by Dani Stowe
Breakfast?
Reading a tablet?
And wearing...
Glasses and pajama bottoms?
Why is he here?
Why is he so damn sexy?
Fucker!
I lay my head back. Damn, I have to pee.
I chew on the fabric in my hands again and I grit my teeth when I realize I’m chowing down all over the neckline of Jaxon’s suit, which smells awesome, especially against my foul morning breath. I’m sure my mouth was open all night.
Oh God, I’m sure I smell. I’ve been in these same clothes for twenty-four hours. I wonder how long Jaxon has been here? I wonder if he heard me snore!
I roll to my side off the sofa landing lightly on my hands and knees. Maybe I can crawl to the bathroom like a cat, very quiet-like and unnoticed, just to clean up a bit.
Why do I care if I’m clean for Jaxon?
I take one step forward with a front paw when I hear a utensil land on a plate and that once squealy, nerdy voice turned a low tenor through age speaks.
“You need help getting in the shower? I’d be happy to help you while you’re in there as well.”
Ugh. He’s onto me.
“Honestly, I really just need to pee so no, but thank you,” I profess, collecting myself as I stand up and march straight into the bathroom.
I lock the door behind me and notice myself in the mirror. Mascara is down to my chin, tiny bits of plaque has built up between my teeth, and my hair! Oh God, my hair! It looks like I tried to drown it in oil before frying it.
My bladder shoots an alert straight up into my gut. I quickly drop my skirt when I notice my smell. Crap! Why? I rid myself of all my clothes. I smell worse than I ever have—worse than after a three-hour tennis match.
And again, why do I even care?
I throw my clothes into a pile in the corner and sit on the toilet to let my stream flow when I hear a knock.
It’s strange. I don’t understand why Jaxon would be knocking. “I’m busy in here,” I sing.
The door handle jiggles. “Can I come in?”
“No, you can’t come in!” I’m perplexed. “I’m peeing.”
“I want to talk to you.”
Crap. I feel like this is déjà vu, except instead of me trying to interrupt Jaxon’s shower when we were younger, it’s him trying to sneak in on me.
“Can you wait until I’m done?”
“Done peeing or done showering?’
I wish he could see my eyes roll. “Both!”
A tink and a pop sounds off from the handle and in comes Jaxon—shirtless. In flannel pajama pants. His glasses gone.
I quickly reach forward to pull a fluffy white towel from the towel rack and wad it up to cover my eyes. “I’m peeing!”
“I want to talk,” he says as his hands graze my thigh then both knees and I can sense him squat before me.
Don’t think about what’s between those legs, Sue! Don’t think about it!
“I can’t talk like this,” I mumble.
“Well, yeah. You got a towel in your face.” Jaxon and I struggle with towel until he finally wins, but I keep my eyes closed. “Sue, you can open your eyes. I put the towel in my lap. Nothing’s going to peep out and try to frighten you.”
Jaxon rubs his hands up and down my outer thighs. The feeling is comforting and I wish he’d rub me all over. Sleeping on that sofa really put a kink in my neck.
He rubs my arms, massaging them, and damn, it feels good. His hands are so different than they were when he was younger. His fingers are longer and stronger. He moves them to the back of my neck. “Does that feel good?”
“Mmm,” I moan and notice my folds are cool and wet. I’m still on the toilet!
I twist to reach for some toilet paper but Jaxon beats me to it and unravels and rolls a few sheets into a wad.
I look up to the ceiling. “Jax, I want to clean up. Can you get out? I need to get in the shower.”
He pulls my hand open and puts the paper in my hand. “I want to get in with you.”
Reluctantly, I look at Jaxon—sexy and shirtless, a towel at his groin he’s placed to hide his bulge but can’t hide the thin trail of hair that has hiked its way up through the years in a line from below his navel to his chest where it spreads in a small sprawled patch between his pecks. Despite the pain he caused and the potential I know he has to inflict more pain, I find myself admiring him.
