Current Day

“Mommy, take Porg. He can keep you company.” Tristan holds out his stuffed Star Wars animal for me.

“Thank you, sweetie.” I take the toy and hug it close it my chest as I zip up his coat. Five years old and he’s already worried about me. “I’ll keep this close by me until I see you on Sunday, okay?”

“About that—” Carl shifts toward the front door, his voice grating across my nerves. “If I have to cut my weekend short, you won’t mind, will you?”

I bristle. Him finagling out of his turn with the kids isn’t anything surprising. He’s constantly cutting their visit short. Usually it’s not a biggie, I can deal, but I may actually be busy this time.

“I’ll be gone all day Saturday. And possibly into the night.”

“What do you mean gone?”

I ignore his question and push through the door, carrying Melanie. After the kids are secured in their car seats, I drop the bomb. “You may as well get used to having them the entire time during your visitation. I start my new job on Monday, and I’ll be working the weekends you have the kids.”

It’s a sweet deal, really. Mr. Kessler will work around my kids’ schedule. The only child I need a sitter for is Melanie, and Ms. Neely has already agreed to watch her.

I shut the car door and revel in the little tic his jaw muscle does. It’s not that I enjoy getting Carl riled up, but he can take care of his kids for two days. It won’t hurt him to play the role of a parent for fuck’s sake.

“I shell out enough money each month; you shouldn’t have to work.”

“No, Carl. You don’t. I’m falling behind on the bills.” Un-fucking-believable. He’s still trying to control me even after our divorce. “Besides, you don’t get a say. Remember this is what you wanted, honey.” I pour as much venom into the sentiment as possible but force a smile on my face. I’m sure I look every bit as crazed as I feel, but the last thing I want is the kids to witness us fighting all the time. Trenna is having a hard enough time understanding, and I don’t want to make things worse for her.

“You asked for the divorce.”

“You don’t think you’re at fault?” I ask through clenched teeth and a tight smile. “You set the plan in motion when you dipped your wick in someone else. Don’t for one second blame any of this on me.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He glances toward the car and shakes his head. “Forget it.”

He’s heavy footed as he stalks to the driver’s door, but I ignore him and turn to wave at the kids. The fact he’ll be forced to spend the entire weekend with them is the real reason he’s upset. He’s not fooling me. Twins and a toddler are a handful, but they’re our handful, and he needs to learn to deal.

Back inside the house, I pour myself a glass of Chardonnay and start placing the ingredients out for the biskvitena. I never thought I’d turn into the person who drinks alone, but since I don’t drink when it’s just me and the kids, I’d never drink if I wait for company. Ever since Lacey moved away, my social life took a nosedive.

I take a sip and then measure two cups of mascarpone cheese along with the whipping cream and powdered sugar. Baking has always calmed my nerves. Mix in the alcohol, and I’m as relaxed as a sun worshipper on a lazy Saturday afternoon watching the waves roll in. One glass later, the mixture is whipped into a fluffy cream, and my blood pressure evens out. That is, until my cell pings with a text notification. I swear to God, if that’s Carl, I’m going to lose my shit. But it’s not. And the smile that crosses my face is unavoidable.

I stare at his words. Is it working? I don’t really know. I’m a little tipsy and a whole lot lonely—a dangerous combination when talking to a guy I always have a hard time staying away from.

The phone rings.

“Yes.”

“As much as I would love to crash your plans, I do want to surprise Nana.”

Placing his grandma in front of his own desires is rather noble. I’d say I’m surprised, but he always did place others before his own needs. Why I never saw that back then, I’ll never know.

“The cream is whipped, and I’m working on the cookie part next.”

“You sure you don’t need help? All the whipping going on sounds rather interesting.”

His voice warms my insides, and the yes is on my tongue, but I can’t go down that road. Not again.

“I think tonight is a solo job.” I take a sip of wine, shaking my head at what I just implied.

His protested groan sends chills through me, making me want to cave. I try hard not to react. “All right. I’ll be there tomorrow at ten to pick you up.”

