Chapter 18 - Jack

I wake up with Sonya’s warmth pressed against me, and my first thought is that this can’t be real. My room is dim, with only a sliver of morning light seeping through the blinds, casting faint lines across the floor. Her soft breathing is the only sound, steady and rhythmic, like a lullaby I didn’t know I needed. But it’s the way she fits perfectly against me, like she’s always belonged here, that gets me. It’s new, and it’s tearing through every defense I’ve built around myself.

And dammit, I’m hard. Harder than I’ve ever been, waking up to the feel of her body molded against mine. I can feel every curve, every inch of her, and I can’t help the way my breath hitches. I close my eyes, trying to will it away, but it’s no use. The softness of her hair against my chest, the way her leg is draped over mine—every part of her is doing things to me that I’ve spent far too long denying.

I’ve never woken up like this before. Not just the morning wood—that’s nothing new—but the vulnerability. The feeling of being exposed, like she could take one look at me and see every fear and desire I’ve buried deep. I never let anyone into my space, my bed, my life. Not like this. The few times I’ve let someone in, it’s been fast, easy, out the door before I’ve even had a chance to think. But with Sonya… hell, with her, I never wanted it to be fast. I wanted to savor every damn second.

Sonya stirs, and I freeze. Her eyes flutter open, still bleary with sleep, and for a split second, she looks confused. Then her gaze lands on me, and something shifts—recognition, maybe, or something else. Her hand moves up, brushing against my chest, and I swear to God, my heart stops.

“Morning,” she murmurs. Her voice is husky from sleep, and it sends a shiver down my spine. Her eyes drop to where our bodies are tangled together, and I see the moment she realizes exactly what kind of state I’m in. Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t pull away. If anything, she seems to settle in closer.

“Morning,” I manage to reply, though my voice sounds rough even to my own ears. I can’t tear my eyes away from her, can’t stop thinking about how easy it would be to close the distance and kiss her, to finally give in to the pull that’s been there since the day she walked into my life. But there’s this fear gnawing at me, this feeling like I’m standing on the edge of something I can’t come back from if I take that leap.

She shifts slightly, her leg brushing against mine, and it takes everything I have not to groan out loud. “Jack…” She’s looking at me like she’s searching for something, and I can’t stand the idea of letting her down.

“I’ve never woken up with anyone in my bed before,” I blurt out. It’s the truth, but it sounds absurd, and I see the flicker of surprise in her eyes. “Not like this. Not… not with someone I actually wanted to be here in the morning.”

Her eyebrows knit together, and she tilts her head slightly, studying me like she’s trying to figure me out. “What do you mean?”

I exhale slowly, running a hand through my hair as I try to find the right words. “I mean, I never bring anyone here. Not home. Not to my bed. When I… when I hook up, it’s always somewhere else, and it’s always fast. No strings, no mornings, no… no vulnerability.”

She’s quiet for a moment, her gaze locked on mine, and I feel like she’s seeing right through me. Like she’s peeling back every layer I’ve built up, every defense I’ve used to keep people out. But instead of pulling away, she reaches up, her hand brushing against my cheek, and the touch is so gentle it almost breaks me.

“But I’m different,” she whispers, like she’s testing the words on her tongue, and I nod before I can second-guess it.

“You’re different,” I confirm. “Sonya, I’ve wanted you for a while now. And not just… not just in that way. I wanted you here. In my bed, in my house, with Fiona, and not just as her nanny. I wanted you in my life, and it scares the hell out of me because I’ve never felt that way about anyone.”

She blinks, her eyes wide and full of something I can’t quite name. For a moment, I think she’s going to pull back, that she’s going to tell me I’ve read this all wrong, but then her thumb grazes my bottom lip, and it sends a jolt of electricity straight through me.

“I’ve wanted you, too,” she admits, her voice barely more than a whisper. “I’ve wanted you for so long, Jack. And I’m scared, too, but I can’t keep pretending that I don’t feel this.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, and before I can second-guess it, I’m leaning in, my hand sliding up to cup the back of her neck as I pull her closer. Our lips meet, and it’s like every wall I’ve built comes crashing down all at once. She responds instantly, her hands tangling in my hair as she presses herself against me. The kiss is desperate and needy, and I can feel the hunger in it, the desire we’ve both been fighting for so long.