He cocks his unshaven head sideways, putting his wide smile with perfect pearly whites in view. My lashes flutter—he caught me checking him out.
“No,” I say sternly. He cannot get in the shower with me! Of course, I’m crushing on him again, but there’s no way, this time, we are going to end up in the shower together.
“What if I promise not to touch you?” He rubs his hands rough against the sides of my thighs.
I laugh. “I’m on the toilet, Jax, and you can’t seem to stop touching me now. Aren’t you embarrassed? I stink.”
His fingers spread wider over the tops of my legs and he digs the pads of his fingers firmly in to my thighs as he rubs me up and down, leaning his chest into my knees, and making me quiver. “I like your stink.”
I laugh internally but try to keep a straight face. “I’m sitting on a pot of yellow pee.”
“I like that, too.”
He must be joking. “But I smell. I’m covered in sweaty funk leftover from yesterday.”
“I like funky even better.”
I pout with a huff, blowing it in his face. “And my breath stinks. I haven’t brushed my teeth since yesterday morning, so I’m sure I have leftover hot dog between my teeth.”
“I love hot dogs, especially between teeth,” he smiles coyly.
I sigh. “Some people might call you strange.”
“I’m not strange. I’m a man.”
My insides ache and my head hurts. I concentrate, keeping thoughts of what Jaxon’s trying to implant in my brain, which is him, or, more specifically a big part of him, implanted somewhere in me. I feel a tug within. My heart wishes to float but its anchored to the bowl beneath me ready to be flushed away.
“Please get out, Jaxon,” I ask softly, beggingly.
His smile falls flat and he nods, forcing a fake grin. “Okay,” he recedes. “Can we at least talk when you’re finished? I’m not getting out until you agree to talk about what happened between us.”
He lifts my chin with a knuckle and that needy look of desperation to finish something we’ve started is too familiar. I know I should say no, especially before I get hurt again—physically.
Just. Say. No.
Jaxon runs his fingers through my hair and I can smell sweet strawberry jam on his breath. “Okay,” I mutter.
Okay?
You just said, Okay!
You were supposed to say, No!
Jaxon’s eyes twinkle above his pretty smile but I turn my head away as he comes to standing. He’s sweet enough to shut the door behind him as he exits.
I let out a lengthy but controlled exhale, spreading my knees apart, and rub the wad of toilet paper Jaxon rolled into my hand along my center folds to wipe myself. I jolt when Jaxon barges back in.
Oh fuck! He squishes my face between his palms, forcing my head to tilt back as he plants solidly puckered wet lips in my partially opened mouth.
Jaxon remains unmoved for what feels like an eternity as he hunches over me, squeezing my face to kiss me. He’s kissing my teeth, really. He holds this position, holds my face—me—until his thick slippery tongue swipes across my front, dirty, unbrushed teeth. It tugs at my heartstrings and the anchor that’s been pulling me down makes an attempt to yank me down harder. Nevertheless, my heart floats straight up into my filthy mouth, lifted by the curl of the tip of Jaxon’s tongue against my top lip where I lightly lick his tongue back.
“Hmm,” he moans with a smile, breaking our kiss. His eyes open to beam straight into mine, boring into my core as if he can see the weight holding me back. “Talk,” he
says as if he needed physical confirmation of the agreement. Jaxon lets go to swiftly turn around, walking out as quickly as he had reentered, shutting the door behind him.
Glancing down to my pussy full of fuzz where my hand was resting the whole time, I drop the toilet paper into the bowl. I remember how I used to shave between my legs when I was younger, just in case I was ever going to have sex.
I was obsessed with being prepared.
But I haven’t shaved in ages. I figure no man was ever going to get down there because of my phobia, so what was the point?
Jaxon was down there yesterday and I find myself bouncing—silly—unable to resist thoughts of his tongue. I wonder if it would hurt if he put his tongue in me?
The idea is promising and my knees clap together as I wipe Jaxon’s saliva off my mouth with my forearm. The thought Jaxon might be willing to go down on me again strikes me with a sudden urge to get smooth. I’m not even sure if I remember how to shave. I grit my teeth when I realize I don’t have a razor to shave with and I twist, finally, turning to flush.