“I don’t understand why you need me to go with you.” I should back out. That’d be the smart thing to do. But if I did, I’d be opening the door for Carl to take advantage of me. I can’t lie and say I’m not home when it comes to my kids. And the asshole needs to be a father.

“I think Nana would enjoy meeting the person behind making the dessert. She’d enjoy meeting you.”

My eyebrows narrow at his suggestion, and I wonder if he’s placing more meaning behind the encounter than I intend. I shake off my uneasiness and eye the ingredients sprawled across my counter.

“Well, there won’t be a dessert to bring if I don’t get busy. The cookies take time to bake and cool before I can layer the dessert.”

“Mmm, fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.”

“Hey, Jocelyn…”

“Yeah?”

“Think of me tonight when you’re in bed with your solo performance. Lord knows, I’ll be thinking about you.”

He disconnects the call before I can answer. Thoughts of our first time having sex weighs heavily on my mind. It definitely left one hell of a lasting impression.

JOCELYN

December, Ten Years Prior

Studying with a boyfriend is damn near impossible. Especially when all that goes through my mind is having his body next to me. But he’s not. He’s five feet away, sitting at his desk on a Friday night, working on calculus.

When he mentioned studying in his dorm, I thought it was code for sex. I couldn’t be more wrong. Two hours later, the only thing being touched is the graphing calculator. Lucky calculator.

Beyond the point of boredom, I flip to my stomach. The futon, in the laid-out position, has plenty of space, but I scoot to the top edge to be nearer Jax. I wiggle my shirt underneath just enough for the V-cut to spill open and reveal the tip of my black lace bra. Yes, I’ve resorted to pimping my girls for attention. “I can’t wait for these finals to be over with.”

“You and me both.” Jax lifts his head from the cradle of his hand and turns to face me. When his gaze dips to my chest, a hint of desire flickers to life, and I think my seduction attempt works. But then he shuts down and buries his head back in the book. “We don’t have long to go.”

I bite back a sigh. Ever since Thanksgiving break, Jax hasn’t quite been himself. It’s hard to pinpoint why because he’s been attentive to my needs and still greets me with a warm kiss. But his behavior seems off, not as flirtatious. It’s like we regressed to the awkward first dating stage. Having no alone time hasn’t helped. Then with the added pressure of finals, it’s understandable why he’s acting differently.

Leafing through the pages of my book is useless. I can’t concentrate. His woody scent surrounds me—on the blanket I’m lying upon, on the pillow beneath my head. It’s consuming and further messes with my mind. I sneak a peek at him sitting in his chair. The short sleeves stretch across his large biceps, and when he flexes, oh my God. I want them wrapped around me, not propping up his head. Maybe I’m pushing too hard. Like he feels pressured or something. My expectations are high for his performance, but that makes no sense. What guy gets anxious about sex? Hell, his tongue’s performance before break leaves no doubt about his abilities. Jax’s confidence competes with the best of them. It has to be the pressure of finals.

Another half hour ticks by before Jax stirs. I pull my eyes away from my book and meet his gaze head-on. His stare is intense. Troubled almost.

“What?” I ask.

“I really like spending time with you.”

I laugh, but his serious expression sobers me fast. “That’s good since we’ve been spending the entire semester together.”

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t even smile, which is totally out of character for him. In the few months of being with him, the one thing that’s been constant is his warm personality. I knit my eyebrows together as I study him.

“Did something happen over break?”

“No, why?” His answer is fast. Too fast.

“I don’t know. You seem a little off.”

“It’s this calculus. It’s kicking my ass. I have to maintain my GPA to keep eligible. That’s all.”

“Oh, you never expressed concern over grades before.” I swivel my feet until they hang off the edge of the futon. “Are you in trouble?”

“I’m okay, but I do need to nail this final.”

“If it’s easier for you, I can leave.” I can’t speak for him, but I’m not getting much accomplished.