I break the kiss, moving to her jawline, tracing a path down her neck with my lips. She shudders, her grip tightening in my hair, and the feeling goes straight to my already aching cock. I roll her onto her back, settling between her legs, and I can feel the heat radiating from her. I reach for her shirt, pulling it up and over her head, and I drink in the sight of her. My hands move up her bare skin, caressing her curves. She arches her back, and I can feel her nipples harden under my touch.

I dip my head, taking one of her breasts in my mouth, and she lets out a moan as her fingers dig into my shoulders. The sound only spurs me on, and I suck and lick, savoring every whimper that escapes her lips. She pushes her hips against mine, grinding against my cock, and the friction is almost too much.

Her breath comes in short gasps as I trail kisses down her stomach, pausing to nip at her hip bones, and she squirms. I can feel her anticipation, and the way her body responds to my touch is the biggest fucking turn-on. I push her pants down, leaving her exposed and beautiful, and she tugs at my shirt, her nails scraping across my back as she pulls me closer.

The feel of her skin against mine is intoxicating, and I lose myself in the moment, kissing and licking and tasting every inch of her. She writhes under me, her hands gripping my hair, and her cries are muffled by the pillow.

I work my way down, taking my time, savoring every moment. She trembles beneath me, her thighs quivering as I run my tongue along the sensitive flesh. When I finally reach her clit, she bucks her hips, and I wrap my arms around her thighs, holding her in place as I explore her most intimate parts.

She’s wet and hot and responsive, and the sounds she makes are driving me crazy. I tease and lick and suck, and her fingers tighten in my hair, tugging hard enough to hurt. I don’t care. I’m lost in her, lost in the taste and feel and scent of her, and all I want is to hear her fall apart.

My cock is rock-hard and straining against my pants, but I ignore it, focused only on her. My hands slide up, cupping her breasts, and the feeling of her nipples hardening against my palms again is enough to make me groan. She arches her back, grinding against my face, and it’s all the encouragement I need.

I press two fingers into her, curling them in just the right way, and the strangled cry she lets out has me pumping harder. My tongue never slows, licking and sucking at her clit, and her whole body starts to shake.

“Fuck, Jack, don’t stop, don’t stop, please,” she begs, her voice raw and broken.

I have no intention of stopping. I keep going, driving her closer and closer to the edge, and when she comes, it’s like the world falls away.

“Yes,” she hisses, her fingers digging into the back of my head as her hips buck and writhe.

“Fuuuuck,” I growl, the sound muffled by her cunt.

It’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen or heard, and when she finally collapses back onto the bed, spent and sated, I have to take a minute to collect myself. My dick is aching, and the taste of her is still on my lips. I’m a goddamn mess, and when she pulls me towards her, pressing a slow, languid kiss to my mouth, I almost lose it.

Before I can blink, her fingers are on my fly, deftly undoing the buttons like she’s terrified I’ll change my mind again. When her hand closes around my cock, it’s my turn to groan. She strokes me, her movements sure and confident, and I’m pretty sure I’m going to explode if I don’t get inside her soon.

“Sonya,” I say, my voice thick with need. “Are you—”

“Don’t you dare ask me if I’m sure,” she states. “I’m sure, Jack. I’m fucking sure.”

“Thank God,” I mutter, and I crush my mouth to hers, kissing her like she’s the air I need to breathe.

Her hand is still on my cock, stroking and teasing, and when she pulls me down, lining me up with her entrance, I push into her, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever felt before. She’s tight and warm and wet, and she fits around me like she was made for me. She whimpers, her nails digging into my shoulder blades, and I’m lost in the sensation.

I thrust, burying myself in her, and she cries out, her hips meeting mine as I start to move. We fall into a rhythm, our bodies moving together like we’ve done this a thousand times. It’s like every other woman was just a placeholder, a poor imitation of what I really needed. Sonya.

“Oh, fuck, Jack,” she moans, and the sound is enough to drive me crazy.

I speed up, the pressure building inside me, and her legs wrap around my waist, urging me deeper. Her breath comes in sharp gasps, and she meets me thrust for thrust, her eyes dark with desire. She’s a goddess, a force of nature, and I’m powerless to resist her.

We’re both on the edge, teetering on the brink of release, and when she comes again, her whole body shaking and quivering, I shift, changing the angle. She cries out, her body trembling beneath me. Her pussy clenches around my cock, and the pressure is overwhelming. My vision goes white, and I lose myself in her, giving her everything I have.

“Yes,” she hisses, her fingers gripping the sheets as she falls apart beneath me.

My release comes, and it’s like the world falls away. Time stops, and the only thing that matters is Sonya and the way she’s wrapped around me like she’s never going to let go.

