7. – Miya
Confusion tasted like moldy champagne on my tongue.
My head hurt, and my stomach turned. I sat up, blinking around. I saw the tacky beach painting on the wall and recognized that I was in Portland. I lay back down, trying to figure out why I was in bed wearing a red dress next. Pieces of the morning came back to me.
Oak-soaked whiskey scents and dark unfathomable eyes.
“Jaxon?” I sat back up and looked around. My TV was on, and his suit jacket was thrown over the back of the desk chair in the room. My dress had ridden up in sleep. The lights outside shone onto my bare thighs. The space beside me in bed was warm.
Horror settled in my bones. We’d slept together?
The worst part was that I didn’t even remember it.
Which was a good indicator that I was in over my head already. Why did I think I could keep up with that man?
I heard a sound, and then the front door opened. Jaxon saw me sitting up and sighed in relief. He had a bag in his hand with the name of the gas station across the street on the front.
“Headache?” he guessed, tossing me a bottle of ibuprofen. He set down a small plastic jug of orange juice beside it.
I let my head hit the pillow again, too nauseated to move. Or talk. I pried open the aspirin, squinting at it, and then awkwardly downed some tablets with the orange juice poised on my cheek at an angle.
“What time is it?” I croaked, cringing. I sounded like, well, like I’d drank a bottle and a half of champagne and passed out. The clock on the desk had been wrong since I’d gotten the room.
He sat on the foot of the bed, his untucked gray dress shirt wrinkled, and the sleeves rolled up to his forearms. “Midnight.”
I groaned. “No way.”
“Way.”
I heard a smile in his voice. I didn’t look to see for sure, but then again, with Jaxon I never had to see anything for it to be real.
“So much for dinner,” I hinted.
He grunted in agreement. “I’m starving.”
I glanced over at the bags. “Is that what’s in there? Snacks?”
“No, actually.” He pulled the bag onto his lap and started taking out items. “It’s an apology.” He produced a single pink rose wrapped in plastic. He handed it to me.
I took it cautiously. My bare feet touched his lower back, and I drug my toes across his belt.
He took a deep breath and then pulled out a disposable camera. “I realized when you left, that I didn’t have any pictures of you. Except for the ones we took together when we went to the Oregon coast. Do you remember?”
I swallowed hard and bobbed my head.
“I wanted some pictures. Just in case.” He palmed the camera and then set it down on the bed beside us both.
The next item he pulled out was a box of condoms. I felt my brows draw down at the sight of them and then my blood got hot.
“What are those for?”
“I had my vasectomy reversed. The doctors don’t know if it will take or not. But we’d need this.”
“Just in case,” I heard myself whisper.
He bought a camera to remember me by. But he also bought condoms to have me now? A pink rose for me to hold in the moment? Was he as torn as me? Afraid the other would leave, unsure whether we wanted that, which answered all our questions. We didn’t want the other to leave.
I heard my loud swallow. I wasn’t nauseated anymore. My heart was begging me on her knees with her palms pressed together to let her out for Jaxon again. She missed him. Needed him. Wanted his strong arms around her and his rough parts to touch my soft ones. But she ignored her scars and it was my job to prevent her from getting anymore.
The last item he took out was a pair of cheap toy handcuffs. He tore them from the package and then held them in each of his palms. He ripped them apart.
“I’m not a Dominant anymore, Miya. I haven’t touched another woman since you left. Haven’t looked at one. I’ve been seeing a sexual and cognitive therapist once a week for two years. I live alone. I work eight hours a day. I’ve been holding my breath for two years, baby. I just want to breathe again.”
The sadness in his voice was a punch to the gut. It was so deep, so real. I could feel it. The idea that he’d hurt as badly as me—because I had hurt, deep and true—was so profound, I found myself truly picking apart his words for what they were.
Pleas.
“I still love you. I still want you. I still need you. But I know this isn’t about me breathing. This is about the fact that you’re still holding your breath. I’m here. Like I’ve been since you left. And I’ll suffocate forever if it means hearing you inhale just one time.”
Tears turned his earnest form into a shimmering mirage. I blinked them away; this was real.
“But I know you’re afraid. Of me. Of feeling what you feel. Or even what you don’t feel.” He took a deep, pained breath, like the idea of me not feeling the same about him anymore killed him. “So as hard as it is to deny my instincts, I’m going to give you space. But just know, I don’t want it. And I don’t need it, Miya.”
