“No way,” I whistle, glancing at my stomach. “You’re going to have fun on daddy’s weekends.”
I park my car on the large drive, watching as gates I didn’t even realise were there close behind me.
The porch light is on, and I can’t help but gawp at the vast house that towers above me. I’m about to knock when the door swings open, and Jax greets me.
He’s wearing soft grey pants and nothing on top.
“I was just going to call you,” he says, stepping back to allow me to walk in. “I was worried.”
Inside it’s breathtaking.
Stone floors, a spiral staircase and white washed walls. A canvas of Imogen beams down at me from the centre of the wall, and I can’t help but smile.
“Beautiful,” I murmur, as Jax stands beside me, looking up at the image.
“She had such a great time that day. She loves being in front of the camera.”
“Is she asleep?” I ask, tilting my head too quickly, meeting his eyes.
“Yes,” he says, holding my gaze. “Do you want a drink?”
I shake my head, my tummy still warm from the mug of chocolate.
“I’m okay, thanks.”
I’m fucking nervous. He half smiles, before crossing his arms over his chest. I’m trying not to stare, really I am.
“Do you want to talk, or watch tv…” his words hang in the air between us, and I bite my lip.
“Can you not do that? It’s fucking distracting,” Jax says, his eyes locked on my mouth.
“Jax, I don’t even know why I’m here,” I groan, a small laugh escaping my lips. “It’s asking for trouble.”
It’s a statement, not a question, but he answers it anyway.
“If it helps, I’m trying to resist this as much as you are, but I’m struggling.”
He moves closer to me, and I look up at him, his turquoise orbs searching mine.
“It has to be okay between us,” I whisper, and he nods, his hand caressing my stomach again.
“I know. I’ve already got one child from a broken relationship, I know what you mean, Jolie.”
His voice is gruff, and my breath hitches in my throat, as I walk closer to him. He looks at me in surprise, as I stroke his face.
“Can we just watch television together?” I ask hoarsely.
His eyes flicker with confusion, but he shrugs.
“I’m tired though, so can we watch it in my room?”
“If that’s your way of getting me into bed, Jax Cohen—”
“Nah,” he smirks, his eyes dragging over my body. “I know better ways to get you into bed.”
I gasp at his audacity, as he laughs, a deep, booming sound that echoes around the spacious entrance.
“My beds fucking massive. You could starfish all night and not touch me.”
But I want to.
“Do you have big pillows?” I ask, following him up the stairs, my eyes widening as the hallway opens up before us.
He stops, turning to put his finger on my lips, allowing it to drag down to my jaw which he tips up.
“I have big everything, Jolie.”
I scoff nervously. “Hmm, I’m saying nothing.”
“I’m happy to prove it,” he shrugs, turning to walk to the door at the far end of the hallway.
“Already done,” I mutter to myself, as he smirks.
Please say he didn’t hear that.
“This is my room,” Jax says, holding the door open so I could step in.
He isn’t kidding about the bed.
It’s absurd. It’s got eight pillows in total, stacked in twos beside one another. The thin white sheet is pulled taut, and a grey silk blanket covers it. The windows dominate the room, floor to ceiling and taking up at least two walls.
“Don’t you have curtains?” I whisper, and he shakes his head.
“No. I try to wake up when the sun rises, unless it’s winter, and I sleep all day.”
The floor is varnished wood, and it’s clear it’s original from the marks and patterns in the wood. Jax presses a button on a remote, and a tv emerges from the foot of the bed, and I let out another gasp.
“Shit!” I laugh, as he taps the bed beside him. I’m aware that even though he is sitting up, there’s no fat on his stomach at all.
Why is he so perfect?
“What’s your genre?” He asks, flicking through Netflix.
At last, something I’m familiar with.
“I like romantic comedy,” I grin, and he nods.
“Yeah me too.”
“Liar!” I laugh, and he looks at me strangely.
“I do! They’re heartwarming.”
“What’s your favourite then?” I shoot back, resting my head on the pillows behind me. Immediately I relax, and tug the blanket up around me after I kick my shoes off. My feet ache with the release, and I lift them towards me, massaging them.
