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She can’t hide her shock at seeing Jaxson and something else. It’s as if her mind is skipping back over the years, remembering all the moments they shared, the intimacy I could barely comprehend when I was younger.
“Looks like I called you for no reason,” I murmur.
“What’s going on?” Mom drops her bags and marches into the room. “Why is he here?”
“Hello to you too, Mallory.”
Oh, yes, there’s definitely tension in the air. Somebody get me a knife.
CHAPTER2
Jaxson
It’skeep-it-togethertime.
When Zoey called, I didn’t expect this. The second she opened the door, everything changed. The thoughts that instantly filled my mind weren’t at all noble. It took me a second to comprehend that the woman at the door was Zoey, the shy kid, her face always buried in a book. I’d say hello when I visited Mallory to help with the house, but we never spoke much.
Now, she’s a woman, her hair a deep-brown color and cascading to her shoulders. Her makeup-less face is flushed and beautiful, her eyes wide and youthful, her lips kissable, her body…
Stop it, Jax, I imagine Luke saying, my old military buddy. I promised I’d take care of his family if anything happened to him. Then there was the mess with Mallory ten years ago, and now this—the pulsing deep in my chest, the hunger in my balls when I think about Zoey’s body so curvy in her jeans and her T, her breasts large, her hips wide. The wordvoluptuouswas made for her.
“I’m sorry,” Mallory says after a pause. “I didn’t mean to be rude.”
She doesn’t need to apologize. After what happened, she asked me to stay away, and I respected that.
“It was my fault,” Zoey says. “I thought you were missing. You weren’t answering your phone.”
“I left it at work by mistake,” Mallory replies.
“Oh.” Zoey’s shoulder’s deflate, and my hand tightens into a fist to stop me from placing my hand on her, a comforting gesture that would soon turn lust-filled and savage. “I was worried… because of Axel.”
Mallory’s gaze flashes to me as if she doesn’t want to talk about her ex in my presence.
“I’m fine. I went shopping with a coworker, that’s all.”
“I guess there’s no need for me,” I say, trying to keep my tone lighthearted.
I’m looking anywhere but at Zoey, conscious of her standing right beside me. It’s madness, but it’s almost as if her scent is washing around me, through me, infusing my body, mind, soul, my everything.
“Would you like a coffee or anything before hitting the road?”
Mallory asks the question halfheartedly, with pure politeness. She doesn’t want me to stay.
“No, that’s fine. As long as everything’s okay.”
“It is,” Mallory says stiffly.
“I’ll get going, then. I’m glad you’re both doing well. Good luck with the writing, Zoey.”
That’s as much civilized talk as I can handle, and then I’m out the door, almost running across the street. In the car, I let out a shuddering breath as I attempt to build a prison in my mind—a cage with thick bars where I’ll put all these thoughts.
No sexual fantasies about Zoey. No thinking about the taste of her lips. No imagining what it would feel like to stroke my hands from her thighs, across her hips, and then to her breasts, greedily massaging them as she moans and leans against me, her hand reaching out for my groin.
This is going to have to be one hell of a cage.
* * *
After working out with one of my old friends, Peter, I head back to my apartment and try to finish the chapter I was working on earlier. It’s late, but that’s often when I get my best work done, the world sleeping, and my creativity flowing.
