64
All’s Well
that Ends
with Marshmallows
“Please?”
“No.” Jaxon looks at me like I’m from another planet.
I cuddle closer, bat my eyes like a windmill on high. “Pleeeeeeeeease?”
He lifts a brow. “Do you have something in your eye, or should I call the nurse because you’re having a seizure?”
“Ugh. You suck.” I cross my arms over my chest and pretend to pout. But after three days of being cooped up in my bedroom, recuperating, I’m not sure how much of it is actually pretending. And even though I know I won’t be here forever, it’s still awful. “Please, Jaxon? If I have to stare at these walls any longer, I’m going to freak out.”
Jaxon sighs, but I can tell he’s deliberating, so I push my luck. “Can’t we go somewhere? Just for a little while? You can even carry me if I get too tired.” I try the whole eye batting thing again, less panicked bird this time and more femme fatale. Or, at least, that’s what I’m going for.
“Yeah, like I’m going to fall for that,” he says with a snort.
Which, okay. He has a point. I’m not real keen on him carrying me anywhere, especially now that things have calmed down around here. But still, the boredom is real…and getting more real every moment. “Come on, Jaxon. I know you’re just following directions because Marise said I’m supposed to rest for a couple more days, but I’m not planning on joining the Iditarod. I just want to walk around for a few minutes. No big deal.”
He studies my face for a minute and must figure out what I’ve already decided—that I’m going out with or without him—because he nods reluctantly. Then stands up from where we’ve been stretched out on my bed for the last two hours.
“Civil twilight has set in, so I’ll take you outside for a little while,” he says eventually. “But not far from the castle. And you have to promise to tell me as soon as you start to get tired.”
“I will. I swear!” Excitement races through me, and I spring up after him, then kind of wish I hadn’t, considering my everything hurts, especially my recently dislocated shoulder. Now that they’ve set it, it’s a lot better than it was, but it still aches a lot. Not that I’m about to tell Jaxon that—partly because he might change his mind and partly because I know he blames himself for everything that happened with Lia.
Which is ridiculous, but Jaxon is totally the guy who balances the whole world on his shoulders and who takes the responsibility of that seriously, even if he never asked for it. So no way am I going to let him see how sore and battered I still feel. Not when that means giving him something else to beat himself up over.
“So what do you want to do?” I ask in an effort to distract him from the fact that I’m limping more than a little.
He’s watching me with narrowed eyes and an expression that says I’m not fooling him. But he doesn’t say anything else, except, “I’ve got a couple of ideas. Why don’t you get dressed and I’ll run and find a few things? I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
“We can meet downstairs—” I start but break off when he looks at me with both brows lifted. “Oooor we can meet here,” I finish.
“Yeah, let’s do that.” He leans down and drops a kiss on my lips.
It’s meant to be quick, but I can’t help wrapping my good arm around his neck and pressing myself against him as I deepen the kiss.
Jaxon goes still, but there’s a hitch in his breathing that tells me I’ve got him. Seconds later, he slides his hands down to my hips to pull me even closer. And then he scrapes a fang across my lower lip in a move he knows makes every muscle in my body go weak.
My breath catches in my throat as I open for him. As I press even closer. As I give myself up to Jaxon and the explosion of heat and joy and light that he sets off inside me with just a kiss. Just a touch. Just a look.
I don’t know how long we kiss for.
Long enough for my breathing to grow ragged.
Long enough for my knees to tremble with each stroke of his fingers against my hip.
More than long enough for me to reconsider our walk outside now that things inside have gotten so much more interesting.
But eventually Jaxon pulls away with a groan. He drops his forehead against mine, and we just breathe for a while. But then he pulls away, and in a voice gone deep and growly and oh so sexy, he says, “Get dressed. I’ll be back in a few.”
And then, like always, he’s gone between one blink and the next.
It takes me a little longer to recover. A full minute or so passes before my heart rate steadies and my weak knees feel strong enough to support me. Eventually, I get my act together and start getting dressed in the layers upon layers necessary to survive an hour outside in Alaska. My lips tingle the whole time.
Turns out, it’s a good thing I hurried, because Jaxon is back, knocking on my door and letting himself in before I even have my socks on. To be fair, getting dressed takes a lot longer with a dislocated shoulder, but still. Even if I was completely healed, it’d still be impossible for me to compete with Jaxon’s speed.
He’s carrying a backpack, which he drops by the door when he sees me struggling to pull on my socks.
“Here, give them to me,” he says, kneeling down in front of me and gently resting my ankle on his thigh.
And just like that, my breath catches in my throat again. Because if I’ve learned nothing else in the time I’ve been here, it’s that Jaxon Vega kneels for no one. Yet here he is, kneeling in front of me like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
“What?” he asks as he slides the socks over my feet and past my ankles.
I just shake my head because what else is there for me to say? Especially when his fingertips linger on my calf, tracing patterns into my suddenly oversensitive skin.
I must look as flustered as I feel, because he just kind of grins at me as he slides a second sock over the first before doing the same to my other foot.
I shake my head, look away before I end up melting into an actual puddle.
A couple of minutes later, after putting my boots on for me, too, Jaxon stands up and holds a hand out to pull me up.
“Have you decided where we’re going?” I ask as we head for the door.
He picks up the backpack—something I’ve never seen him carry if he’s not going to class—and says, “Yeah.”
I wait for him to elaborate, but this is Jaxon. He almost never shares more than he has to. Then again, as he gives me a wicked grin, I find myself not minding too much. If Jaxon wants to surprise me, who am I to say no? Especially when his surprises are usually so, so good.