Page 74 of Sweet Wicked Vows
Mal shrugged. “It’s called honesty, dear sister. We all knew how much of a damp cloth Laurence was. Over time, he would have smothered Evie’s light.”
“It doesn’t matter now,” Samantha said. “Because you have found someone who makes you happy, and someone who truly loves and respects you. That is all that matters.”
My dinner turned sour and twisted violently in my gut—if only she was right.
After eating and drinking our weight in food, we played a couple rounds of Scrabble—which turned out to be pointless with Jaxon. The man was scoring triple word points left and right, leading to the usual cheating allegations from Mal.
Once everyone gave up trying to outscore the French dictionary sitting beside me, his hand on my leg stroking dangerously close to the hem of my skirt during the other’s turns, we all retired for the night.
I stood under the heavy pressure of the shower, replaying the conversation at dinner in my head like a broken record.
Was I truly that blind not to realize how much everyonedisliked Laurence?
No one ever voiced their concerns to my face.
Over the past couple months, I realized the Laurence I fell in love with was not the same Laurence toward the end. The charming young man, who made every gray cloud in my life disappear with a simple smile, vanished over our years together.
There were flickers of doubt as time went on, but when Dad got sick, my mind was too focused on him to give Laurence a second thought.
He was already pulling away, but I was too preoccupied to notice. Maybe if I hadn’t been so focused on looking after Dad and Flynn, I wouldn’t have been so blindsided by him ending things.
Thinking about it used to bring me to my knees in tears. But staring at my reflection in the mirror, I felt weightless for the first time in a long time.
I believed I had Jaxon to thank for that.
Back in the bedroom, Jaxon sat fully dressed on the edge of the bed.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hog the bathroom.”
His eyes traveled the length of me. The intensity, the fire burning in his eyes—it was as if he were trying to see right through my towel. “I was waiting for you to get into bed for the night, that way, I don’t have to worry about you standing on my head.”
We both stared at the makeshift bed of blankets and pillows. The first night, Jaxon slept on the floor without question, and I let him. I guess I could say it was because we weren’t truly in a relationship, and sharing a bed was too much. But the truth was, I feared what sharing a bed with him might lead to.
We already crossed the line twice more than what we should have.
“You don’t have to sleep on the floor,” I said against my betterjudgment. “I am sure your back and joints must be killing you.”
“Is that your way of calling me old,ma douceur?”
“You are basically an old man compared to me.”
His eyes narrowed. “You realize I am only seven years older than you? I’m thirty-three. That hardly qualifies me for old man status.”
I shrugged. “All I am saying is that sleeping on the floor isn’t doing any wonders for youragingback. You can sleep in the bed. But be warned, if you so much as steal the duvet during the night or snore too loud, you will be straight back on the floor.”
Dimples pinched his cheeks.
It was impossible to get sick seeing them.
By the time I slipped my pajamas on, Jaxon had undressed and was making himself comfortable in bed. My attention was instantly drawn to the lack of a shirt, giving me unlimited access to his toned, tattooed chest.
Sweat broke across the back of my neck. The simple thought of running my hands across his chest, down his abdomen following the patch of hair below his belly button, blossomed a seed of desire between my legs.
Sliding into the bed beside him, every part of me was on fire.
My pulse drummed in my ears. A heavy ache settled in the depths of my stomach as my mind replayed the day in the office, the feel of his fingers pressing into my thighs as his tongue worked me into overdrive.
“I hope dinner wasn’t too much for you.” I tried to refocus my thoughts.