His handsome fucking face was killing me right then. I’d never seen him look so open, so vulnerable. He still looked like the Jaxon I left, but he wasn’t the same man at all. I couldn’t breathe. I was elated and regretful. I missed that man, but I wanted to get to know this one.
He still loved me.
He hadn’t been with anyone else.
You had, my heart whispered meanly. You are still. I told my heart to shove it up her innocent ass. I could do what I wanted. He had. It was only fair I explored other options. How would I know what I wanted if I didn’t know what I didn’t want first?
He’d had a vasectomy reversal. The weight of that made it hard to breathe. I sat up, feeling better from my hangover—everything else, not so much—and lost my cool. That was huge. That was saying yes to things that weren’t even mine anymore. Kids. Marriage. Forever. He’d denied me those things. Said they weren’t possible.
And maybe they hadn’t been, until I left, and he realized a few things of his own.
“I’ll go.” He stood up and grabbed his suit jacket, stuffing that disposable camera in his suit pocket. “I wanted to talk to you before I left, and make sure you were safe.”
I didn’t want him to leave. I had so much to say but knew I wouldn’t say it. I’d said everything I ever needed to say time and time again. Now it was his turn to talk.
He bent down to place a kiss to my cheek. And then he left.
Leaving me with a pink rose, a pair of broken hand cuffs, and tears in my eyes.
Though it looked like nothing had changed.
Everything had.
***
The amount of sheer lavender-colored tulle was making me dizzy.
It smelled like fabric and cool air. Every breath I took hurt my nose. I stood in the middle of the dressing room, spinning on my heel as I took it all in. Livie and I were getting fitted. She’d had an addition put onto her wedding dress; any minute she’d appear out of her dressing room and I would have to ohh and ahh.
I hadn’t seen Jaxon since he left my hotel room. He’d left himself behind, though. The presents; the rose was on my nightstand, in an old glass jar from a yogurt I’d gotten from room service. It was still alive. I’d tossed the handcuffs, and then felt bad, getting them out and stuffing them back into my bag. I’d tucked the condoms in my purse. Just in case.
I could still smell him. My stomach dropped and lifted so many times as I thought about him; I was going to puke all over the smooth gray carpet.
“Are you okay?” Livie called out.
I frowned. “Yeah… why?”
“I can hear you breathing hard.”
I froze. “It’s, uh, stuffy in here.”
“It’s freezing, Miya. My nipples are so hard I’m afraid I’m going to tear my dress.”
I smiled at the closed curtain. “They don’t want us sweating on the dresses.”
Fabric shifted, and then she pushed the curtain aside. My mouth fell open. She was beautiful. Creamy white dress, lace, crystals, flowing skirt, tight bodice.
“You’re so beautiful,” I gasped.
She blushed profusely. “You think?”
“I know.” She hypnotized me. We had such similar features, it was hard not to imagine myself in her place. Gorgeous wedding dress, love, and forever stretched out in front of me. The punch of grief that hit me was so strong, I gagged, running over to heave into the crystal crusted garbage can in the corner.
I wanted that life.
But it had never been mine.
“Are you okay?” She rushed over to me as best she could in her dress.
I waved her off. “I’m fine. Must be too much coffee,” I lied. I smiled and wiped my mouth off. I searched through my clutch to find a lone piece of gum.
She studied me, a strange glimmer in her eyes. “Is it Jaxon?”
I blanched, waving her words away with a forced smile. “No, course not. Why?”
She didn’t believe me. I could see it in her eyes. She knew exactly what I was feeling. “Sam told me everything, Miya. Everything. If you need to talk to someone, I’m here, okay, girl? I was where you were two years ago, and I didn’t look nearly as put together as you.” She looked sad for her old self.
I wanted to take her up on her offer. Other than the girls at the bar and the rare text between Jaxon’s sister, Sally, who was hard to talk to considering her ties to her brother, I didn’t have anyone to talk to. “I can’t breathe,” I admitted, tears springing to my eyes.
She brought her arms around me. “It’s hard to breathe around men like Sam and Jaxon. But it’s so much harder to breathe without them, isn’t it, girl?”
I sobbed against her. She was so right it hurt. I clung to her. “I don’t want to mess up your dress.”
She held me tighter. “Let’s go get lunch and talk? I’d love to have a friend who I can talk to about this, too.”
“Thank you.” I pulled away, wiping at my eyes and hating my tears.
She gave me an apologetic face. “Can you try on your bridesmaid dress first? I need to know if it fits or the designer won’t have time to fix it.”
