She smacks me on the arm. “Stop that.”
“It’s true.”
“You go on and spend some time with your …” She lifts a carefully arched brow.
“I don’t know what she is to me, Mom. But I like her.”
She winks. “I know you do.”
I shuffle my feet against the concrete. “Do you think this is too fast? I mean, I haven’t known her that long. This all just happened, but it didn’t feel like it. Not to me.”
“You get one life. If you know what you want, and who you want to spend even a day of it with, you should do that.”
Makes sense.
I kiss her cheek. “Thank you for all you do. You’re the best.”
“I know. Thank you.”
Laughing, I walk backward toward the house. “When does Dad get back from Michigan?”
“Next week. This fishing hobby of his is starting to get on my nerves.” She opens the driver’s side door. “Although, I do enjoy falling asleep to things other than sports channels.” She climbs in. “I’ll call you later with an update.”
“Bye, Rosie. Later, Mom.”
“Goodbye, Boone.”
As soon as her door shuts, I turn and jog to the house.
My heart thumps in my chest as I enter the foyer. The sound of running water comes from the kitchen, so I head there.
Jaxi is standing at the sink with a plate in her hand.
“What are you doing?” I ask her, my voice pained with suppressed desire.
“I just wanted to rinse some of these off while I have a second.”
I nearly prowl around the counter. “They can wait.”
“It’ll just take a second.”
The Alexa switches songs to “Ride” by Chase Rice. The slow, sensual opening beats pulse through the room.
I walk up behind her and grab the end of her ponytail. The motion causes her back to arch and her ass to pop out. I widen my stance and let my cock brush against her backside.
“Are you rushing me, Mr. Mason?” she asks, the words raw.
“Yes, I’m rushing you.”
I press my lips against the crook of her neck. Her head falls farther back, and a low moan escapes her throat.
It’s as if someone cranked the thermostat in my blood.
I can’t take it.
From the edge of her shoulder, up her throat, and to the base of her ear, I press kiss after kiss to her sweet, soft skin.
Her eyes flutter closed. The lashes splay against her cheeks as she bends her head to allow me more access.
“Turn,” I whisper. “The. Water. Off.”
The plate in her hand wobbles. The edge catches the stream of water and falls noisily into the sink.
“Let me finish,” she whispers breathlessly.
I nibble at her neck, making her jump, before I pull away from her. A host of goose bumps spatter down her arms.
She reaches for the plate again, and I’m not sure if she’s fucking with me or if she really thinks this is the time to do dishes.
Fuck. That.
I grab her hips, letting my fingers dip into her waist, and turn her around.
Her eyes go wide as she’s spun unexpectedly. I plant my lips on hers as I lift her to the edge of the sink.
Her ass dips into the pool of water behind her. Shots of water spray into the air as the stream bounces off her back.
Our mouths move together in a frenzied way. I weave my fingers into her hair to hold her in place.
This woman is breaking me and putting me back together, even though I didn’t know I needed that.
Her kisses are the glue that holds me, my hopes, my dreams—the me that goes to work, about how to create passive income, and DVR cartoons so a little girl can watch all of the episodes—together.
I have no idea how we got here so fast. I don’t know why I bought in from the beginning.
I just followed my heart.
“You get one life. If you know what you want, and who you want to spend even a day of it with, you should do that.”
I grin against her lips.
Jaxi is it.
And I’m never letting her go.
Jaxi
Don’t let me go.
Water crashes down my back. My shorts are soaked and I’m grateful I didn’t add the dirty dishes to the basin.
My hands roam over his muscled shoulders, across his rock-hard pecs, and down his chiseled stomach until I find the hem of his shirt. I make quick work of pulling it up and over his head—only letting our lips separate for the briefest of moments.
He tastes like cinnamon and syrup. Heat and spice. Passion and hunger.
Water splashes onto the floor as I help his attempt at getting me out of my shirt by wiggling to separate the wet fabric from my skin.
The feeling of letting go, of giving in, makes me feel alive again.
He flings my shirt across the kitchen. It lands somewhere with a wet thud.
I reach behind me to turn off the water. In response, he pulls me into his body again.