Page 67 of The Jaded Notes

I sense his gaze on me, watching the way someone might watch the edge of a blade, waiting to see if it cuts.

Is he as nervous as I am?

The buildup to this moment takes over, and I pray I don’t disappoint him by coming off as some scared little girl. He needs to see me as a woman—one who wants to do so many exquisitely naughty things to him.

“Are you planning on running again?” His voice slices through my thoughts.

“No, just…taking it in.” I creep into the space, tracing the edge of a low-slung cognac leather armchair with my hand.

The surface is worn in a way that says it’s used often by someone who only pretends to relax. The leather is warm beneath my touch, faintly scented with cedar and something darker—like expensive bourbon poured over all the secrets Jax seems to keep.

I peer at him, anchoring myself with his presence. “Is this where you bring all your women?”

His steps are slow but inevitable. His contemplation of my question drags until it stretches like it’s about to snap.

“No.” His declaration lands with a gravity that doesn’t need embellishment. “I’ve never brought a woman here.”

My heart stutters at the edges. Whoa, I didn’t expect that.

Just add it to the list of surprising things I learn about him every time we’re alone. His mystery engulfs me and makes me want to uncover every part of him.

He stops before me, the heat of his body pulling at mine without a single touch exchanged. My stomach tightens. He closes the distance until my breath syncs with his.

His hand lifts, gliding near but not quite on the curve of my hip, lingering with the kind of precision that makes me think I imagined it. The air between us thickens, weighted more by the absence of contact than the potential of it.

And then he pulls it away.

Gone. Like a decision he retracted, leaving my ache left unanswered.

The restraint is deliberate—a language I don’t yet know how to speak. I want to understand his world and how I’m supposed to be with him, but I admit, it’s more complicated than I thought it would be.

“Why me?” I swallow, the words catching in my throat. “Why bring me here?”

He doesn’t blink and doesn’t falter. But the heaviness in hisstare betrays something else. Something human buried beneath all that iron discipline.

When he finally speaks, his voice hits low against my chest like smoke curling up from a bonfire into the dark sky.

He steps closer. “Because I’ve never wanted anyone to ruin me before.”

His admission floats between us like incense, slow-burning and sacrilegious.

I’ve never wanted anyone to ruin me before.

Does he really think I’d do that to him?

The energy around us vibrates, like he’s risking letting me close enough to destroy the version of himself he spent years perfecting. I step forward, the hem of my dress brushing my thighs.

My voice is barely above a whisper. “If we’re going to do this… If you wantme, then I need something from you.”

His brow lifts a fraction, but he doesn’t speak.

“This first time together, I need it softer.” My throat tightens, but I force the words out before I lose my nerve. “I want to explore your way with you…through the power and the submission, but I’ve been hurt before. I’ve been used by someone I thought loved me. And if you shatter me the way he did, I won’t come back from it.”

It’s true. I’ve thought about Callum a lot lately just so I can move on. What I’ve come to realize is he kept me around because I was a safe choice. I was like a well-worn T-shirt, and he used me for his comfort.

Understanding that is more painful than losing him because at the end of the day, I wonder if he ever loved me. At least not in the way that counts, because there was always someone lurking in the background. Namely Zara. I try not to blame him for that, though.

I turn my attention back to Jax. His expression shifts as he studies me with what seems to be compassion.