Chapter 9
Ursula
I emerge from the shower feeling refreshed, like myself. I don’t know what happened yesterday. Between the sudden shock of Jaxon’s surprise appearance sparking my fear, which became curiously masked by overwhelming urges to get physical with him, and then my antianxiety pill knocking me out... the events are as convoluted as my mind.
As I dry myself off, I realize I have no clothes in here.
Ah fuck!
I gently turn the door handle and peep out to see Jaxon has donned a pair of jeans and he’s stroking his navel, talking on the phone. He’s grown to be so beautiful. My mind is convoluting again.
Double fuck!
I wrap the hotel towel around my body, twisting it tight around my breasts and I run towards my suitcase on the bed. Flipping it open, I’m ready to rummage through it when I notice my clothes have been folded. I look about the room and everything has been neatly cleaned and tucked, as if the maid had already been in.
“A dress,” Jaxon says loudly. “I hung it in the closet.”
“Excuse me?” I turn to him.
“I’m taking you out.” His hand muffles the phone.
“Jaxon, it is not a good idea for us to be going out on a date when I’m engaged in the inspection and analysis of a drug your company intends to market.”
“Let me rephrase. It’s not a date. We’re going to talk. That’s it. Unless you get hungry, then I’ll be forced to feed you, in which case we’ll call it date and you’ll have to quit your job and come work with me at NIM.”
He smiles glibly, like he’s made a joke but not really. It feels like that moment in the shower years ago when he said he was too big for the condom I provided and I thought he was joking, trying to impress me, but I know now he wasn’t joking at all.
I pull out a pair of stretchy black jeans when I hear Jaxon’s voice get louder as he approaches with a stomp, sounding frustrated on the phone. He yanks the pants from my hands and muffles the phone again.
“Dress,” he glowers, then moves in behind me. “Please. Stop keeping my man card. Okay?” He nuzzles his nose under my wet hair to plant a kiss at the nape of my neck that sends a jolt of electricity straight through my body, which beams into the surrounding space like he’s jolted me with his man powers.
Man card. As if anybody could steal that from him. I haven’t seen him in ages and I’m already letting him love on me, kiss me, without resistance because he’s pure hot man with an endless supply of man power. Not only did he outgrow his nerdiness and become a town hero for rescuing a damsel in distress, but the man is also super smart, super rich, super sexy, and he knows where to plant his lips and where to slip his super thick tongue...
Ah shit.
I’m crushing on Jaxon Underwood all over again.
I glance over at him—head cocked, so focused, so intense in his conversation like he used to look in high school when he was having lunch and conspiring with the rest of the nerds and their dark overlord—Nick.
We all knew those sneaky, too-smart-for-their-own-good bastards were up to something. Something big. It was their potential that might’ve been the cause for all the bullying they received. Deep down, some of us were jealous. Sure, they were easy pickings as physical weaklings, but the entire student body knew those geeks, together, in league with the rich kid, were going to make something of themselves and take over the world someday. I fear this drug they’ve developed is going to help them do exactly that.
I’m proud to say I made something of myself. I did well in high school because my parents demanded it. We were among one of the wealthier families in our county. Jaxon was in a few of my classes and I liked the way he always looked at me, though my boyfriends didn’t like it. Jaxon finally had the courage to say, “Hello,” one day in the lunch line. It so happened I forgot my lunch ticket but Jaxon came to the rescue offering up his own ticket. I remember it was hot dog day. I made sure to sit right in Jaxon’s view so he could watch me grind that hot dog as a thank you, except I regretted it afterward. My boyfriend, who was on a different lunch schedule than us, heard a rumor that Jaxon was flirting with me. Jaxon got his ass kicked and I felt really bad about the whole ordeal.
Sometimes, I felt I knew Jaxon better than any other boy at school, even better than I knew my own boyfriends, although Jaxon and I never actually talked beyond a few classwork related details. It was the looks he gave me that gave him away and I could tell what he was feeling.
