Because no one has ever cared like this. No one has ever seenme the way he does. No one has ever fought for me the way he wants to if I’d just let him.
I let out a shaky breath, pressing my forehead to his, my voice barely above a whisper. "You're crazy, Montgomery."
"Crazy about you? Yeah, I definitely am." His lips quirk slightly, but there's still so much behind his eyes, so much he's holding back—love and protectiveness and a fierce desire that steals my breath.
I don't want him to hold back, not anymore.
So, I kiss him.
It’s not the heated, desperate kisses we've shared before. No, this is something else entirely. Something slow. Soft. Deliberate.
Like a thank you for seeing me, for always choosing me, even when I didn't choose myself.
Jaxon groans against my lips, a sound torn from the depths of his soul—broken and wanting and relieved all at once. His arms wrap fully around me, pulling me against him, his hands everywhere as he kisses me deeper, like he's drowning in this—in us.
And I let him.
Because maybe...maybe I'm drowning in it too.
Maybe I've been drowning for most of my life, and he's the only one who has ever dived in to save me.
33
JAXON
Iswear, I've imagined this a hundred different ways.
Late at night, alone in my bed, thinking about what it would be like to really touch her, to feel her, to see her like this—bare, open, mine.
But every single thought, every single fantasy I've ever had about Madison Blake, is nothing compared to this.
To her.
To the way she's looking at me now, her lips parted, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. Her eyes—those brown eyes that have haunted me for years—are dark with want, but something else too, something that looks a lot like trust.
Her fingers trail over my abs, tentative at first, like she's memorizing the feeling of my skin, like she's learning me through touch alone.
My pulse pounds as I let her strip me bare, her hands dragging down my arms to toss the sweatshirt to the floor. Each point of contact burns like a brand, marking me as hers in ways I've always wanted.
And then, her fingers go for the waistband of my sweatpants.
I freeze.
Not because I don't want this. God, do I want this, more thanI've ever wanted anything. More than football. More than the draft. More than any dream I've ever chased.
But this is new. I don't know what I'm doing, and the last thing I want is to fuck this up for her.
For us.
Because this isn't just sex. This is Madison, the girl I've been in love with since before I even understood what love was.
She must see something in my expression, because her fingers still, her eyes searching mine. "Jax?"
I swallow hard, forcing my voice to stay steady. "Yeah?"
Her lips twitch, her hands sliding up my stomach, slow and so damn soft, it makes me ache. "Are you nervous?"
I exhale a short laugh, running a hand through my hair. "I mean, yeah. Kinda. Yes."
