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Sipping my wine, there’s an eerie silence, and I observe him closely. The orange glow from the flames of the candles illuminates his masculine features, enhancing his strong jawline, dark brows, and his sharp, mysterious eyes.
He stares at me intently, his irises gleaming in the moonlight. “You’re the only woman I’ve brought here,” he says, guarded.
My breathing hitches. “Oh.”
“You’re hardly drinking your wine.”
Glancing down to my nearly full glass, I shyly grin. “I guess I’m craving a beer tonight.”
He arches an eyebrow, impressed. “I’ll grab you one,” he mutters, dismissing himself from the table.
Once he disappears through the back door, I’m finally able to release the deep breath I’ve been holding in for several minutes. It’s a bizarre feeling to realize that I’m the only Submissive he’s brought to this cabin. That must mean something.
He returns with an ice-cold bottle of beer, and sets it down beside my plate. “All you had to do was ask.”
After nearly chugging down half the bottle, I let out a satisfied sigh. Suddenly, something dawns on me, and my shoulders become tense. It’s a thought that hasn’t even crossed my mind, not until this very moment.
“There it is,” Jaxon says, pouring another glass of Bourbon. “You have that look.”
“No, I don’t.”
His expression becomes unreadable. “Look where being dishonest has got us.”
“It got us here,” I counter, taking another bite.
He sighs. “Honesty remains in the contract.”
There is the answer to my question.
I look him straight in the eyes. “So, the contract still stands.”
He slightly frowns, cocking his head to the side. “Of course, it does, Sasha. Why wouldn’t it?”
And he’s right. How could I think it would be any different?
* * *
Laughing so hardmy stomach hurts, on the living room floor, I place my empty beer bottle onto the table. I haven’t had this much fun in years.
“That’s the funniest story I’ve heard in a while,” I drunkenly giggle. “I needed that laugh.”
“It’s not funny. More embarrassing than anything,” he retorts, chuckling himself.
“You’re laughing, too, so it must be funny.”
He smirks, leaning forward to pour another glass of whiskey. “I’m only laughing because your laughter is contagious.”
“Tell me another. Please?”
“No,” he states, stretching his arm out over the head of the couch. “It’s your turn.”
“You want me to tell you a funny story now?”
“Anything,” he swiftly answers. “Tell me anything.”
“Hmm.” I hesitate, trying to think of a childhood memory. “My dad used to take me to Disney World without my mom knowing. She would sometimes have to travel for work. It would only be for a few days at a time, but whenever she would leave, he’d dismiss me from school and we would drive down to Florida.”
He grins. “That’s a nice memory.”
