7. Jaxcen

Chapter seven

Jaxcen

“ Y es.” My murmur is quiet, and it takes me a hot second to comprehend what I just did.

A gasp rushes past my lips as my eyes go round in horror, and I slap my hand over my mouth.

What is happening right now?

I’m standing here, in this utterly divine suite, which is annoying to say the least, that this man has such good taste, and I’ve been staring at him undressing.

My cheeks are on fire, yet my gaze drops back to his bare chest, and oh my God, he does one of those peck flexes like he’s wagging his nipples at me.

I cover my eyes.

“Stop. No.” I rush out, trying to cover up my huge fuck up.

His deep raspy chuckle meets my ears, clearly finding my embarrassment hilarious.

“Are you sure? You do look kind of hungry.” His tone teasing, I spin on my heel, giving him my back.

What the hell is happening right now? I should punch him. Or knee him in the balls, yet all I do is stay rooted on the spot, for some reason not wanting to put any distance between us.

A knock on the main door of the suite makes me jump, and I hear Devon’s zipper behind me as he obviously does up his fly. A second later Devon strides past me, the tanned inked skin of his back rippling as he moves. I can’t seem to take my eyes off him, finally able to see the intricate design that adorns his skin covering most of his back and down his arms .

The urge to follow him and trace my fingers over his tattoos is almost overwhelming, yet I somehow manage to keep my feet planted on the spot as he moves to open the door, revealing the little old lady he calls Mabel, that I met in the kitchen before.

“Here you go, Mr Marx.” She smiles warmly at him, and I have to wonder why she doesn’t seem scared of him. “My apologies for taking so long.”

I’m not sure why she’s apologising. She didn’t take long at all, but I get the feeling she may do that a lot as Devon waves her apology off, which makes me think she has past trauma.

“No apology needed, Mabel. Thank you very much.” Devon offers her a warm smile back, and I frown.

Strange. I didn’t peg him to be civil.

Mabel places the tray of food down on the round dining table, and her eyes meet mine, shooting me another warm smile before disappearing back out the door.

The smell hits me then. Something like bacon? Perhaps chicken?

I’m not sure, but it floats across the room, engulfing me. Teasing me. Urging me.

I want to follow the smell. Go over to it, lift the lid off the tray and devour what’s underneath. But I don’t. I remain standing rooted in the same spot I’ve been for a few minutes now, watching as Devon moves to the table.

“Come and have some food.” He gestures for me to join him, before lifting the lid of the tray to reveal heaven.

A large serving plate is filled with small toasted sandwich triangles.

Oh my god, are they BLTs?

My mouth waters.

“No, no, thanks. I’m not hungry.” I lie, scared I’m about to drool and give myself away.

His dark brows hitch as he shoots me a ‘really’ look.

“Come and have some food, Jaxcen. It will make you feel better. ”

I shake my head. “Thank you, anyway, but I ate earlier today.”

He frowns. “Don’t you mean yesterday? It’s already Wednesday.”

“I wouldn’t know. You took my phone, and I don’t wear a watch.” I deadpan, and his lip quirks up.

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those women that only eat meals at a certain time of day and the meals you do eat are basically rabbit food.”

My cheeks flush.

Dammit.

How does he know?

“Jesus Christ,” he mutters. “It astounds me that women do this to themselves. You are basically starving yourself. All for what? To look slimmer for a fucking guy that won’t touch you?”

I gasp at the insinuation, but he’s not finished yet.

“You know he’s not a real man if he doesn’t appreciate a woman’s curves. It makes him nothing but an arsehole.” He holds his finger up as I part my lips to retort, halting my words. “And before you say it, yes, I know I’m also an arsehole, but I’m not that sort of arsehole.”

“No, you’re just the sort of arsehole that kidnaps women.”

He nods, and shrugs at the same time. “Yes. Exactly.”

I roll my eyes. “That wasn’t a compliment.”

He chuckles, flashing those white teeth before picking something off the plate and tossing it in his mouth.

“Miss Summers.” He starts as he chews the food. “My cook has prepared the most delicious BLT sandwiches for us. I think it would be extremely rude for you not to eat at least one.”

Dammit.

He’s right.

I nibble on my lip as I consider the best way to accept defeat, but as he picks some more food off the plate, and the aroma of it teases me, my shoulders slump .

“You’re right, that would be rude.” I agree, and move in his direction.

As I pass him, his hand snatches my heels from my grip, a gasp flying from me as I reach for them.

“Give them back.”

“You don’t need them in here.” He shakes his head, moving towards the entry door. “Calm down. I’m just going to put them by the door.”