Being pregnant comes with all kinds of crap, and swollen ankles is one of them.
“When Harry Met Sally,” he answers immediately, his eyes falling to my feet. “Need a little massage?”
Fuck no, he’s not touching my—oh my GOD.
His fingers stroke the sole of my foot, his thumb gripping the skin as he rubs gently.
“Okay, that’s good,” I moan, sinking back onto the bed. He moves my feet onto his lap, and I move my pillow so I’m more comfortable.
“Just rest, Jolie.”
It’s easy for him to say. I’m feeling like a beached whale, whilst he looks like a bloody Adonis.
“Did you do this for Larah?” I ask, as his hands move skilfully around my ankle, releasing pressure expertly.
“No, because she wasn’t with me when she was as far on as you are,” he sighs, and I regret asking him. As though he senses my unease, his gaze drifts over to me, and his eyes fall on my stomach. “I’m fine to talk about her. She’s my best friend now.”
He releases my foot slowly, and crawls over so his head is just above my stomach.
“Can I talk to the baby?”
He can burn cities to the ground looking like that as far as I was concerned.
Pushing my top up, he rests his ear on my stomach, and my hands twitch beside me, itching to run through his hair.
“Hey, little one,” he whispers, and I can’t help but laugh as his voice rumbles on my stomach. He looks up at me and I inhale sharply at his devastating good looks, and he apologises. “Sorry, didn’t mean to tickle you.”
He kisses my stomach then, and I throw my head back, trying to ignore the heat between my legs.
“How are you, beautiful?” He’s saying, dotting kisses over my tiny bump. “Giving Mummy sickness and swollen ankles already, causing all kinds of trouble, hmm?”
He looks up at me again, and my breathing deepens, as my hand moves to stroke his face.
“You must get that from her,” he smirks, dropping another kiss just above my tummy button.
My core is moist already, and I curse myself for not being able to allow a father a moment with his unborn without getting horny.
But then he drops another kiss, this time a little higher, just near my ribs. I moan softly, but keep my eyes closed so I can’t see the look on his face. He must think I’m insatiable.
“So beautiful,” he murmurs, and then his lips are gone, leaving my stomach chilly without his touch. I open my eyes to find him gazing at me, his lips inches away from mine. “You are, you know. So fucking beautiful.”
I can’t speak, but I can’t ignore the way he makes me feel.
“I need to just do this,” he sighs, his hand slipping beneath my neck as I react, my fingers dragging his face towards me, smashing my lips against his as he opens his mouth in surprise.
I pull away at his uncertainty, but he stops me, holding me close with one arm, the other keeping his body hovering over mine.
“Your pillow was slipping,” he mumbles against me, and my face burns with humiliation. “But I like your move better,” he growls, tugging me towards him.
His lips are as soft as the pillows behind me, his breath still minty and delicious as I allow his mouth to explore mine. Jax twists us around easily so I’m on top, and he sits up so my legs can wrap around him.
“Comfortable?” He asks, and I nod against him, unable to stop kissing him.
I’m grinding against him, and he groans, his fingers caressing my back as we find our rhythm, our hands on each other like we’ve just discovered the other was our oxygen.
Of course, my fingers are all over his body, and I move my mouth down to his neck, open mouthed kisses leading to sucking, biting and moaning as he removes my clothes. I’ve never known anyone so skilled at taking clothes off.
I’m straddling him again, and I can feel his hardness throbbing against me as I continue to move my crotch against it, the woozy feeling of lust clouding my vision.
“God your mouth,” I whisper, as he sucks my nipple, biting it slightly as he squeezes my thighs. His hands slip to my ass, and he helps me move against him harder, and I know I’m going to cum.
“Jax,” I cry out, biting down on his shoulder as I ride out my orgasm, his hands gripping my hips as I do.
Still stunned, I look down at Jax to see him staring back at me, his fingers on my chin as he pulls me back to him.
“Your turn,” I whisper.