventeen-year-old with a twenty-one-year-old was a forbidden affair in my father’s eyes. Legally and emotionally, though, we were doing nothing wrong.

  A heavy sigh brings me back to the present. “We should get going,” Jaxon says. “You have everything?” His reluctance is relief to my ears. He doesn’t want to go. Neither do I.

  I nod, feeling a pout begin to form on my mouth. “Yeah, just let me grab my things.”

  I’m still dizzy from his kiss as I walk into the café and grab my things behind the counter. There’s a missed call and a text notification I decide to ignore. I won’t be getting back to anyone tonight with Jaxon’s scent dizzying my thoughts and the memory of his kiss burning its way through my insides.

  I shiver, zipping up my phone case, and meet Jaxon at the door where I left him.

  He locks up and shoves his hands in his pockets as we walk toward the parking lot. After the kiss we just shared, I can’t help but feel disappointed he didn’t take my hand. “You working tomorrow?” he asks, his head down.

  Small talk. I can handle that.

  “No, not tomorrow. I was planning on going for a hike. I’ve been here for two weeks and the only falls I’ve seen are yours.”

  He cocks his head at me and raises a brow. “Hiking alone?”

  “Would you like to come with me?”

  “Can I?”

  I smile. “Yes. Be my tour guide.”

  We’re at my car, both of us wearing smiles, and Jaxon catches me off guard by sweeping down and taking my mouth with his. He steps forward, backing me up to the door, his knee finding a home in between my thighs. His mouth is so firm and demanding, I can feel the bruising of my lips before he pulls away. Still, I want more.

  “I’m sorry Sheriff Brooks interrupted us,” he says against my mouth.

  I blush and give him a peck on the mouth. “Me too.”

  He backs away, his fingers clutching mine until the very last moment. “Tomorrow.” And it’s all he says before he climbs onto his bike, sets his helmet on his head, and starts his engine. He waits for me to leave first, and I try to hide my smile as I go.

  Tomorrow.

  I hear the purr of the engine outside just as I’m pouring coffee into my mug. I look up over the sink and out the
window to find Jaxon shutting off his bike. A tingle runs through me at the sight of him, all strength and long limbs, his skin darkened slightly from the sun, hair ruffled and tangled from the ride. I can almost smell his crisp, earthly scent from here.

  I’m opening the front door as Jax takes the last step onto the porch, a black helmet in his hands. White swim shorts grip his hips, the bottom hem falling just below his knees, and a sleeveless gray shirt clings freely to the carved muscle beneath it.

  A tiny earthquake erupts in my chest upon his approach. From here, with his back lit from the sun, he wears a halo of light that blurs the focus of everything but him.

  After our kiss last night, I went to sleep with my lips still tingling and the scent of him on my mind. I woke up not much different. And now he’s here, his gray eyes shining at me. I almost can’t believe it.

  “I know I had a few glasses of wine last night, but I don’t recall inviting you over for breakfast,” I tease as he steps inside.

  “You said you wanted to go for a hike.”

  I laugh. “Yeah. Later.”

  He laughs back, and I love how easy it is to banter with him. Meanwhile, excitement shoots off like fireworks in my chest.

  “Besides,” I tease, “you’re not dressed for a hike. You’re dressed like you’re about to go waterfall hopping.”

  He grins.

  I clasp my hands with glee. “We’re going waterfall hopping?”

  The smile that lights up his face makes my insides bloom.

  He hands me the helmet. “Let’s go.”

  “Wait! No. Not yet. I just woke up, hence this giant mug of coffee in my hands.” His eyes fall to the mug and then slip down to my attire, his eyes shining with interest. I’m braless in a white camisole and tiny pink night shorts that barely cover my ass. Shit. My free hand moves to cover a breast, but as it grazes over a hard nipple, I’m not sure that was the best idea. The hard tips ache under his gaze, as if he needed any extra confirmation how worked up I get just at the sight of him.