Calm down? He just took my Tony’s.

Does he have no mercy?

One look at my expression has him snickering, and he points to me.

“You still have your bag, love. Now come and sit down. Have a sandwich and the hot chocolate. It will make you feel better.” He gestures to the seat he pulls out, before taking the one next to it.

Reluctantly, I join him, my gaze fixed on the BLT.

Bacon.

I love bacon.

I shouldn’t eat it, because when I do, I only want more, but oh how I love it. I could eat it for breakfast, lunch and dinner, and even find a way to work it into a snack and it still wouldn’t be enough.

Fight the temptation, Jaxcen. Gluttony is a sin.

“Are you trying to count how many calories are in one triangle, little mouse?” Devon teases, drawing my attention.

“No.”

He grunts. “Then stop staring at it and eat it.”

But I can’t. If I start, I may not stop.

Maybe I can pick the lettuce and tomato out of it and just eat that.

“Jaxcen, if you don’t eat that fucking sandwich right now, I’m going to shove it down your throat myself.”

He’s being a little dramatic, but it does the trick, because the next second I reach for one of the triangles before bringing it to my lips.

I nibble at it first, terrified of overindulging .

Gluttony can be seen, Jaxcen, worn on the outside of your body, showing the world you have no self control for what you put in your mouth.

Eddie’s voice fills my head, his disapproving tone like a spy on my shoulder, always there keeping me in line.

I can feel Devon’s eyes on me, and I just know he’s about to yell at me again, so I take a bigger bite this time. The flavours burst on my tongue, and my eyes widen as I realise I’m not going to be able to hold back.

This is it.

I’m stepping over the line of temptation and indulging.

With the next bite, I can’t help it. I moan. The explosion of flavour too much for me to deny, and my lids fall shut as I chew, wanting nothing more than to engorge.

As I eat, all my fears and worries seem to fall away. My only concern is with my next bite and how good it feels to be ingesting something that I know isn’t good for me.

Devon remains silent as we eat. I try not to look at him too much, but each time I do, his dark gaze is on my lips, watching me as he eats his own food. I have no idea what he’s thinking. I can’t tell by his expression if he is angry or turned on. Maybe both.

When we are done, Devon packs up the tray and sets it outside the door like you would in a hotel. I guess Mabel or someone else will remove it.

It takes me a moment to realise that he’s flicking off the lights in the suite, and the only light remaining is the glow that flows out of his bedroom.

“Time for bed, little mouse,” he says, and I stiffen in my chair.

“Where is my bed?” I ask, glancing around to find another door. There isn’t one. Not off the living room.

There’s only one bed. And a couch, which I’m happy to sleep on if I must.

“Your bed is right here.” He gestures over his shoulder to his bed, and I frown.

“And where will you be sleeping?” I shift to peer back into his bedroom at the large four poster bed, the timber thick posts a similar sandy brown as the floors.

“In my bed.” He deadpans as my eyes widen, panic rushing through me.

“But I thought you said you weren’t going to—”

“I’m not going to fucking rape you!” he booms, clearly sick of having to reassure me, but what else am I supposed to think?

“But…”

“But nothing! There is one bed big enough for the two of us,” he mutters, clearly trying to calm himself down as he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Now, I’m tired and I want to go to sleep so let’s stop fucking around.”

I can’t sleep in the same bed as him. That would be yet another sin against my name. Eddie would never forgive me, not that I know if I care about that, but for some reason I feel like I’m doing something wrong if I accept this and sleep in the same bed as another man.

“That’s okay,” I rush out. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

Suddenly, his dark eyes glare as he storms towards me, and a squeak leaves me as I try to sink back further in the chair, squeezing my eyes shut as I brace for impact.

The impact I was waiting for never comes, but another embarrassing squeak leaves me as I find myself getting hoisted up off the chair and over his shoulder like he did earlier at the church.

This time, when my fists pummel his back, they meet the searing heat of his skin.

“Stop! Put me down!”

“You know your punches are like a form of foreplay for me, don’t you? They’re making my cock hard.”

As his words register, I quickly cease my assault which only makes him chuckle, before I find my world the right way up as he flips me, my back bouncing off his mattress as he looms over me .

“We are sleeping in the same bed, little mouse. I’m too fucking tired to argue with you about this. I will get you a shirt to sleep in, and you can use the bathroom to shower and wash off the mud you decided to play in earlier.” He gestures his thumb over his shoulder where I notice an open bathroom door. “And then, little mouse, you will get into this fucking bed and go to sleep. Am I making myself clear?”