As it turned out, the dress took my breath away. It was the color of fresh cream. Long, tight, and slimming. It brought out the blue in my eyes and the deep brown of my hair. I hadn’t even realized I’d gotten a tan in Vegas until the dress showed me the slight hint of gold on my pale skin.
“These are the shoes.” Livie had changed out of her dress and was back in a pair of skinny jeans, heels, and a dark blue blazer. Her hair was in a bun.
“We could be twins,” I said.
She smiled at me knowingly. I never asked Sam why he had a predisposition for women who looked like me, but judging by the morose look on her face, Livie knew. I didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to go down another dark path.
The heels she handed me were silver, strapped, and tall. I gazed at them worriedly.
“I know they’re high, but they’re perfect for the dress.”
I tried them on. I gained a few inches. There was a slit in the dress down the left side, and it started mid-thigh. With the shoes, I looked good enough to stand beside a bride as beautiful as her.
“What do you think?” She was almost bouncing with excitement.
“I think it’s perfect. For you. For your wedding. For me. It’s everything.” I spun around slowly, catching her huge heartfelt smile of relief.
“My thoughts exactly. Okay, girl. Let’s go get a happy hour treat.”
We ended up across the street at a gastro pub. Summer was settling in Portland. The air was warm, and the bite of winter was gone. I’d worn a pair of black jean capris with a sheer white tank top out to try on dresses; the moment we walked into the bar I was relieved with my choice. The air was thick and muggy with the scent of fried food and beer.
“Can I get you ladies some starters and drinks?” The waiter gave me a smile, which I returned nicely.
He was cute, with cool hair—Instagram hair, as Penn back in Vegas would say—with tattoos down both arms and eyes the color of fresh cut grass. My body didn’t respond, and for all I knew I was staring at my little brother with how empty we felt. Around Jaxon, I couldn’t breathe. He was all I saw. All I smelled. All I thought about. Gosh, I was fucked on a million different levels.
“Why the sad face?” Livie asked after we ordered.
My lips lifted in a self-deprecating smile. “Jaxon.”
Her pursed lips said, I knew it. “Do you regret leaving?”
“No. Yes. I don’t know…”
“I understand why you did. I tried to leave a million times at the same time I craved to stay. Sam is intense in every single way. He spun me around like an artist at the same time he made me hate myself. But I realized, Miya, that I wasn’t hating myself. I was just trying to figure out who I was as my pain choked me. It took a lot on Sam’s part to make me realize how beautiful loving myself was and accepting my new lifestyle was more freeing than controlling. But,” she continued, “I need Sam’s world the way he does. You don’t seem to need or want Jaxon’s world. You just want the man. Not the whips.”
I slapped my hand down on the table top and then gazed at her openly. I told the truth the way I used to. “I still love him.”
She smiled politely. “Well no shit, girl. You can’t turn love off. You can run from it, but it doesn’t go anywhere.”
“But he’s still him. It’s not fair of me to ask him to change his entire world for me.”
“Why not? You changed yours for him, didn’t you?”
“Yes, but—”
“No but. Being in love comes with sacrifices. What do you want from Jaxon. Think about it.”
“I want to be with him without the threat of punishment. I want a normal relationship with him. With boundary pushing sex, but I still want to keep my wits and my power. I want to marry him,” I sobbed. “I want to have babies. I want the family I never had growing up, with the love I never knew, and the comfort I didn’t have.”
She grasped my hands in hers. “Then he must change. And you must stand your ground. It wouldn’t hurt him to change, from what I hear from Sam. You both started the way him and I did. Painfully, rough, and dark. But you don’t have to end there.”
I tried to let her words sink in. She’d been where I was, that much was obvious. Now she was where I wanted to be. I wanted to syphon off her happiness, instead I drank mojito’s and stuffed my mouth with mozzarella sticks.
After lunch, she had to head back to work, and I unwillingly let her go, giving her a huge hug on the curb. “Thank you,” I whispered.
She nodded against me. “Call him.”
I pretended like she hadn’t said that and waved goodbye as my Uber drove away with me inside.
“Where to?” he asked. I hadn’t put in a destination when I ordered him.
I panicked. I didn’t know where I wanted to go. Didn’t he know that?
I looked down at my cell longingly.
Call him.
“Can you give me a second?” I asked.
He nodded, pulling over and putting the car in park.
I had no way of knowing if his number was the same, but something told me it was. His Lexus was the same. Worn and used since the last time I’d been inside. I loved it. The car hadn’t bothered to stay the same, as I tried so hard to be different.
