In my bed. In my life. Mine.
A soft chuckle escapes me as I shake my head, grabbing a pair of sweats from my drawer before tossing the towel and climbing in beside her.
She shifts slightly when the mattress dips, her body instinctively moving toward mine, her fingers grazing my stomach as she exhales softly.
I can’t help but smile, brushing a strand of hair from her face, letting my fingers linger on her skin.
I never thought I’d get this, never thought I’d get to call her mine again.
But I do.
And I’ll spend every single day making damn sure she never doubts it.
52
MADISON
The shift of the mattress stirs me just enough to pull me from the edges of sleep.
Warmth. The scent of fresh soap and clean skin. The familiar weight of him settling in beside me.
Jaxon.
I keep my eyes closed, my body instinctively drawn toward his, even in sleep. His presence is steady, grounding, something I could sink into so easily.
But where’s the fun in that?
Instead, I stretch—slowly, deliberately, the soft sheets dragging along my skin as I arch my back, sighing quietly. I feel his body tense beside me, the sharp inhale of breath he probably doesn’t even realize he takes.
Interesting.
I shift again, turning onto my side, my legs tangling with his under the sheets. My bare thigh brushes against his as I sigh contentedly, my hand lazily drifting across his stomach.
His muscles tighten under my palm, the ridges of his abs flexing, betraying just how much control he’s using to keep himself still.
Just because I can, I move closer. My lips barely ghostalong the base of his throat, my fingers splaying across his ribs as I murmur, “Mmm…you smell good.”
Jaxon exhales sharply, and I know without looking that his jaw is locked, his hands gripping the sheets.
“Madison,” he warns, voice thick and rough from sleep.
I smile against his skin, tracing lazy circles on his stomach. “Hmm?”
He shifts, just slightly, his arm sliding under me, his fingers tracing the curve of my waist. His touch is light—too light, like he’s waiting for me to push things further.
Like he’s waiting for permission.
A slow, delicious warmth spreads through me, the tension between us stretchingthin, and I know if I press just a little harder, if I tilt my chin and look up at him, his control will snap.
Jaxon exhales sharply, his hand flexing on my hip like he’s barely holding on. For a second, I think he’s going to flip me onto my back, press his body over mine, and take control the way I know he wants to.
Instead, he just lets out a heavy breath and mutters, “Goodnight, Madison.”
I grin against his skin, my fingers still splayed across his stomach, my body still curved into his. So close, close enough to feel the tension rolling through him, the way his muscles are pulled taut beneath my touch, the way his breath comes just a little too fast for someone who’s supposed to be going to sleep.
But that’s not what I want.
Not tonight.