He places his pencil down and closes his book. My heart begins to race in anticipation when he swivels the chair to face me, and his legs stretch before him. The light gray athletic pants stretch taut across his pelvis, highlighting his bulge. Oh, sweet Jesus, the bulge that outlines his huge cock. The one I had felt before break. The one I fantasized about in my bedroom back home.

My entire insides alight with fire and spark with need. Maybe it’s from all the fantasies over break. Or from the built-up anticipation of him telling me he’ll take care of my problem. I don’t know, but right now, with the way he’s staring at me, I want nothing more than to feel his cock. Since he won’t seem to make a move, I’ll take it any way I can.

I lift off the futon and close the short distance between us. Lust fills his sharp eyes, and they lock on me, watching my every move. When I drop to my knees in front of him, his mouth falls open.

“You don’t have to do that.” His hands cup around my face, and I offer a lopsided grin. His words may say no, but the burning in his eyes screams a different tune.

I run my palm along his hardened length and fight off the shiver threatening to convulse through me. I lower my voice. “You have no idea how much I thought of you during break.”

“Damn, Dixie.” He wraps a lock of my hair around his finger and places it behind my ear as a pained expression crosses his face. “I spent all break thinking about you.”

Before emotions get too heavy, I tug his waistband lower and free his cock. I hold back the “oh, my.” He’s every bit as big and perfect as I pictured. More so, even. I wrap my fingers around the thick shaft and run my hand along his length for a couple long strokes. His sharp intake of breath releases in a garbled moan as he leans back in the chair, surrendering to the moment.

I don’t waste time. I close my lips around the tip and ease farther down, jerking him off with my mouth. His fingers dig into my hair and give a slight pull. I’m not sure whether it’s his touch, his trying to stay in control, or the enjoyment of making him feel good, but I love doing this. With Devin, I never did. I waggle my tongue and flick along the inside of his tip before taking as much of him as I can. He’s too huge for me to take all of him, so I fill the gap by wrapping my fingers around the base. I reach up with my free hand and cup his balls. They squeeze tightly in the palm of my hand as if prompting me to massage them. I oblige.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to come.”

No way am I stopping. I crave his release, the saltiness on my tongue. When he realizes my intentions, he thrusts a few more times in my mouth before letting go, and I swallow his release. His pants come sharp and quick as he eyes me with a look I’ve never seen. A click of the door handle breaks the moment. My eyes widen as panic sets in, and decoding his earlier expression goes to the wayside.

I scramble off my knees and scoot over to the futon while Jax quickly pulls his pants up.

Zach walks inside, takes one look at me, and then smiles goofily at Jax. I want to die of mortification when I take in Jax’s appearance. His waistband rides too high on his chest, unknowingly mimicking Urkel.

“Looks like someone got dressed in a hurry.”

“Didn’t expect to see you tonight.” Jax stands to fix his pants as I want to crawl underneath the futon and hide.

“Something came up.” Zach’s hands shake as he grabs his duffle bag and shoves some clothes in. “I have to run home, but I’ll be back in the morning for practice.”

“Okay, I’ll cover in case you’re late.”

Zach nods. “Later.”

“Is he okay?” I ask when the door shuts behind him.

Jax frowns. “I don’t know. I think something must’ve happened with his parents. They’re messed up from what I gather. The only thing I’ve gotten out of him is they changed after his sister died.”

“His sister died?”

“Yeah, a twin actually. Zoe.”

Oh, no wonder he didn’t want to call me Zoe when we first met. “That’s so sad.”

“I know he comes across a little strong sometimes, but he bears a lot of their responsibilities.”

“Guess you never truly know a person.” I stare at the door for a moment before turning back to Jax. His flushed face, my rumpled hair, his pants still not adjusted right—Zach has to know what I did. His smile all but confirmed it. Heat warms my face as I rub the top of my knee.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed.” Jax moves to sit beside me and places his hand on top of mine; my motion stills. “Believe me, Zach has done far more.”