Jaxon picked up on the first ring, before it could even finish. “Miya,” he answered, confusion and longing in his tone. “You’re calling me.”
I smiled, my nerves in my throat. “I just had lunch with Livie. Dress fitting.”
“Ah,” he mumbled. “Detail number six-thousand.”
I laughed. “It’s a really pretty dress. I don’t mind this detail. And Livie’s going to look amazing.”
“I’m sure she will. Describe your dress to me.”
I glanced nervously at the driver, who was tapping away at his cell phone. “Can I do it in person?”
He paused. “You want to see me?”
I closed my eyes at the shock in his tone. “Yes.”
He let out a loud exhale of air. “I’m at the office. I have clients until six.” He sounded so disappointed, it made me feel better.
“Then we’ll see each other at six.”
“That’s a long wait until then,” he grunted.
It was a little after one in the afternoon. Five hours did seem excruciating. How I managed two years suddenly felt insurmountable. Which was extremely terrifying. “We can make it.”
“Speak for yourself.”
My smile shouldn’t be so happy he was desperate to see me. But it was happy. It was downright giddy. “Did you have lunch?”
“No,” he lied.
I heard the lie plain as day, and my smile grew. “We can’t have that. I’ll bring you lunch. Text me the address.”
“Miya?”
“Yeah, Jax?”
“Hurry. I’m fucking starving.” He hung up, leaving me wide-eyed and squirming in the backseat of the Uber.
Gathering my wits, I said, “can you take me to a sandwich place?”
Thirty minutes later, we pulled up to a block of clinics and medical-type buildings on one side downtown. Shops and restaurants coated the other side. I’d assumed he was still teaching at the university, but obviously he wasn’t. I thanked the driver and clutching the food bag, I headed past the main entrance like Jaxon said to in his text. I came up to a suite that read, Jaxon Damon, MD. Substance Abuse Counselor.
My jaw dropped.
I traced the sign. So many things had changed for him, but they weren’t changes that just happened. He’d made them happen. For me.
I opened the doors and stepped into a waiting room. It was empty, and the receptionist pointed for me to keep walking. I came to an office within an office and stopped when I saw a secretary typing away at her computer.
She looked up and smiled genially. “How can I help you?”
“Um.” I held up the sandwich bag, greasy from the fries. “I’m here for Jaxon. Er. Mr. Damon. I brought him lunch.”
She took her hands off the keyboard. “Do you have an appointment?”
She thought I was a patient. Great. “Um, no—”
“She’s a friend, Callie.” We both looked over to see Jaxon hanging out of his office door. His dark eyes found mine. “Come in, Miya.”
“You have an appointment in ten minutes, Mr. Damon,” Callie reminded him.
He quirked a brow at her annoyance. “Yes, Callie.” He nodded me along.
I rushed past her desk and into his office, standing back. He had a desk, that was parts messy, parts sterile. Coffee cups and notebooks scattered the side near his computer, but the side near the chairs where I assumed patients sat, was clear and clean. There was nothing on the wall, but there was a huge plant in the corner I could guarantee he didn’t put there.
“Callie thought it would add some life to my office,” he said, chuckling at me as I appraised that weird plant.
“It doesn’t.”
“That for me?” He stood back, hands in his pockets, expression leery.
His hair was combed so perfectly, I wanted to run my fingers through his slick black locks and muss them up. He hadn’t shaved that morning, and his five-o-clock shadow was dark and tempting on his hard jaw. His deep brown eyes were clear and intense, pinning me in place. He smelled divine, dressed in a cobalt suit and black dress shirt. He was more tempting in that moment then when he was my Intro to Psych professor. I hadn’t had the reminder of what it felt like to have him inside me then.
“You’re an addiction counselor?”
He gave me a small nod, watching me.
I shifted uncomfortably and then handed him the bag. “Yup. For you. Hot roast beef with garlic fries.”
He took the bag. “Thank you for coming.” He set the food down. “We only have ten minutes together. I don’t want to waste them not talking.” He took a step toward me. “You have a tan.”
I let out a shaky breath. “You smell good.”
He gave me a tiny smile. “New cologne. Callie says it’s too heavy.”
“Callie’s wrong. What’s it called?”
“Embed.”
My pussy was so wet, I made a mental note to pack extra panties when I was around this damn man. Or he could just take them off. I wanted him to take them off. It had been so long since I felt taken and claimed. Since I’d had an orgasm that rearranged my soul. Since that deep gnawing ache inside of me had been sated.
