Ignite

“Did you kill him?” I asked again, determined to get the answer out of him. I propped myself up on one elbow and stared down at him.

He looked at me, half amused, half annoyed. “No, I didn’t.”

Not wanting to be taken for an idiot, I said, “I’m sure you didn’t, but did you have him killed?”

He sighed and shook his head. “No.”

I studied him for a long moment, waiting for something to slip in that face of his. If he was lying, he didn’t show it.

“Are you a thug?”

He burst out laughing, but I didn’t allow that to make me feel silly. I remained serious, waiting patiently for him to calm down and answer the question.

“No,” he finally said. “I’m not a thug.”

“What do you do?”

“I own a few businesses around town.”

“What businesses?”

“Why don’t I show you tomorrow?”

I shook my head. “I’m busy tomorrow. I’ve got my dead mother’s house to sort through, and then I’ve got to go back home. So why not just tell me what businesses you own?”

He twisted his lips, and propped himself up on his elbow too so that we were face to face barely a foot away. “So you won’t let me show you while you’re here?”

“No.”

“Then I guess you’ll never know.”

Irritated by his cockiness, I turned away and settled myself back down on the far end of the mattress. I heard him chuckle to himself.

I hated how smug he was being, but I wanted to talk to him more. I was addicted to his voice, and breathing the same air as him, and feeling the pool of warmth he was helping to create beneath the covers – I couldn’t focus on sleep. I felt that ache again, an ache that could only be satiated by his touch. I tightly squeezed my thighs together, not wanting to get too carried away by my thoughts. Yet when I stopped thinking, the images flashed before my eyes; his tattoo, the broad shoulders near my face straining when he thrust into me, the sounds he made, the painful kisses he gave me, and the fullness I felt of him inside of me. Fuck, I hate this.

I was grouchy now that I was horny as hell and couldn’t do a thing about it. No way in hell would I initiate anything again, and if he initiated it? Well, tough for him. I wasn’t going to be used like a tissue and discarded the second the show was over. I felt him repeatedly move around behind me, as if he too was restless. Yet neither of us said another word, nor made any sneaky movements that had us drawing anywhere nearer to one another in search of that satiation.             

I closed my eyes and thought of an endless clear blue sky, imagined cool air hitting my face, and the peace and quiet of being up high and away from the noise of the world below. I tried to think of the tranquillity I’d feel in the company of myself, of being happy and at peace… And then, just like that, I thought of sex with Jaxon, and that peaceful, tranquil sky morphed into seedy images of being fucked by him.

This was going to be a long night.

*****

I was thankful that sleep won over sometime later. I fell into a deep, content slumber, and not once did I stir. I was pleasantly surprised that my body alarm didn’t wake me up at the dreaded hour of four in the morning for once. Not even the sunlight of morning bothered me like it normally did. I was too content, comfortable and warm. Too warm, actually.

I opened one eye, and shut it. Then I opened it again, and shut it again. Where am I? Oh, yes, the guest room in Lucinda’s house. I opened my eye, this time a little more alert than before and noticed straight away that I was no longer on the edge of the bed where I had fallen asleep. I was actually right in the centre. What the fuck is pressing into my back?

I was wide awake now, and completely mindful of Jaxon’s body wrapped around me. Holy shit, we were spooning, and not just that, but I had a leg between both of his. Fuck, did I initiate this too sometime in the night?

His arm was wrapped firmly around my waist, securely fitting my back against his upper body. The heat radiating out of his naked body had been the source of my comfort all night long. But even I couldn’t deny it wasn’t just the warmth that comforted me. It was the feel of him so perfectly fitted behind me; like we were two pieces to a puzzle. I sighed, contentedly. I missed this. Oh, God, did I miss this!

Closing my eyes, I relaxed my body and dozed for a little while longer, basking in the feel of perfection and happiness that I knew would be short lasting. He would wake up soon, and what would stern, Mr Glare make of our position? I decided to wait and find out.

It wasn’t long after I heard a wakeful inhale, and felt the stretching of his legs. His chin, which was at the top of my head, moved back and forth, and then he sighed. His hold around my waist loosened for a short moment, and then tightened even more than before, bringing me even closer into him. His head moved and I felt a breath sweep across my ear. Was he checking if I was awake? I kept my eyes shut just in case.

His arm loosened entirely now and his hand roamed beneath my sweater and rested gently onto my stomach. He traced circles around my belly button, and the sensitive, ticklish sensations had me flinch involuntarily.

“Wake up, Sara,” he whispered. His hand travelled up and rested at my ribs. “Up, Sara.” When I didn’t move, he tickled me.

I recoiled and opened my eyes, immediately grabbing at his hand. “What are you doing?” I snapped in irritation.

“You wouldn’t wake up.”

“So you tickle me?”

He chuckled.

“That was evil, Jaxon Barlow.” I tried removing his hand, but he refused to budge and kept it resting against my ribcage. “Tickle me again and I’ll kill you.”

“You’ll kill me?”

“Yeah, you’re not the only one with creepy wrestler people who do your bidding.”

“And what’s your creepy wrestler man’s name?”

“My creepy wrestler man is actually not a wrestler, but has dreadlocks, and is not a man, but a woman, and her name’s Lexi.”

“No fucking way. You still talk to that chick?”

“I live with that chick.”

“Huh.”

I turned my head to glimpse at him, and was pleasantly surprised at what I saw. He had a soft expression this morning. There was no glare or anger. It was just… Jaxon.