Stripped Bare (8 page)

Warmth flows through me as I place my hand in his. He helps me out of the car. I hear voices and cars and buses, and I assume we’re still in the city.

“Let’s sit,” he says, and he pulls us down. “You can open your eyes.”

I blink against the sunlight and glance around. It looks familiar, and then I realize we’re just down the street from that sidewalk café he took me to see last month.

“Don’t turn around,” Jax murmurs. “I need to say something first.”

And then I remember this bench, and the building behind us. It was the piece of real estate Jax inspected the day we met at the café.

“You brought me to see your sky blue building?” I ask with an excited grin.

“Close. I brought you to see
your
sky blue building.”

I gasp and jump to my feet. I turn and look, and there it is. It’s sky blue and cream and as perfect as I imagined it would be.

“Mine?”

Jax is watching me closely. “Yours.”

“I . . . I don’t understand.”

“For your bakery.”

My bakery.

He bought me a building.

For my bakery.

Suddenly, the daily delivery of roses and the fancy restaurants don’t seem so extravagant after all.

She’s speechless.

I have no idea if that’s good.

Or bad.

It’s probably bad, because she hates when I spend money on her.

Her gaze is wide as she looks at the building.

Sky blue and cream.

It’s her dream come true, and I made it happen.

I swallow the bubble of anxiety that’s clenching my throat.

“Sweetheart?”

Tesla turns her head toward me. Her expression is one of complete and utter surprise, which is the perfect reaction, obviously. But there’s something else, and it’s something I never want to see.

Tears.

She’s in tears.

They roll down her cheeks, and I can’t stand it. I pull her into my arms and gently wipe them away.

“I know you’re going to say it’s too much, but it’s not. It’s all you’ve ever wanted, and I want to help you make your dreams a reality. It’s just a building, Tesla. It’s just walls and shelves and a long glass counter.”

“Don’t do that,” she says softly. “Don’t pretend this isn’t the most amazing thing ever.”

I smile, and the knot in my stomach begins to relax. “You think it’s the most amazing thing ever?”

I wrap my arms around her. She lays her head back against my shoulder as we gaze at the building.

“Almost,” she says.

I chuckle and nuzzle her neck. “Oh, I see. There’s something better?”

“Yes.”

She turns in my arms and places her hand against my rapidly beating heart.

“Of all the gifts,
this
one is the best.”

We kiss tenderly. And I’m ecstatic, because I know she’s going to accept it.

She’s accepted me—all of me. I wish I deserved her, but I know I don’t. No man ever could.

“Can we see inside?” she asks, and I hear the delight in the tremble of her voice.

“Of course.”

I fish the keys out of my pocket and place them in her palm.

“It’s the big silver one,” I tell her.

Her excited fingers fumble with the lock, but it finally cooperates, and we walk inside. There really isn’t much to see. I wasn’t kidding when I said it was just walls and shelves.

“We haven’t done much,” I explain as we walk toward the glass counter. “I wanted your input. I didn’t know if you wanted tables or booths or just . . .”

She isn’t listening. She’s just looking around, sliding her hand along the glass countertop. She’s making plans. The wheels are turning, and it makes me smile.

“It’s perfect,” she finally says. Her voice is soft and low and just completely awed.

“Yeah?”

Tesla nods. “Thank you seems so inadequate.”

“Just the fact that you’re accepting it without a fight is all the thanks I need.”

She reaches for my hand and gives it a squeeze.

“I’ve been saving for a down payment on a space. I didn’t have a particular place in mind. I didn’t dare look. I didn’t want to get my hopes up, you know?”

“Is this okay? I mean, did you want something bigger? Maybe something on the other side of town?”

She shakes her head. “No, Jax. This is perfect. Thank you.”

I pull her into my arms again and hug her close.

“I can’t believe you aren’t fighting me on this. I was sure I’d have to give you my speech.”

She giggles. “You prepared a speech?”

“Yeah, just a short one. It was basically just me on my knees, telling you how much I love you.”

She tilts her head, looking into my eyes.

“I love you, too.”

I smooth the hair away from her face before kissing her softly.

“And I love my bakery.”

“I’m so glad, baby.”

Her eyes soften. She loves when I call her that.

“Will you take me home, Jax?”

I can’t deny I’m surprised.

“Home? Don’t you want to look around some more?

Her hand drifts along my chest and down toward my navel. It leaves me breathless. And aching. All I do is ache for her, but I’m trying to be good. I’m trying to take it slow. I’m trying to let her lead.

“I want to come back tomorrow, but right now . . . right now, I want you to take me home with you. I have this overwhelming urge to show you how much I love my bakery . . . and you.”

She takes my hand, and I get my wish.

She leads.

And I follow.

I stare at myself in the full-length mirror in his bathroom. The black negligée leaves nothing to the imagination, and while I’ve danced in far less, I can’t deny that, in this moment, I’ve never felt so naked.

Exposed.

Bare.

He loves me.