I was staring down my ultimate temptation. And I knew he was going to pull me under. It was only a matter of time. I should leave.
I took a step closer to him.
“Interesting name.”
He licked his bottom lip. “If you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m going to fuck you unapologetically hard on my desk, Miya.”
Oh shit. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to cry and beg at the same time. “I have a boyfriend,” I stated.
“That wasn’t part of the plan. You leaving was about you. Not so you could go out and fuck other men.” Anger sizzled in his eyes and made his body even larger.
I flirted with danger. “Man.”
“Is he special to you?”
I hated the worried pain in his eyes. “I don’t know how to answer that.”
“Am I special to you?” he asked instead, proving a point.
I proved it. “You’re the only person in my life that’s special to me, Jaxon.”
It was the wrong thing to say. He closed his eyes and breathed deep. “You should go.” His cock grew in his pants. Hard, long, and tempting. “Or I’m tearing your clothes off and something tells me you’re not ready for that.”
“I’m not,” I agreed, meaning it. I wasn’t ready to have him inside me again. Not to mention I was still dating Axel. I stepped around him—I didn’t want to leave—and tore open his food. “Sit down and eat. I had them put extra horseradish sauce on it. It cost me an extra fifty-cents. You’d better appreciate it.”
He brushed past me, his hand skating along my waist, before he sat down at his desk. “Break up with him.”
“Why?” I set his food out. “He’s sweet to me.”
“You don’t want sweet. Sweet’s boring. You want safe. I get that. But you don’t want boring, baby.”
“I could. It’s been two years. You may not know me anymore.”
He stared at his food. “I know you. I knew the you who didn’t have it in her to be anyone else. And I know the you that you are now because I’ve kissed your soul, Miya. It bares my mark and it’s mine.” He grabbed his sandwich and bit into it. “Good roast beef.”
“Jaxon. Don’t tell me what to do again.” I sat down in a free chair and glared at him. “It pisses me off.”
“I like pissing you off.”
“Really? I had no idea,” I snorted, rolling my eyes. “Respect me.”
“I do,” he grumbled, cramming fries into his mouth. I wondered if he was eating so ravenously was because he was hungry for something else.
Something only I could give him.
“What kind of woman would I be breaking up with a man who I live with because you asked me to?”
He paused, his sandwich half-way to his mouth. Fury dilated his pupils. “You live together?”
I lost my cool at the look on his face. He looked like the same man I’d given my virginity to. Dark, frightening, and so damn sexy my clit tingled. I wanted his tongue on me, eating me as roughly as he ate his food. “Yes. He was my roommate first. And we work together. It just sort of happened.”
“You. Live. Together?” he repeated, his deep voice turning each word into a curse.
“Jax—”
He dropped his food and sat back, looking at me like he didn’t even know me anymore. Which had been the point, I guessed. If he didn’t know me, he couldn’t hurt me. But that wasn’t true. Because he was right. He’d touched my soul, kissed it, and broke it. He knew me in a way no other human being ever would again.
“Do you love him?”
“I don’t think—”
“Do you love him!” he roared, making me flinch. “Damn it, Miya!” He shot up to his feet and paced the small space of his office. “How much longer do I have to deal with this?” he begged, his voice breaking. “It’s been two years, for shits sake.”
I glared up at him. “Don’t put me in a corner.”
“You put yourself in that corner.”
There was a knock on his door, and Callie poked her head in. “Mrs. Junction is here.”
He nodded. “Right. Give me two minutes.”
Callie shot me a glare. “Of course, Mr. Damon.”
“I have to get back to work.” He wouldn’t look at me.
Which pissed me off. I got up. “I think we need to have that talk. Tonight. No matter what. Where should we do it?”
“My place?” He sat back down and smoothed his shirt down, in counselor mode in seconds. Cool, brisk, and polite.
I bit my lip. Going to his place seemed treacherous. “Same place?”
“Mhm.”
“At six-thirty?” I asked.
“Six-thirty’s good.”
I hated leaving things between us like this. But what could I do? It was his frustration. His unease. Before I left, I looked back to see him dumping the roast beef remainders in the trash. “Jaxon?”
He looked up, expression defeated. “What?”
“I’m proud of you for becoming an addiction counselor. It’s the perfect job for you.”
He shot me a surprised and sad smile. “Thanks, baby.”
My defenses dropped. “I don’t love him,” I told him softly, leaving just in time to catch the deep relief flare in his eyes.
I only love you, you gorgeous frightening idiot.