“I don’t know what I hate more—him walking in on us or getting interrupted.”

His eyes shift to a more predatory look, and that cute dimple I like makes an appearance. “We can pick up where we left off.”

His hand on my knee slides farther up my thigh. As he leans forward, he folds his other hand at the nape of my neck and pulls me toward him until his warm lips touch mine. What starts slow ends in a frenzied act of desperation with our hands moving, grabbing, touching all over each other’s body. It’s as if the weeks of suppressed sexual tension release at once.

In a rush, I lift my top over my head and shimmy out of my pants while he strips. The sight of me in nothing but my lace bra and underwear causes him to pause, and the soft curse that flies from his mouth makes me feel wanted. Sexy.

As he scoots me back across the futon mattress, his mouth targets my cleavage. The feel of his lips against my skin, the small flick of his tongue against the thin fabric, hardens my nipple and sends me into a euphoric-like state. I arch my back, handing my body over like a sacrificial lamb. I’m so beyond ready. All my expectations, all my anticipation, comes down to now. To this moment.

His hands work quickly to unhook the clasp and drag the material off. With all barriers gone, he cups my breast while sucking the hardened peak into his mouth. My body writhing underneath his touch, I toss back my head and groan when he slips a finger inside my opening. “Jax, I need you.”

“Are you sure? We don’t have to go farther.”

“Yes, God, yes. I’m going to die if you don’t take me.”

His soft chuckles vibrate through me as he pumps his finger a few more times before withdrawing. My body convulses in protest, missing the feel of him. I remind myself something better will soon fill the void. The rip of the foil packet quickens my pulse, and a beat later, he’s between my legs, hovering above me.

He lowers his lips to mine, and this kiss is different. It’s deep, desperate, almost like a plea. With his tip positioned at my entrance, he hesitates and breaks the kiss. I look up at him, and his pensive expression holds me hostage. My heart beats wildly against my ribcage, his thoughts a constant wonder.

His fingertips swipe the loose strands of hair from my forehead. With a slight shake of his head, he whispers, “I don’t deserve you,” and then he pushes himself inside. My walls clamp around his intrusion, and he stills, letting my body adjust. We stare at each other, locked in each other’s gaze, both of us speechless. Once I’m ready, he starts moving his hips. Slowly. Teasingly. He withdraws to the edge and then rams back in me. It’s a cross between torment and gratification, keeping me right on the cusp of wanting more.

After a few moments of this blissful affliction, I’m begging. “Please, Jax.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“More. I need more of you.” What am I saying? I’ve never been this vocal in bed. Then again, I’ve never been with someone like Jax.

He increases his pace, each forward thrust burying farther. My muscles coil tighter as pressure continues to build.

I cry out, lost in the feeling.

“Wrap your legs around my back,” he orders.

I obey, and wow, what a difference the slight angle change makes. It’s deeper, more filling. I dig my nails into his back as he rocks into me. Where did he learn how to do this? Strike that thought. I don’t want to know.

“You feel good. So Goddamn good.”

I want to tell him he feels just as good, but the sounds coming from me are incoherent. He weaves his fingers through my hair as he shifts his body. I gasp as he hits a spot, the spot, inside that sends pleasurable sparks throughout my body. I come, hard. So hard that I don’t realize I leave marks on his back. I scream out his name as each pulsing jolt rocks through me. He pumps a few more times, hard and fast, as he works through his own climax.

Spent, he collapses beside me. In between pants, he asks, “How was that? List -worthy?”

Still unable to formulate a coherent sentence, I manage to say, “Mind…blown.”

He chuckles and draws me into a hug. “Plenty more to come, Dixie.”

With his arms wrapped around me, contentedness should outweigh any other emotion, but his somber mood from earlier seems to have lifted and landed on me. I just had the best sex ever, but I can’t shake loose this disconcertment.

About twenty minutes later, I’m back to blissful peace. But unlike earlier, he takes his time, and I have a feeling I’ll never be the same.