When I finally come back to reality, I’m gasping for breath, my body slick with sweat. She’s panting, her cheeks flushed, and I can’t resist the urge to lean in and kiss her.

“Jesus, that was amazing,” she murmurs, her eyes closed, a small smile playing at her lips.

I grin, rolling off of her and flopping down onto the mattress. “Yeah, it was.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, and then she giggles.

“What?” I ask, glancing over at her.

“I can’t believe we finally did that.”

“Me neither.”

“I’m glad we did, though,” she says, turning to look at me.

“So am I.”

Fiona’s soft fussing breaks the hazy quiet of the room, cutting through the tangle of limbs and heavy breaths like a splash of cold water. Sonya’s eyes flicker open, and for a moment, I see the way her gaze softens like she’s soaking in the reality of us, of this. But the sound of Fiona’s whimpering grows louder, and reality sets in. I give Sonya a small smile and press a lingering kiss to her forehead before I slide out of bed.

“I’ll get her,” I whisper, brushing a thumb over her cheek. She nods, her eyes still half-lidded with the remnants of sleep and something else. Something warm and easy that makes my chest feel too tight.

I get dressed and pad into the hallway where Fiona spent the night in her playpen, and when she sees me, her little face lights up. She’s sitting up with her blanket clutched in her tiny fist and her bottom lip sticking out like she’s gearing up for a full-on meltdown. But the moment she sees me, she kicks her legs excitedly, her cries dying down to little hiccups.

“There’s my girl,” I murmur, scooping her up into my arms. Fiona nuzzles against my neck, her fingers grabbing onto my shirt, and I feel that familiar rush of warmth that only she and Sonya seem to bring out of me.

Sonya appears beside us. Her hair is a mess, and her eyes are still a little dreamy, and I realize this is exactly where I want to be. Not just right now, but always.

Sonya reaches out, gently brushing Fiona’s curls away from her forehead. “Morning, sweet pea,” she coos. Fiona gurgles in response, her little hand reaching out to grab a fistful of Sonya’s shirt, tugging her closer.

Sonya laughs, a light, airy sound that fills the room, and suddenly, everything feels so damn easy. Like the three of us were meant to be here, together, in this tiny room with its faded wallpaper and the soft glow of morning light spilling through the curtains. We’re not perfect, and I know we’ve got a hell of a lot to figure out, but right now, it feels like none of that matters.

We spend the rest of the day wrapped up in the simplicity of being together. No work, no distractions, just the three of us lounging around the house like it’s the most natural thing in the world. We play with Fiona, Sonya reading her favorite picture books with that exaggerated tone that has Fiona giggling and kicking her legs. We make a mess in the kitchen trying to cook breakfast, Sonya’s laughter echoing off the walls when I spill flour all over myself like a damn amateur.

It’s easy, falling into this rhythm with Sonya like we’ve been doing it for years instead of just a few hours. And with every shared glance, every soft smile, I feel that pull between us getting stronger. It’s like there’s an unspoken promise hanging in the air, a promise of more.

By the time evening rolls around, we’re sprawled out on the couch, Fiona asleep on Sonya’s chest, her tiny fingers still clutching onto Sonya like she’s afraid to let go. I watch them for a moment, the way Sonya absently strokes Fiona’s back, her gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the TV that’s softly buzzing in the background. She looks content, like she’s exactly where she’s supposed to be, and for the first time in a long time, I feel it, too.

But just as I’m about to reach out, to pull them both closer, Fiona stirs, her little face scrunching up as she lets out a sleepy whine. Sonya soothes her, her voice a gentle hum, and I can’t help but think about how right this all feels—how right we feel. But there’s this lingering question gnawing at the back of my mind, this nagging uncertainty that I can’t quite shake. I’ve never let myself want something like this, never let myself believe I could have it.

And as I watch Sonya shift Fiona in her arms, I realize I don’t just want this. I need it. I need them. And I don’t know how to say it, don’t know how to make Sonya see that she’s not just some temporary fix for this broken mess of a life I’ve been living. She’s the missing piece, the one thing I didn’t know I was looking for until she walked into my life.

But the words stick in my throat, heavy and unspoken, and as Sonya looks up, her eyes meeting mine, I’m hit with the sudden, gut-wrenching fear that maybe she doesn’t feel the same. That maybe this perfect, fleeting moment isn’t as solid as I want it to be.

And that thought terrifies me more than anything I’ve ever faced.