I open my mouth to protest, but the savage glare he shoots me has me snapping my lips shut.

Your life is in his hands, Jaxcen. Stop infuriating the devil.

Before I know what’s happening, he flips me face down and settles his weight over me, my heart thundering in my chest as I brace for what’s about to come.

This is it, he’s going to rape me.

“The only word I want to hear from you right now, is yes.” He rasps against my ear, his breath hot, sending an unsolicited shudder down my spine.

I nod into the mattress, “Y-yes.”

“Atta girl,” he rasps before his weight shifts off me and the palm of his hand slaps my arse.

I squeal, quickly rolling over to watch his retreating back as he enters another door, which looks like a walk-in wardrobe. For a brief moment I glance through the open bedroom door, to the living room, and wonder how easy it would be for me to run.

I’ve already tried numerous times tonight to get away from this man, all unsuccessful, and I get the feeling now that I’m surrounded by his loyal followers that the possibility of me escaping is unattainable.

As I shift to sit up on the bed, Devon re-enters with a white t-shirt in his hand. Tossing it at me, it slaps into my face and he chuckles as I glare with a huff, watching him move into the bathroom.

At the sink, he starts splashing water over his face, and I wait patiently on his bed, taking in my filthy feet and hands.

Ew. My hands. I didn’t even wash them before I ate .

Shame fills me at how revolting that is. I never forget to wash my hands before I eat. I’ve probably just ingested so many germs I’ll wake up sick tomorrow.

Shaking off thoughts of my impending illness, my gaze flicks back to the hard plains of muscle that ripple over Devon’s back as he bends and starts brushing his teeth.

Outside of Cloud 9, I’ve never seen a man like this so nearly naked. Aside from my dad, of course, which doesn’t count.

I’ve never actually seen Eddie’s body under his clothes. He’s never taken his shirt off in front of me. Even when we’ve been swimming, he wears a rashi, covering up his torso. And now, I realise that perhaps, I really don’t know the man I’m meant to marry at all.

Maybe that’s why I’m not feeling a connection to him like I should be. Maybe it’s more than just the fact that he won’t let me touch him, or that he won’t let me see him without clothes on. But perhaps the fact that he won’t let me get to know him, always telling me we will have the rest of our lives for that.

He hasn’t always been like that, of course. As kids, we were best friends. And even when I was shipped off to the ‘facility’ for those three horrible years, he was still the one person I could count on, aside from my sister.

We wrote to each other back and forth, although my return letters took some time, since I wasn’t always in a state to write, but for the most part, things between Eddie and me were good. At least I thought they were, but something happened when we turned fourteen.

He told me I was going to be his wife one day, and like every silly little girl’s dream, I was excited for the day I’d have my white wedding, and white picket fence. I wanted nothing more than to marry him. To be his wife and have that dream together.

But now that I think about it, I’m really not sure our dreams align.

Sure, he wants a wife, and I’ve always thought of myself as his girlfriend since that day when we were fourteen, but aside from hanging out together and going places, we haven’t done anything remotely like a boyfriend and girlfriend would.

I remember when I tried to hold his hand once. How he quickly pulled his away and told me it was inappropriate.

Devon’s words from earlier come back to me making me wonder if perhaps he knows my husband-to-be better than I do.

Is Eddie just an arsehole? Does he do this just to control me?

There’s a possibility that perhaps that’s probably it, because he likes to control everything I do. If I do something that isn’t considered acceptable by the Church, he makes it his mission to make sure I know. Sometimes, he takes me to confession himself if he has to.

But what if it’s more than that? What if he isn’t just an arsehole? What if he is really gay and I’m his beard as Devon suggested? What if he’s repulsed when he looks at me because he would rather kiss a man than a woman?

Tears well in my eyes at that thought. Not because I’m sad that he might not like me that way, but because he would rather lie to me and condemn me to a loveless life with no passion, rather than admit his truth.

And then, of course, there’s the other reason Devon suggested.

Maybe Eddie just sees me as a suitable person to be his wife and the mother of his children, and that apart from the intimacy that’s required to conceive children, he may not ever want to be sexual with me.

Is he still a virgin?

Has he paid for sex?

What does he like to do with other women that he could never fathom doing with me?

“What has you so deep in thought?”

I startle at the deep gravel of Devon’s voice, my eyes going wide with worry that he has a super power of reading one’s mind .

As he stands in the doorway of his bathroom, one arm propped up on the door frame, watching me, I can’t stop myself from perusing his taut body. The way the pants have shifted low on his hips. The defined ridges of his abs and the way the vee disappears below the fabric.