I look to him now, watching him trail his solid abs in circles with his fingertips until he runs those fingers downward where he plays with the trail of hair in the space between his navel and his low hanging jeans. It’s interesting, this role reversal. I want to be close to him, knowing I can’t have him.
I inhale slow and deep. I’d like to rub my face in those fine hairs, but I know what lies lower, beneath the jeans, probably aching to make an appearance.
My chest tightens. Relax, Ursula.
I exhale slowly and control my inner emotions. Jaxon would never hurt you on purpose. You’ve discussed this with your therapist. It was a simple miscommunication. I recite my go-to mantras: Jaxon is not a danger to you. A man’s endowment is not intended to hurt you. Sex is not a bad thing.
Jaxon catches me in a daze and glaring at him. He smiles, blushes, and winks.
Oh God. I feel like I’m back in the fire. Not only am I in danger, but I’m most definitely going to get hurt.
Bad.
Chapter 10
Ursula
“Where are we going?” I tilt my head back, looking up to the tops of skyscrapers through the window of Jaxon’s cherry red Ferrari. He asked if I was impressed with his car as he held the door open for me to get in. I told him I didn’t know much about cars but it was most certainly a pretty color. When he replied with a sulking face that it was a “GTB,” I couldn’t help but chuckle. As if I would care.
“It’s perfect for you,” I said, “a car that Gets The Bitches.”
He face-palmed himself in defeat and then shut my door, laughing at himself.
It was endearing being able to embarrass him. He seems to have changed so much since high school, but then again, I wouldn’t really know. Jaxon and I never talked beyond “What answer did you get on number five?” in math class. In fact, the most we ever talked was on the night of the fire, which led to us in the shower and me—a phobic.
I study the buildings as we drive through the congestion of cars, taxis, and people. I don’t live in this city, but I already know the path we are taking and a new fear begins to creep its way into my chest.
I look over to Jaxon. He’s very serious now, his adorable smile swept away by who-knows-what is going on in his brain, and he hasn’t answered my question. I’m tempted to repeat myself, but I already know the answer to where we are headed...
NIM.
It’s very strange—the relationship, or lack thereof, I have wi
th Jaxon. We are like earth’s magnetic poles, always opposite to one another, to never see or truly know the other, but we are bound together by a magnetism science could never explain.
For one night, however, fate allowed us to switch poles and as the man sitting next to me steers us towards the place where I believe he thinks our poles will become united once more, I fear he will have to learn for himself that I am only capable of repelling.
“I don’t want to go to NIM,” I say outright.
Jaxon lets out a sigh and lifts the skirt of my frilly solid rayon white dress to lay his hand on my thigh. “We’re just going to talk.”
“I don’t want to talk there.”
He squeezes my thigh. “Why not?”
“Why should we?”
“It’s quiet and I have resources there I think will help us.”
Resources? At NIM? Strange.
“Help us do what?”
“Help us to talk.” He blurts the words in frustration.
“I get the feeling there’s more in store than just talking.”
“I hope so,” he says, “but you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. You know you can trust me, Sue. In fact, you’ll be in command. I’ll do whatever you say, whatever you ask. We’ll talk and I’ll do whatever you want me to do.”
“I want you to turn around.”
“Except that.”
“I don’t want you to take me to NIM.”
Jaxon slides his hand up higher on my thigh and squeezes. “You know I would never hurt you, Sue.”
You already did.
Jaxon lets go of my thigh to sharply turn the wheel of his bitchin’ red car, leading us down into the underground garage of NIM. He parks the car in his reserved stall and I glance over to notice how long his limbs are. If he was still the same height he was back in high school, he’d probably have to stretch his neck to see over the dashboard. Now, he seems squished. His knees hug the sides of the steering wheel and...oh shit! I’m thinking about what hangs between his thighs.
My chest tightens as Jaxon exits and walks around the vehicle to open my door. “I can’t get out,” I confess immediately.