Page 66 of The Jaded Notes

I slide my hand up her spine until my palm is splayed against the back of her neck, grounding her to me. “Livianna, I want to give you everything you think you have to steal.”

Her inhale is sharp and needy. Her movements stop.

I sense the shift. Not in her position, but something deeper. It’s like the part of her that’s always been running from a monster just turned back and saw it was only me. I’m not chasing her or trying to hurt her. I just want her.

She melts against me. “I don’t know what to do with that.”

“Good.” I nuzzle the shell of her ear. “Maybe tonight we’ll both learn something new.”

She grinds her hips one more time, slower now, as if she’s memorizing the feel of control before she loses it.

And just as my hands slide around her thighs, the driver’s voice cuts through the intercom. “We’ve arrived, sir.”

She climbs off my lap and straightens her dress like she wasn’t just grinding on me.

Her gaze sparkles my way. “Let’s see if your penthouse is as sexy as your promises.”

Chapter Fifteen

LIVIANNA/LILY

Then

Marble Floors & The Echo Of Choices

Some moments feel louder than promises. This one sounds like my undoing.

The elevator doors that open directly into Jax’s place part with a slick hush.

I step inside a world I’ve only imagined in slivers. Jaxon Crowne is finally letting me get a taste of him.

“Jax…” A shiver runs through me. “Wow.”

“Welcome. Let’s go in and start with a drink.” He steps forward, but I remain where I am.

I want to savor the moment.

This place doesn’t announce itself with opulence. It seduces in low tones and calculated contrast.

Warm amber lighting seeps from a high ceiling, casting golden strokes over dark herringbone floors and walls paneled in smoked oak, the kind that looks soft enough to touch but likely costs more than my entire rent.

Every line is clean. Every detail is intentional, just as Jax and his power are.

The setting is luxurious. It’s masculine in the way Jaxon is…composed, sensual, and unknowable. Far too intimate for anyone to walk through without second-guessing every move.

How many women have had the honor of being here with him?

The room is focused, as if built for silence to echo and for desire to speak through longing gazes rather than words.

A linear gas fireplace hums across one wall. Its low flame dances behind frameless glass, casting flickers over nearby metal fixtures—burnt bronze, brushed steel, and those quiet signs of wealth that don’t beg to be noticed but can’t be ignored.

Music plays low through speakers I can’t see. They’re probably hidden inside the ceiling or behind some high-grade acoustic paneling. The notes are so soft, as if meant to put me at ease.

I hover at the threshold, not quite sure I belong here. What if I blow my chances somehow?

Jax coaxes me forward with a gentle tickle of his fingertips across my palm. My heels click once on the wood floor, the sound swallowed instantly by the height of the ceilings and the weight of the moment.

Beside me, Jax doesn’t speak. It’s like he knows I’m having doubts myself, so he doesn’t push.