I’ve seen it on men before, of course, at Cloud 9, but I haven’t seen it on this man, and I wonder for a minute if perhaps we’ve crossed paths at that club given he seems to know so much about it.

“Just stuff,” I respond vaguely to his question which makes him frown.

“You still think I’m going to harm you, little mouse?”

“No.” I shake my head, but then I shrug, “Yes… I’m not sure.” I babble, confused by my own indecision.

“Tell me what you were really thinking about just now. Because I get the feeling it wasn’t about me.”

“This isn’t confession.” I point out and he smirks.

“True. But I can take you to the old church here. There’s an old confession booth inside. Not as nice as the one Father Peters has at St Catherine’s, and also not bulletproof, but I can take you there.” His smirk turns sinister. “You can go inside. Close the door. Drop to your knees. And pray. And then, little mouse, you can confess your sins.”

“Do you have a priest here?” I ask, not sure if knowing there’s a man of the cloth here will make me feel better or not.

“I’m the closest thing to God there is here. So when you confess on your knees it will be to me.”

My cheeks flush, and heat pools between my legs as an ache I’ve been trying to ward off all damn night when this man’s around, makes itself known once again.

Why does the thought of me going into a confession booth with him listening on the other side sound so… tempting?

“Ah, I see you like that idea, don’t you?”

“No,” I blurt and he chuckles.

“Yeah, you do.” He tilts his head to study me. “What have I told you about lying to me? Do I have to remind you again that lying is a sin?”

“Do I have to remind you again that murder is a sin? Thou shalt not murder.”

He chuckles at my retort before responding.

“Lying lips are an abomination to the Lord, but those who act faithfully are his delight.”

My eyebrows shoot up at his recitement of Proverbs 12:22.

“So you’re a religious man too?”

“Yes, little mouse, why else would I have been in a church?”

“Oh, I don't know. Given the fact there were bulletproof doors, perhaps you were hiding from someone.”

He snickers. “Would you believe I was there seeking absolution? Just as you were.”

“For what?” I ask, lifting a single brow, and he sighs.

“It’s too late to talk about this right now. I want to go to bed.” He juts his thumb over his shoulder. “Get in there and have a shower.”

I glare at his demand even though I slide off the bed to do as he ordered.

Moving to the doorway of the bathroom, he only steps aside so I can pass, still looming in the doorway.

Frowning, I wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t, a wicked smirk tugging at his lips once again as he crosses his arms over his chest and leans against the door frame.

“Well, aren’t you going to leave?” I snap.

“I was kind of hoping you’d give me a little bit of a show.”

My mouth drops open in shock. “Why on earth would I do that? You need to leave. Hurry up and close the door.”

He chuckles. “So you go to Cloud 9. Probably walk around in your underwear, yet you blush at the thought of me watching you undress.”

“It’s inappropriate. You’re not my fiancé.”

“That argument is getting old, little mouse. And we’ve already established that you’re all mine. For now, anyway. ”

“And I thought we established that you weren’t going to rape me.”

A chill fills the air as he growls. “Stop saying that fucking word. I will never do that!”

“Could have fooled me by the way you’re lurking in the doorway waiting for me to take my clothes off.”

I thought the growl a second ago was scary, but the sound that comes from him now is purely animalistic before he storms forward, backing me up against the counter.

“Don’t pretend like you don’t want to get naked for me, little mouse. I can see it in your eyes, how they travel over my skin with nothing but lust in them.” He wraps his hand around my neck, giving a gentle squeeze. “I can see it in your cheeks, how they flare to life from your arousal. And I can hear it in your tone, how it turns a little husky just like it did before, when you admitted to wanting to taste my cock.”

Releasing my neck, his strong hand grips my jaw, tilting my head back as his eyes bore into mine, his lips hovering so close that I can feel the heat of his breath on my chin.

“I’m going to have fun with you, little mouse. A little Christmas treat to keep me occupied over the break.”

I whimper as he shifts, worried he’s about to hurt me in some way, but then his thumb glides over my lips, and I watch as his gaze tracks the movement like he finds my lips to be the most delectable looking dessert he’s ever come across.

Heat ignites under my skin from the top of my head to the tip of my toes, a fiery ache coursing through me with longing that I know is going to get me into trouble.

“We’re going to have to start working on your sins, little mouse. Especially the one where you keep lying.”

His thumb pushes past my lips then, sinking into the heat of my mouth and I’m helpless not to react. Helpless not to do the one thing I know I shouldn’t.

I suck on it.

And he growls.

“Atta girl, little mouse. Now take off your clothes.”