I know it.

I feel it.

And I love him.

I’ve wanted this for so long. My attraction to Jax Monroe has called to me on a basic, elemental level. Animalistic and raw.

But now . . .

It’s so much more.

He owns every part of me.

My heart.

My soul.

And tonight, he’ll own my body, and I’ll have nothing left to give. He’ll have it all. Every last piece of me.

It’s amazing how much that doesn’t scare me.

I step out of the master bath and into his bedroom. He’s sitting in a chair, just as I requested. Music streams from his iPod.

And he’s naked.

Just as I requested.

He’s muscular and lean, and I can’t wait to explore every inch of him.

It might just take all night.

And most of tomorrow.

Jax’s fiery eyes meet mine, and then his appreciative gaze travels over me.

Warming me. Heating me. Burning me.

“God, Tesla . . .”

I move closer, letting my hips sway to the music as I make my way over to him. His hands reach for me, and I let him pull me closer.

“Just so there’s no misunderstanding . . .” I say softly. “I was always planning to rock your world tonight. This isn’t about showing my appreciation for my new bakery.”

Jax grins, running his hands beneath my gown and along the curve of my ass.

“You’ve already rocked my world, Tesla. This is just a very, very happy bonus.” He gently trails his finger along the lace. “And I love this. You’re the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen. But it’s got to go.”

“But I wanted to dance for you. Strip for you.”

“As much as I’d love to see you do that, I just . . . I just can’t let you. Not our first time, anyway. Maybe another night. Definitely another night. But for tonight, I don’t want any reminders of our past. Is that okay? Do you understand why?”

I do. I’ve danced and stripped for thousands of men. He needs to feel special, and so do I.

“Yes, I do.”

His voice is a soft plea. “Come to my bed.”

Nodding, I pull him by the hand and turn around. Instantly, his face is buried against my neck, and I’m so thankful the bed is merely inches away. Jax lifts my gown over my head, and I crawl onto his blanket, laying across his bed.

“What about the heels?” I say, wiggling my stiletto in the air. “Do those need to go, too?”

His hungry gaze travels up my leg.

“Those can stay,” he murmurs roughly.

Jax’s hand rubs my calf, up along my knee, and I squirm. I’m a livewire, desperately craving every caress as his fingers inch closer to my thigh. He lays beside me, his eyes taking in every curve. Every blemish.

“Please touch me,” I beg.

And then he does. It’s just a gentle brush of his finger against my entrance, but it’s enough to make me whimper. He does it again, and again, and on the third stroke, he slips slowly inside. Jax’s mouth covers mine, swallowing my moan.

“I’ve dreamed of this.” His voice is rough and raw. “Seeing your skin against my sheets. Your hair against my pillow. Feeling how wet you are. So wet, baby.”

Desperate to touch him, too, I reach between us, and he grunts as I wrap my hand around him.

“Do you want to come this way?” he whispers against my mouth. “With just our hands?”

“No, I want you to come inside me.”

My words make him groan, and he flips over onto his back, pulling me over him, begging me to straddle his hips. His hands caress my breasts . . . pulling, tugging, caressing, and I close my eyes, letting the sensations wash over me. I can feel him beneath me, twitching and hard, and I can’t resist the urge to grind against his lap.

“Tesla . . .”

His hands latch onto my hips as I move against him.

“Condom?”

He reaches toward his nightstand and produces a foil wrapper. I feel his eyes on me as I slide the latex along the length of him.

“I love you, Jax.”

“I love you so much, baby.”

With our eyes completely fixed on one another, I straddle him once again. With his hands guiding me, and my hand guiding him, I slowly lower myself onto him. He groans and arches, and I cry out, because in that one quick thrust, he’s so deep, and it feels so, so good.

He rises, and suddenly, we’re nose-to-nose. His hands slide along my ass, jerking me toward him as I ride him.

I ride him hard.

I’ve never felt so unbridled. So wild. And he loves it. I know he loves it, because the look in his eyes is ravenous. Hungry. Desperate.

And loving.

So loving.

His arms tighten around me as I cry out, my orgasm rocking me to my core. His movements become frantic, and he calls my name, burying his face in my neck as he explodes. We’re shaking and breathless as we cling to each other, but in that moment, a peaceful truth comes crashing over me.

He’s the one.

The One.

That mythical, perfect complement to your soul that all little girls dream about.

Jax Monroe is mine.

“Tesla,” he whispers against my skin. “My Tesla.”

And I am his.

My wife’s long brown ponytail bounces as she talks to her smiling customers. She's poetry in motion . . . graceful and gorgeous as she moves from one end of the glass counter to the other, offering samples of desserts to the little kids.

She bends, tilting her head as she reaches for a pastry in the cabinet. My gaze lingers over her . . . along her lovely neck and down the length of her delectable body until my eyes land on her stomach. It’s protruding and beautiful, and while she complains that she may never again have the flat and toned tummy of a dancer, I know she doesn’t truly care.