That's all it takes. Her permission. Her demand.
I come undone, my body shuddering against hers, my cum painting the shower wall, a strangled version of her name escaping my lips. The world narrows to just her—her touch, her scent, her eyes watching me fall apart.
When I can think again, I'm slumped against her, both of us breathing hard. She looks pleased with herself, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of her mouth.
"Shit," I manage, half-laughing, half-gasping. "That was..."
"Mhmm," she finishes for me, pressing a quick kiss to my lips.
Something shifts in her expression then—a flash of vulnerability quickly masked. She turns away, reaching for the shampoo, and I realize she's retreating. Not physically, but emotionally, like she's afraid of what just happened between us so she's putting her walls back up.
I don't let her get away that easily. I take the shampoo from her hands, pouring some into my palm before working it into her hair. She stiffens for a moment, surprised by the tender gesture, but then she relaxes into my touch.
"Feel good?" I ask, my voice steadier now.
She glances over her shoulder, that mask slipping back into place. "You don't have to?—"
"I want to," I cut her off, my hands massaging her scalp. "I want to make you feel good too."
Something flickers in her eyes—uncertainty, maybe, like she's not used to someone wanting to please her without expecting anything in return. It’s almost like she's waiting for the other shoe to drop.
"Let me," I whisper, turning her to face me.
She hesitates then nods, allowing me to rinse the shampoo from her hair. I take my time, making sure every touch communicates what I can't.
This means something to me.Shemeans something to me. This isn't casual for me—it never has been, and it never will be.
When we finally step out of the shower, I wrap her in a towel, pulling her close. For a moment, she lets herself lean into me, herguard down just enough that I can see the real Madison—not the confident girl who just took me apart with skilled hands, but someone softer, someone who might be just as afraid of this thing between us as I am.
Then, the moment passes. She steps back, that familiar smirk returning to her lips, but her eyes remain vulnerable, uncertain.
"Come on," I say softly, taking her hand. "Let's get ready for bed."
I lead her into her bedroom, both of us still wrapped in towels, water dripping from our hair. The tension between us has shifted—no longer just physical desire, but something deeper, something more complex.
I understand then. She's afraid of the intensity, afraid of what this means, afraid that once we cross this line completely, there's no going back.
I brush my thumb across her cheek, my touch gentle. "Mads, look at me."
She does, those hazel eyes locking onto mine.
"This changes nothing," I say firmly. "And everything. In all the best ways."
Her breath hitches. "Jax?—"
"I want you," I continue, needing her to understand. "Not just tonight. Not just for now. I want all of you, in every way possible."
Something in her expression shifts, a quiet acceptance replacing the fear. She reaches for me, her hand cupping my jaw, her thumb tracing my lower lip.
"Show me," she whispers, and the vulnerability in her voice nearly undoes me.
I stand, gently pushing her back onto the bed, my body hovering over hers. The towel slips away, leaving her exposed beneath me, her hair fanned out across the pillow.
She's never looked more beautiful than she does right now—open, honest, giving herself to me in a way I know isn't easy for her.
I lower my head, pressing a soft kiss to her lips. "I've got you, baby. I promise."
34
